When The Man Comes Around- In The Mouth Of Madness

Disclaimer: Own nothing.

A/N: Saying thanks feels inadequate for how much I really appreciate every ones support. Sorry for the huge delay. There was originally more to this chapter but I am adding it to the next one, so I could update for Halloween :) Thanks to everyone who continues to read this mess.

"Every species can smell it's own extinction. The last ones left won't have a pretty time with it.

In ten years, maybe less, the human race will just be a bedtime story for their children.

A myth nothing more." John Trent- In The Mouth of Madness

The Caravan

Dave climbs back into the car and takes his seat behind Kurt. The tension in the air begins to suffocate him. He can feel eyes watching him carefully. He knows that He's one second away from going bat shit insane. The eyes that dart quickly to him and away confirm his suspicions that they know it too.

Burt opens his mouth to speak, but blinks twice then snaps his jaw shut. His question unspoken swirls in the stale, heated air of the car.

Dave watches him turn back around and knows with out being asked that Burt wants to know what the note says- that they all want to know, but it's private. It's his and right now he needs to hold onto the little bit of himself that he has left.

Burt lifts his ball cap and runs a hand over his balding head. He's been watching the Karofsky kid all day. Especially since my son seems to be foolish enough to hang around him- still don't get that. He's worried that Dave might be a loose cannon. He hasn't done anything to show that he is, but Burt sees the cracks forming on Dave's surface. That's what makes him stay silent. This once hulking Bully is somehow fragile and he doesn't want to be the one to shatter him- at least not anymore. Glancing at Kurt he wants to know the truth, the history and what the hell is really going on between them. He didn't become a dad yesterday and he's known for awhile, even before all this madness, that Kurt is hiding something. Now with their lives on the line he expects the truth.

Dave's hand is burning, itching to pull the piece of paper out of his pocket. To read what little connection he has left of his old life. To feel a little closer to his best friend and not so lost. Every second they're apart he wonders if he'll get another chance to see him again. Worried that one or both of them will die. Sighing he hangs his head and runs his hands over his eyes. So close, but so far apart. Dammit Zee just stay in one God damn place long enough for me to catch up. To say he is devastated would be a lie. His despair is greater than that. It would be calling the ocean a pond. He's not sure there is even a word to express the anguish that is flowing with-in him.

Hunched forward he leans his forehead against the back of Kurt's head rest. His nostrils flare as he catches a whiff of Kurt's scent- a faint mixture of sweat, expensive cologne and fear. Lifting his head he stares out at the blackness that passes for night and realizes he can smell more than just Kurt, his senses heightened by adrenaline, he smells his own fear mixing with the others. It's potent and reeks of death. It burns his nostrils and waters his eyes. The stench reminds him that he's not alone and whether he wants it or not he has feelings for a few of them. Which means I still have more than my mind left to lose. It makes him ache to see Azimio even more, to hear that booming laugh and his off color jokes.

Even if I care doesn't mean the rest give a rat's ass what happens to me- maybe Leroy and Rachel, I'm sure soon enough she'll flip back to her old self and remember what an ass-hat I am and that bond will be killed. Leroy will follow his daughter. I'm sure someone will fill him in on who I really am/was- Hell I'm surprised Burt didn't already help me with that. Kurt, well he's been confusing as hell. I don't even know. Hell he could have got rid of my ass multiple times in the last 24 hours. Sighing he closes his eyes, his head begins to pound with a dull ache. I just need to find the one person I know is my friend, then maybe I'll feel grounded, sane again, ….maybe.

He glances back at the cars following and the group he's currently with. In the few strobe like flashes of light that enter the car from the passing poles his tired mind plays tricks on him. In the brief transitions he can almost swear the faces of the others are none other than the man himself- Death grinning ghoulishly back at him. Layers of their skin are pulled away as shiny bones with empty sockets glare at him. Their razor sharp jaws move up and down in haunting laughter. Covering his ears he stifles a groan and turns quickly away from those mocking faces, placing his forehead on the cold glass of the window. Face smashed and numbing fast, he wonders if he really is losing his mind. If this is all some figment of his imagination, that he'll wake up hung over from a major dose of Thorazine with his arms strapped tight in a brand new white jacket. It's just sleep deprivation, that's all. He tries to shut his eyes and they refuse. The dark farm fields pass by in a blur until his disobeying eyes are drawn to an odd movement. He tries again, but his lids wont budge and he's forced to watch what's left of a partially eaten cow- hang squirming in the barb wire fence. The lead weight of dread sinks lower in his gut and he knows insanity is just wishful thinking on his part.

