I do not own Glee or any of the original characters, It all belongs to RIB and Fox. Any characters you don't recognise are my own creations.
Checking the tv is pointless. She knows this even as she turns it on, but knowing it hasn't stopped her from checking three times a day for the last three weeks. The radio, Internet and phone lines haven't worked for three weeks either, she still check them just as much as the tv. It's the only thing that keeps her going, keeps them all going.
Checking the tv is pointless. She knows this even as she turns it on, but knowing it hasn't stopped her from checking three times a day for the last three weeks. The radio, Internet and phone lines haven't worked for three weeks either, she still check them just as much as the tv. It's the only thing that keeps her going, keeps them all going. Ever since this all began, she had pretended to be hopeful; for Brittany's sake. Santana wishes that she had Brittany's endless optimism, wishes she could believe that things will be okay; she doesn't. Maybe if her father had been here when it happened, rather than in Barbados with his new wife, she would be optimistic. His mere presence would install some belief in her. Her father is the strongest person Santana has ever known. If anyone could get them out of this, it would be him.
Now, she doesn't even know if he's still alive. Before the tv broadcasts had turned to fuzzy static, they had shown that the virus had spread through most of America. She has no idea if it has spread any further and, to be completely honest, she's not sure if she wants to know. She flips the light off as she leaves the living room, wondering how much longer they'll have power for. Their street is one of the last few streets to have power in the whole of Lima and she's not sure how she'll be able to handle it when they do eventually lose it. The darkness would surely only make the danger seem worse. She doesn't know why, it doesn't make a difference to those infected, but having power gives her a minuscule feeling of safety in amongst the overwhelming panic and dread.
Sighing, she glances at the boarded up windows before closing the living room door and heading into the kitchen. Dave looks up briefly and gives her a nod before going back to tinkering with an old antique radio whilst listening for any sounds from the back yard. For the last three weeks he's done this every single night, only going to bed for a few hours before dawn, and only if someone else is awake. Santana briefly lays her hand on his broad shoulder, squeezing gently before filling a glass of water and leaving the kitchen again. She finds Sam in his usual place, sitting on the bottom step with a rifle in his arms as be stares at the boarded up door. He will be there for another hour or so, until Puck gets up and takes his place.
"Goodnight, yell if you need me." Santana nods and continues walking to her bedroom, relieved that another day is almost over. She passes the guest room that the guys have been sharing, rolling her eyes as Puck's snoring seems to get louder with each passing second. She reaches her mother's bedroom and slowly opens the door, just enough to peek inside. Watching her mother's sleeping form, she breathes her nightly sigh of relief. Santana quietly closes the door again and makes her way to her bedroom, smiling softly as she enters to find Brittany still awake.
"You don't have to wait up for me every single night," she murmurs as she strips off and slides into bed behind her girlfriend. She nuzzles her neck and wraps her arm around Brittany's athletic frame. Somehow, even on the bleakest of days, smelling Brittany's sweet scent and touching her soft skin, makes it better.
"Then come to bed when I do, there's nothing more you can do once the boys start their nightly look-outs," Brittany whispers, turning around to spoon Santana. Not many people would think of Santana as the little spoon, it even surprised Santana when she discovered that she preferred it. That's how they fall asleep every night.
"I need to feel like I'm doing something," Santana whimpers, allowing her vulnerability to show through. Brittany is the only person she trusts enough to see this side of her. "I just need to."
"You are helping. More than you know."
It's almost midnight when Puck wakes up and, for a few special seconds, he is too hazy from sleep to remember wy his alarm is going off. The more alert he becomes, the more the recent events come rushing back to him. The days are slowly blending together, apart from two devastating events. He shakes his head as though attempting to throw the memories from his mind. Thinking about that will only weaken him, he can't afford any weakness right now, none of them can. The things he's had to do in these last few weeks are things he never wants to talk about. Pushing himself out of bed, he quickly throws on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top before padding downstairs, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he passes him on his way to the kitchen. Dave grumbles a greeting to him and jerks his head in the direction of the freshly made pot of coffee.
"Any action tonight?" Puck asks as he pours himself a coffee.
"No. It's been prety quiet," Dave murmurs, "we'll need to go out tomorrow; for supplies." Puck's stomach churns at the though of going out there, especially after what happened the last time he went out there. "Sam and I can handle it," Dave adds when he notices the look on Puck's face. "Plus, Santana said she wanted to come."
"Maribel will kick your ass if you let Santana go with you. She hates that we go out, nevermind Santana."
"Have you ever tried saying no to Santana?" Dave asks incredulously. "It's not a word she likes to hear.
"Good point. Maribel's still gonna kill you though," Noah mutters as he leaves the kitchen with his coffee. He takes the rifle from Sam's arms, the young blonde man mumbling an exhausted goodnight as he climbs the stairs, Puck taking his place on the bottom step. Sipping his coffee, he listens carefully for sounds from outside...just like he has done every night for the last three weeks. He doesn't like it when it's quiet, it feel like they're planning something. No. He shakes his head at that though. They are mindless monsters, they're not smart enough to do that. The worst part about it being silent is that recent memories force their way into the forefront of his mind. It is hard not to think about it, it's even harder when he does think about it.
He can still hear their screams, their terrified voices yelling his name...begging him for help. Their petrified faces float around in his head and he can still picture, uncomfortably clearly, how they looked as they began to change. The meel of their bodies as they stumbled towards him is still a smell that fills his nostrils. That haunts him. He can still feel the heavy, cold metal of the axe in his hands as he falls asleep at night. Noah remembers every little detail about that night. Every smell...feeling...every damn second of it. Every damn second of the night he was forced to kill his mother and sister.
To be continued..chapters will be posted daily until it is finished. Please review.