Skirting town the line of cars sticks to the back roads where houses are scarce. Kurt's driving with his dad riding shotgun and they currently lead the pack of cars. Houses fly by in the darkness, but he hasn't found one to stop at. No one questions him why. They all feel the same unease. The houses are either; too close to another, too dark, doors hanging open, abandoned cars blocking the drive, broken windows, and in three cases- on fire, so he keeps driving.

They're slightly west of Angola when Kurt spots a house far back from the road. It's too dark to tell if anything else is near by, but the way the house sits he doubts it. Something about it pulls at him. He glances at his dad who nods his approval and Kurt whips the Navigator into the curved driveway.

The sound of gravel under the tires causes Dave to peel his face off the window and lean forward. He notices with relief that there is no barn, just a small garage. Kurt pulls the car up close to the house. Turning at the last moment he positions the Navigator so it faces the road. The others line up following his lead. Kurt flexes his hands once on the steering wheel before he climbs out. Scared, his eyes dart as they search the night.

It's dark and the clouds keep the moon hidden, but the few seconds of light that break through illuminate the structure and Dave wants to climb back into the car and keep going. This place looks like the house from every horror movie I've ever seen. Shit. The house is old. Faded gray wood slats cover two stories and it's shutters hang off their hinges swaying with the breeze. All the windows seem to be intact and the door shut tight. Bonus there,.. I guess. Just as the thought crosses his mind the freezing wind picks up whistling through the bare trees. Okay, if no one else thought that sounded fuckin' creepy, I don't know what to say. Maybe if I volunteer to siphon enough gas for the rest of the trip, they'll let me sleep in the car with the heater on? A quick look at the drawn faces surrounding him, he knows the others heard it too.

Leroy steps up beside Dave. "Well who wants to scope it out with me? We need to make sure we'll have heat."

Dave looks at Leroy. The man he met last night is there, the sorrow and the fear that graced his face before still there, but Leroy has changed. He's hardened. Dave doesn't know what happened to him when they were separated earlier and he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know, but he can feel the pain and...anger rolling off Leroy. It's so strong that it's cutting a path through Dave's own muddied emotions.

Dave nods that he will. Kurt, Sam and Finn round out the group while Burt, Beiste, Sue and Puck stay behind to guard over the rest.

Dave moves away from Leroy, vowing to himself to keep an eye on Rachel's father, but for now he needs to get some space between him and the pain radiating out from the man. He steps up beside Kurt and Dave can't keep his dismay about their sanctuary hidden any longer.

He leans close to Kurt's ear his voice low, "Nice choice Fancy. I always wanted to stay at the house from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

The warm breath on Kurt's ear send a flash of heat down his spine and he blushes and wishes the feeling away. He waits a beat before responding hoping his voice won't betray his him like his body.

The worn wood porch gives a groan under their combined weight and Kurt hisses under his breath, "Well sorry to disappoint you David, but last I checked we are not in Texas... It is however the house from Psycho." He lets out a ghost of nervous laughter.

"Nice try, but there's no hotel." Dave tries to use the light banter to calm his nerves, but it fails miserly as the wind howls again.

Kurt flashes a grin, "They tore it down years ago."

Dave bumps his good shoulder against Kurt's and they stand peering in one of the darkened windows.

"Nicely played."

"Hey, what are you two whispering about?" Finn ask as he steps up behind them. Part curiosity, part concern for his brothers new choice of companion showing on his face. He had bonded some with Karofsky during the championship game, but he still doesn't trust him where Kurt is concerned.

"Just this haunted house your brother picked."

Grinning, Finn claps Kurt on the shoulder. "Hey, ghosts got to be better than Zombies right?" Then he looks horrified at his own thought. "You don't think it's really haunted do you?"

Dave smirks ready to reply that he's pretty sure Caspers a cartoon and not real, but then again Zombies weren't supposed to be real either. The reply dies on his tongue and he swallows hard. A frigid breeze trails across the back of his neck and it feels like cold,dead fingers.

Santana and Brittany

The bloodied head of her father drips on the tile floor. Santana stares, her eyes follow each drop as it splatters on the expensive marble flooring. Her father's mouth begins to move up and down his jaws snapping. Nurse Floozy growls and Santana shakes her head coming out of her daze. The eyes of her dead father pop open. His lids flickering over black orbs. Holding the broom out in front of her, Santana looses the battle with her stomach that she has fought all night. Bile spills from her lips drowning out the sound of the blood dripping.

The scent of the vomit seems to invigorate the monsters before her and Nurse Floozy charges.

She runs full blast at the girls. Santana pushes the handle of the broom out doing her best to keep the monster at length. The dead woman slams into the broom and there's a loud crack as the wood handle snaps in two. Santana and Brit scramble around the center island while the creature swipes at them flinging the head of Dr Lopez into the wall with a wet thud.

They continue to circle each other until the zombiefied bitch leaps with a grunt across the counter. Santana screams at the sudden movement and shoves the rest of the broom handle towards the dead woman. With the monsters momentum aiding the jab it goes deep. Straight through her left eye and into her brain. A few twitches followed by a groan and she's done. Black tinged goo runs down the broomstick causing Santana to gag again. Her stomach empty, she dry heaves. Hunched over on the floor hand to her middle she hears Britt moan out. It distracts her from her retching and with a renewed urgency Santana wipes her face on the underside of her shirt and rushes to Brittany's side.

"Brittany it's going to be okay. Let's get you to the couch and I'll find something to take care of the pain. Then maybe we can wrap your arm up."

Pale, Brittany just nods. The pain in her arm and exhaustion causing her to go limp. Leaning heavily on Santana she moves to the darkened living room.

Santana watches her slump down into the cushions. Straightening up she warily eyes the room. Her ears open she tries to identify any unusual sounds. She hears nothing but the splatter of the still dripping black goo and her fathers teeth chattering. Squaring her shoulders she takes one last look at Britt and goes back to the kitchen. Averting her eyes from the gore she opens the side entrance to the garage.

Cautiously peeking her head in she finds it empty. Looking at the partially open overhead door she wants to close it the rest of the way, but fears the sound of it shutting will attract more zombies. Quietly she moves to the small tool bench and locates a flash light. Feet shuffle behind her and she whips around.

She sees two sets of legs from the knees down outside the half open door. She knows by their groans that they are dead. Shit. Turning back to the tool bench she palms a pipe wrench. Feeling the heavy weight in her hand she slowly backs out of the garage and into the kitchen.

Quickly she flips the kitchen light off and heads back to the living room. She hates to move Brittany, but she doesn't want her out of sight. "Britt come on. We need to be super quiet, but we have to go upstairs."

Brittany stands swaying a little before she rights herself. Santana's left arm snakes around her waist and they tackle the staircase. She leads Brittany to her room or what used to be her room. Grabbing the dusty comforter off the day bed she covers the window before she flips on the small lamp beside the bed. Brittany lays on the bed her injured arm limp at her side.

"Britt, I'm going just across the hall. I'll be right back."

Brittany can only nod. The pain has seeped past her mental block and invaded her whole body. Her arm is on fire and her body aches from the fall. She watches as Santana leaves the room and tears fall from her eyes. She needs the pain to go away. She needs someone to fix her. The black eyes of Doctor Lopez flash in her mind. What if no one is left to fix me?

Tina and Azimio

Tina bounced back from her terror once they left the dank sewers. Crumpled atlas on her lap and a flashlight between her teeth she scans for the best route. The two small boys are quiet in the back and occasionally she finds herself looking behind her to make sure they are really there. She wonders how long the boys were in the sewers and how they could have survived. At first it gives her hope- hope that the rest of her friends and family might be somewhere out there and alive, but just like before images of her town burning and her mutilated mother trying to attack her run through her mind. The hope dies.

Azimio drives on any clear road he can find headed south west. He glances at Tina studying the atlas her black tresses surround her face and he can't see her expression. He has to take a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts. His mind wants to go a mile a minute running on what if's. Most of the time he can keep the panic at bay. He still has a plan, a goal, a hope. His parents are somewhere out there, he can feel it. His best friend will be coming after him, he knows it. The Karofsky's are tough. If anyone would know about Zombie's and how to survive, it would be his boy Dave. Beyond finding his parents and reuniting with his friend, his mind is empty on ideas and that is where the panic is hiding on the edges always trying to get a foothold.

He glances once again at Tina and in the rear view mirror he sees the two boys Jesus what the hell am I gonna do? He shakes his head trying to dislodge the thoughts that are setting up on the starting line ready to race through his mind, but he can't. There's a false start and they all jump the gun. Okay I find my parent's then what? We sure as hell can't go back to Lima and what about baby girl? What am I supposed to do there? The boys? Hell I'm just a dumb ass kid myself. What if I don't find my mom and dad? How am I supposed to care for those two? I've never even had a steady girlfriend, and overnight I've become a family man.

He grips the steering wheel and blows out a deep breath. Tina reaches out and places a hand on his arm. Sliding one hand off the wheel he entwines their fingers and she gives his hand a squeeze.

"I think we should just keep going in the direction your headed and watch for signs. We can look on the map and see exactly where we are then." Her voice is like a balm on his frayed nerves and he feels himself calming down.

His voice is steady as he speaks, "That's the best way. We won't know which roads are blocked until we get on them."

She nods.

In the silence of the car Azimio thinks about the warm hand he's holding. The pain he has caused this soft spoken girl in the past. The awful things he's said to and about her. He didn't even know her then, but because she was lower on the social pecking order he dished out all the crud he could. Now that same girl has become his center. He would still be rocking back and forth on his bed, or more likely dead, if she hadn't landed on his roof. Without someone else to face this nightmare with he might have given up.

"Tina,... I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry... I'm sorry for how I treated you in the past. For picking on you and the other Gleeks."

Tina tenses, the mention of the glee club- her friends, sends a pain deep into her chest. "That's behind us. I don't want to talk about it."

"I've got to get it out, like confession... I don't know what the hell is wrong with me that I thought it was okay to do those things to you and the others. I wasn't brought up that way and if my dad ever finds out he will beat my ass." Sighing he wipes his eyes, keeping his head straight so she can't see the wetness there. "That guy... that was not who I wanted to be. I never woke up and said, Hey I want to be an asshole when I grow up." He sighs. " But that's who I became." Azimio sucks in a shaky breath, "I'm just so sorry Tina, and I'm sorry that I'm not going to be able to make it right. Most of the kids that I made everyday a living hell for,... are dead. It's never going to be alright. I won't be able to apologize to them and ask for their forgiveness. Their gone forever. I'm going to have to live with the burden of my actions hanging on my shoulders for the rest of my life, even if it's a short one."

Tina squeezes his hand. There is nothing she can say to make him feel better and she knows it. She has her own regrets. Her own eyes leak. The last day she had with Mike they had spent most of it arguing, never realizing how precious little time they had left. If she had known, she would have spent all of it loving him. Her relationship with her parents had been no better. She spent as little time as possible with them in the last few months with their constant bickering. The only time she spoke to them was when she needed something. She can't even remember when she had told her mother she loved her last. To her it was just a given that she loved them and to her they would always be there. Now she wished more than anything to just be able to hug her dad and tell her mom goodnight. Those moments are gone, like so many others and the hulk of a boy turned man overnight breaking beside her as they drive, unravels her. She leans her head over resting it on his shoulder their hands still gripped tight.

His breath catches again and her face crumbles.

Tina hears the soft snores coming from the back seat and pulls her hair back behind her ear. No longer hiding the tears she lets them freely fall. If the boys were awake she would hide them not wanting to frighten them anymore than need be, but for now it's alright and the two teenagers openly share their desperation and heartache.

Santana and Brittany

Santana hears the moans of the dead outside even though they are muted. Chills race down her spine in the dark hallway. She edges closer to her father's bedroom, hoping beyond hope that the dead skank downstairs still has a stash of pills somewhere. Santana had seen them before, even stole a few. They made her head feel weird, but dulled the pain. Not physical pain, but emotional. When Britt started seeing Artie it hurt, but when Britt fell in love with the four eyed nerd it was devastating. Santana had lost it for a little while. Her struggle to come to terms with her own sexuality and knowing that her mother will not except her, paired with the rejection of her father, Puck and Finn she found herself taking too many at once. No one besides her knew how close she came to doing real damage to herself, not even the one person who knows her best, Brittany.

That memory of waking up on A cold tile floor in her own vomit is still fresh. The worst was realizing how long she had been there and that no one had even bothered to check and see if she was okay. They didn't even notice she was missing for hours. She had cleaned herself up and walked down stairs to find an empty house. Her father had went golfing and Bekka was shopping.

She had almost killed herself and no one cared. Britt would have if she had told her, but Santana knew it wouldn't be fair. She wouldn't burden Britt with that kind of darkness.

Now pushing the door open her hands shake at the memory. The master suite is dark, except for a small crack of light seeping under the bathroom door. That's where she needs to go. The bitch always keeps the pills behind her stack of towels in the cabinet. She starts towards the door and stops, her feet just at the edge of the light shining on the blue carpet. Something feels off. Understatement of the century, but why's the door shut and the light on? Her face scrunches in fear and confusion. She doesn't hear anything, but her Spidey sense is ringing loud and clear.

Hefting the pipe wrench higher she moves forward determined to get what Britt needs. One step closer and she almost gives herself away. A shadow passes behind the door blocking out the light briefly. Jumping back she covers her mouth to stifle a scream and backs away from the door.

Terrified she runs back to her old room and just outside the door she hears Brittany crying in pain. She stops before Britt can see her. Turning around she takes a deep breath and prepares to do battle. Wrench held high she marches back to her father's room. Once again she pushes open the door and moves forward to the bathroom, but it's too late. Panic hammers her heart. The door is hanging open. A lamp crashes to her left and she screams, beginning to back away quickly as something moves under the bed shaking the frame.

The Caravan

Leroy takes the lead with Dave close behind. The door handle is old and one quick hit from the butt of the shotgun and they are in. Entering the foray Dave holds his breath expecting something straight out of resident evil to come charging, or a guy dressed in his dead mothers clothes. Nothing comes running and they move a little father in. An old adamantine mantle clock starts chiming and Dave's pretty sure he can hear the collective squeezing of every ones sphincters around him.

"Man I almost crapped my pants." Finn laughs nervously.

"Thanks for the info Finn." Kurt shakes his head.

Still staying close the group begins to fan out. On the right there is a stair case leading up and behind it the door to the basement.

Leroy nods to the door, "A couple of us should stay here and watch the basement door and the stairs until we can search the first floor."

Sam and Finn volunteer. Dave moves forward anxious to get this over with. Walking past the living room they enter the kitchen. The appliances seem to be relics, but further inspection shows they are running. The freezer is full and the fridge looks freshly stocked. His hip bumps the kitchen table and Dave's unease grows. Somebody or something is bound to be around. The table is set for two and who ever lives here had their dinner interrupted. Reaching down he plucks one of the bread rolls. It's still soft- not stale.

Leroy watches Dave squeeze the roll in his hands. Their eyes meet and Dave nods. Leroy checks the shotgun and raises it to his shoulder. Dave moves so Kurt is positioned between him and Leroy while His eyes scan every dark corner for movement.

Santana

The bed is solid oak, weighing a ton. The fact that it's currently shaking violently lets Santana know how much trouble she's in. The heavy wrench in her palm feels like a butter knife. Her back hits the wall and she doesn't even remember moving. The tan bed skirt ruffles and a foot sticks out followed by a leg. There is something oddly familiar about the shoe- it's a golf shoe. A custom made golf shoe belonging to her dad. The rest of the body swings out then back under the bed, like someone flinging a rag doll around. Then it hit's her. Her stomach clenches violently. They are eating ….. Whatever is under the bed is eating what's left of her father.

Blaine and Becky

Blaine grabs Becky's hand pulling her off the bed and into a sprint. He wants to beat the Dead advancing from the rear of the house to the front. The two bullets nestled deep in his front right pocket seem to brand his skin through the denim as he runs. He pauses briefly looking out the front window before they head out. There are three that he can see, but they are half a house down. Knowing there is no time to spare he yanks open the door as the windows in the back of the house crash in behind them.

"Becky fast, move fast." His voice is hoarse with fear as he runs behind her.

He helps her climb into the big truck and begins to heave himself in when he feels a vise clamp onto his ankle, dragging him down he grabs hold of the steering wheel but it's no use. He comes down hard, his head bouncing off the cement. Warm wetness flows through his curls and he struggles to get free. The creature is trying to drag him under the truck. Blaine's eyes catch three sets of feet moving fast towards him. He knows if he slips under the truck he'll be ripped apart. His fingers search for the gun on the ground beside him and come up empty. It's on the seat. I sat it down to climb up... I'm dead. Holding on to the side edge of the driveway he begins to loose his grasp and his head swims. Maybe I'll blackout before I get ripped apart.

He screams, "Becky go, get out of here."

He lets out a scream, his nails break and his fingers shred as they scrape the concrete. It's dark and he's under the truck. I'm dead.

The Caravan

Leroy begins to speak, to say it might be wise to double back and alert the others, but then something crashes in the pantry freezing the words on his tongue. Moving like one unit the three men flank the door.

Dave inches around Kurt, laying his hand on the door he waits for Leroy's nod to open. His body shakes with nervous tension rattling the loose knob. Taking a deep breath he tries to steady himself, but he can't. It's too much, all of it. This constant feeling of fear. Not once in the twenty four hours has he felt truly safe.

Kurt reaches forward placing his hand over Dave's. The rattling stops and Dave sucks in a breath, leaning into Kurt so slightly most would never notice, but Leroy watching with a keen eye sees Dave's unconscious shift and the effect it has on him. Leroy nods and together the boys pull back the door.

Blaine and Becky

The pressure on his legs is growing. Like a dog with a bone it doesn't care to share, the half faced creature swings him around, bouncing his already bleeding head off one of the massive truck tires. His eyes blur then focus and he sucks in a painful breath. He had expected to see the bloody mess hovering above him ready to rip out his guts, but the flash of light and loud pop followed by white hot burning in his arm, take him by surprise.

"Sorry Blaine."

"What?" Becky? Under the truck with a zombie getting ready to rip his face off, Blaine does not think anything else can scare him more, except a gun wielding Becky. His eyes close, waiting for the next and hopefully final burst of pain. The worst part is not knowing where it will be coming from. My flesh ripped from my body while I breath, or another white hot poker of a bullet soaring through my body. I'll take the last one , preferably through my skull please.

Another flash of light followed by a deafening pop, and Blaine is now snuggling with the twice dead. As the dead weight falls on him, his thumb sinks deep into its empty left socket. It feels like the guts of a pumpkin. Shrieking he rolls out from under the zombie, grunting in pain as his wounded arm hits the cold ground. Kicking with his feet, he shuffles out from under the truck simultaneously wiping his hands on his jeans.

Becky helps him to his feet.

With one glance he knows the truck will be swamped in seconds. One animated corpse missing both of its arms and one of it's feet, has already inch-wormed it's way up into the truck. Spreading the bench seat with gore. He grabs the gun from Becky sliding it into the back of his jeans once more. Hand in hand they run, blood flowing freely down Blaine's left arm, neither him nor Becky notice as it coats their joined hands.

Brittany

Santana's scream rips Brittany off the bed. She stumbles as she propels herself down the hallway. Her heart pounding in her ears and light headed from pain she gropes the wall with her good hand. Her fear for Santana pulls her onward, body full of agony she's on auto pilot- only focusing on getting to Santana. Rounding the corner she spots the dark headed Cheerio plastered against the wall her facial features frozen is a mixture of disgust, fear and sadness. Britt grabs Santana's arm, causing her to scream and pull back the wrench. She swings just barely missing Brittany.

"Oh my God Britt I'm sorry."

Brittany doesn't answer. She's turned away from Santana and staring at the bed- the one that has stopped shaking.

Azimio and Tina

Tina is asleep and leaning heavily on Azimio. He tries his best not to disturb her, taking the turns slow and minimizing his own movements, but all of it's in vain as the low gas light flickers to life followed by it's too cheerful chime.

Rubbing her face she stretches as she wakes. She glances at Azimio- shyness in her eyes after their shared cry fest. Then as if she thought they were a dream she snaps around fast to check on the still sleeping boys. Settling back down she looks forward, A lump forming in her throat. She doesn't want to stop. In the silent warmth of the car as it moves through the darkness she feels safe. Stopping jeopardizes that."How much gas do we have left?"

"Less than a quarter tank. We'll need to stop soon."

Ringing her hands at Azimio's answer she grabs the map, "Do you know what county we're in?"

"No."

" You didn't see any signs?"

Azimio shakes his head no. "The last couple were knocked over and I can't remember the name of the last one I did see." What he doesn't tell her is that more than once his own eyelids had drifted shut.

Tina goes back to looking at the map, "We'll see something soon, then I can find our location and see what's close."

Then as if summoned by her words, a bright neon sign flickers on the horizon.

Azimio squints, "Cecile's? I hope they got working pumps, place looks old." He can feel Tina tense as they get closer to the building.

"Keep going don't stop."

"What? Why? Do you see some of those freaks?"

"Freaks yes, but not the living dead . Don't stop Azimio."

He shakes his head, "But what if they have news, or can help us?"

" We don't want their kind of help." She shivers. She always knew there were horrible people in the world, but in some part of her teenage mind she was disconnected from it. That kind of violence was reserved for the news reports. Now passing the tattooed men with their combat boots and spiked hair it feels terrifying and surreal at the same time.

She hunkers down in her seat trying to hide from the onlookers beside the station. She can feel their glares as the car rolls past. Their eyes full of hate and menace.

Azimio finally sees what Tina is worried about, the freshly painted swastika on the block cement wall is still dripping and he can see two of the men holding paint cans.

His hands grip the steering wheel as he speeds past. Looking at the gauge he remembers the need for fuel and slows down. His heart begins to beating rapidly as he sees headlights coming up fast behind them. Fuck. A history channel buff, he's watched enough episodes of Gangland to know- We're in deep shit.

Santana and Brittany

Santana's eyes follow Brittany's to the bed. Both girls jump as the bed rises off the ground with a growl. That terrifying sound is all they need to start their feet running. Britt follows Santana to the garage. Shutting the door behind them, Santana reaches into the key cabinet and grabs the spare for Bekka's Mini cooper. They can hear the roaring coming from the upstairs as something stomps down the hallway. Her hands are shaking so bad, Britt takes the key from her and unlocks the door.

Climbing into the passenger seat, she slumps down as Santana fires up the engine. We've only just begun by the Carpenters blares out of the custom sound system. "Really Bekka? You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Instantly more sets of legs appear behind the half open door and Brittany begins to worry about the size of the car compared to the hordes of zombies. Thanks to her brief relationship with Artie she has seen Dawn of the Dead, she just didn't realize at the time it was a documentary. I thought they were just actors.

Santana hits the remote for the garage door while trying to turn off the custom radio that looks like it was designed by NASA.

"Britt, help me turn this damn thing off."

Some of the dead begin to crawl under the door. Santana shifts into first and guns it. Bones snap under the tires as the car bounces over bodies. It skids to the side, scraping the door frame and Santana feels a little ebb of satisfaction, that she's marring the dead bitches toy. Guilt follows close after and she shakes it off. Home wrecking, pill poppin Hoe bag had it coming."

The Caravan

A swish of movement and light has Dave jumping back and falling into Kurt.

For a brief second Kurt's arms come up and around the bigger boys waist steadying Dave, then drop quickly to his sides as if they were burned. Quiet nervous laughter barely flows out of their lips, as they watch the single light bulb sway. It's brief and short lived. One glance shows the pantry has rows of stocked shelves full of home canned goodness. It's The very dark, very narrow staircase nestled between the shelves leading up that has silenced them.

Leroy takes a deep breath and steps forward followed by Dave and Kurt. The trio winces with each step as the floor boards creak on the worn stairs. Whispering Leroy glances over his shoulder at Dave, "Maybe it's a good thing. I mean if it was one of those things wouldn't the sound draw it to us, not away from us?"

Dave nods, "Yeah, I don't think they have the intelligence to hide then ambush us."

Kurt, "Maybe it's just some crazy redneck ready to make a skin suit out of you, David."

Dave, "Great."

Leroy pauses, "Did I miss something?"

Before they can answer, something crashes to the floor only a few steps ahead of them. Kurt and Dave scream.

Blaine and Becky

Blaine is slowing down. They lost some of the Zombies by cutting through the houses, but new ones caught their scent and he's not sure how much farther he can go. His head feels heavy and swollen, while his left arm feels numb- dead. He can see his left hand holding Becky's, but he can't feel it. That's probably a blessing.

We're not going to be able to outrun them, so we need to outsmart them. Turning a sharp right, they run between two close sitting houses and head back toward the street. Blaine pulls Becky across the dark street and they dive behind a low row of hedges. Laying on the frozen ground trying to catch his breath and slow his heart rate, Blaine peeks through the bushes. His breath catches as he watches the zombies make the sharp turn and follow their path down between the houses, but then they stop. Groaning in what sounds like frustration, they spread out. Blaine lets out a breath of relief that they seem to be moving away from them, but then his heart begins to speed up again. They are sniffing the air. Moving in unison they all face forward at the same time. Blaine jumps back away from the bushes, sure that his eyes locked with theirs, or at least with the ones who still have eyes. He gets in a crouch ready to run.

Becky pulls on his jacket, "Blaine?"

"Becky, we got to move."

Becky tugs again, "Don't you hear that?"

Blaine's eyes are focused on the zombies, but his ears perk. There is something off in the distance, maybe a street or two over, coming closer by the second. Music?..

Growls drown out the faint music, and it's time to go.

"Come on Becky, it's time to exit stage left." Hand and hand they run once again, still panting and drained.

Azimio and Tina

Azimio can feel the car begin to drag, choking on fumes. "We're gonna have to make a stand."

Tina, "What?"

Azimio, "We can't outrun them with no gas. We are going to have to find a place and defend ourselves."

Tina leans foreword head hanging between her knees. Azimio can see her shaking and hear her whispering to herself. He can't blame her. He himself feels like God just went and kicked him square in the nards. It's bad enough that he's lost, scared and trying to escape the masses of flesh eating zombies that should not exist, but now to be chased down by brain cell challenged, cousin kissing, racist ass-hats has him flipping the bird to the spirit in the sky. "Fuck you God" He shouts. Shaking his head

his cheeks fill with fire and he whispers, "I'm sorry Lord, it's just that this shit is totally fucked. We could use a little help here."

The car begins to jerk and he pulls over. "Not really what I had in mind. Maybe you didn't hear that apology."

The head lights in the rear view mirror are brighter now, the truck is gaining fast. Azimio begins to pray in earnest, when the glare of the approaching headlights bounces off something metallic and to the side of the Charger. A shed or shack, he can't tell from where he sits, but it's shelter.

"Tina, come on girl move your ass."
She jumps at the command in his voice and follows his lead as he pulls the boys out of the back. One boy in each arm he runs.

Less than a minute later, the boys are nestled together awake but groggy on the dusty floor of a two room shack no bigger than a garden shed. If not for the truck beams streaming through the dirt caked windows, they would be in total darkness.

Azimio piles what little furniture he can find, a few broken spindle chairs and a moth eaten cot, in front of the door before he joins Tina on a weapons search.

He finds her in the small kitchen frantically rummaging through drawers and cabinets. There is one narrow back door. He checks the latch it's locked, but a sturdy kick will cave it in. He wedges the small table in front of it.

"I can't find anything." Tina screams panicking.

Azimio begins pulling out drawers and they crash to the floor. There are a few butter knifes and forks. The cabinets hold just a few pots and pans, and one heavy cast iron skillet. Azimio test the weight in his grip. "This will do."

Tina keeps searching, but jumps as heavy pounding starts on the sides of the shack. The boys run into the kitchen, wrapping their arms tightly around Tina. She crouches down engulfing them in her embrace.

"Little piggies, Little piggies, Little piggies let us in."

Tommy the smallest of the two boys calls out, "Not by the hair of my chinny- chin-chin."

Tina clasp a hand over his small mouth and whispers "hush."

Then the laughter starts up. It sends chills racking through Tina and the boys. The men outside sound insane.

Azimio determined to do his best stands in front of Tina and the boys holding the iron skillet. The banging starts up again and his eyes follow the pounds. They are surrounded. His eyes stop on the stove an idea forming in his mind, something he saw in one of those monster movies Dave is always making him watch- the one with the werewolves and soldiers, he grabs the pots in the cabinet and fills them with water, if the sulfur smelling, rust colored muck that is pouring from the tap can be called that. Placing them on the stove he turns on the burners and nothing happens. He bellows in rage, once again flipping the bird to the heavens, when his nose picks up the smell of gas. Matches... I saw a pack of fucking matches. Dropping to the floor in the dark room he begins searching through the scattered drawers.

"Tina help me, we need to find something to light the burners with."

The Caravan

Their combined screams echo in the small space. They hear the front door open. The concerned voices of Mr Hummel and Coach Bieste float down the hallway and up the narrow stairs bringing a small sense of relief to the trio.

A quick glance over his shoulder and Kurt is looking into his father's worried eyes.

"Jesus Kurt, I think people could hear you scream three counties over. What happened?"

Kurt, puts a finger to his lips, motioning for his father the quiet down. He points up stairs, "We're not alone."

Burt checks his rifle and creeps up the stairs behind Kurt. Beiste follows, carrying her shovel. Close together they make it to the top where they find another door. Dave reaches around Leroy to open it. Dim moonlight floods the stairs from a nearby window. A long hallway dotted with four doors, runs the length of the house. Cautiously they step into the light.

Leroy lifts his gun higher, staring down the sights. "Okay lets go see what's behind door number one."

Something that sounds like a book dropping, thuds on the ground at the end of the hall.

Leroy, clears his throat, "Okay strike that, seems like door number four is the winner."

Blaine and Becky

He's sure if he could pause and look at his feet, he would see bags of cement attached to them, they are so heavy. His lungs burn and tears stream from his eyes sending hot tracks of warmth down his face. Becky is now leading him, tugging him along as they pass over one more street and down an alley way. Every few feet, she stops and cocks her head as if listening for something. His brain is slowing down like the rest of his body. Shock, shit I'm going into shock. The thought exits his mind just as quickly as it came and the fog settles in. He can feel his body continue moving a few more feet , before he hits the road, face first.

Becky frantically rolls him over. She doesn't bother calling out his name, he's out. Instead she places her arms under his and laces her fingers across his chest. She can feel the faint rise and fall of his chest. Sighing in relief and grunting with exertion she begins to drag him across the blacktop. A snarl causes her to jump up, releasing Blaine and he crumples to the ground.

Her mouth opens and shuts, but the scream is trapped. Then her head cocks as she realizes that the music she heard earlier is close, very close and very loud.

The zombie lunges for her, and she watches as he disappears in a wash of bright light. She covers her eyes from the harsh glare. Hoping that if she's gonna die it will be quick.

"Becky, what the hell are you doing with Lady Lips man?"

Becky uncovers her eyes,"Santana?"