Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Living the Life ❯ Troubles ( Chapter 11 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Smortz
After securing the dam and making it into the safe haven. Quinn must learn to deal with something far worse then zombies. Boys.

Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Supernatural / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.20.2009 | Updated On: 10.20.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 99 | Status: Work In Progress

Disclaimer: This story belongs to Smortz. Characters and plot created by me as well
 
 
Chapter 11
Quinn had been walking through the halls, desperately trying to locate those strangers. Her radio was filled with orders, each telling a different squad what to do. One had been in charge of cleaning the bodies, another in charge of changing the offices into area for people to reside in. They'd found emergency cots and food in a storage closet, not enough but it had been something.
 
Her anger and irritation were growing though. She slung the rifle over her shoulder pushing open the office door, almost hitting a girl in the head. “Who came in the damn bus!?”
 
No one replied, instead they gave her confused, worried expressions, staring at her as if she'd been on psychotic meds for her whole life.
 
“No? None of you?” Quinn asked. There was no response and she closed the door loudly and pushed open the office door across from the one she'd just confused.
 
“Who came in the bus?!” She asked loudly, her voice almost a yell.
 
“You okay, Barbie?” J asked. His eyebrow rose as he handing a sleeping bag to an elderly man.
 
“The bus, I need to find whoever came in the bus,” she grumbled before the door behind her opened.
 
A stranger poked his head through, long black hair trailed over his shoulder, a hideous curved barbell sticking between his nostrils as he cracked a grin. “What do you want with my bus, Barbie?” He asked his mouth smoking and she realized there was a cigarette in the hand she couldn't see.
 
“It's Quinn,” she corrected through the side of her mouth as she closed the door, isolating them in the hall.
 
“What do you need?” He asked as he brought the smoke to his lips to take another killer drag.
 
“Questions,” she replied, “How many of you are there?”
 
The guy chuckled as he began walking down the hall. He wore ridiculous fake leather pants, a tight black shirt and she felt the need to caw. “Six of us,” he replied as she followed.
 
He opened the door to a smaller sub-office where she counted six. The room smelled like weed as they passed the joint around. She couldn't believe how stupid people were. “Put that out,” she ordered.
 
The man pouted, staring from her to the joint, then back at her again. “Why? Its just a little fun,” he asked.

“Yes well that smokes going to drag others down, not everyone's stupid,” she turned her approach to threatening, “put it out or you guys can hop back on that bus and find somewhere else to go.”
 
That seemed to do the trick as Carlos slid in behind her. “Where did you guys come from?” He asked.

Quinn shot him a sideways smile as the one who'd she'd met first answered, “We're a band, we were touring this fine city establishment when those things started chasing us, so we did a bunch a circles until we heard those shots, figured we could glue ourselves to you.”
 
Quinn sighed, “How far were they chasing you?”
 
“About the last quarter of a mile,” one slurred tossing his brown hair over his shoulder and scratching his goatee.
 
“Are any of you hurt?” Carlos asked and Quinn snorted. “Like they'd tell us, we'll just keep watch,” she murmured and he forced a nod as she turned to slip out of the room.
 
“Hey Barbie, when was the last time you've gotten laid? I bet if you had some good stuff in you, you wouldn't bee so serious, how about having some fu-“
 
She'd never seen Carlos in a physical fight, but the man was thrown against the wall with Carlos's hands wound into his shirt. A fat, bloodied lip now on his face, “Say that one more time and I'll rip that stupid piece of metal out of your nose.”
 
Quinn chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, “Carlos, he's not worth it, he kind of reminds me of Ryan.”
 
Carlos looked at her in confusion before she took out her gun to check the amount of bullets she had in it. When he didn't make a move to leave she cleared her throat, “Let's go practice shooting.”
 
Carlos sighed, letting the guy fall from the wall as she walked out of the room. “What's up with the Ryan comment?”
 
“Ryan use to always be stoned, and he would always say crap like that to random women then laugh at their reactions, that's why I didn't say anything,” she explained.
Carlos nodded at her, “He does seem to change. You haven't told me about this Mike though…”
 
Quinn snorted at the mere thought of him. “Mike? He's… I wouldn't call him a friend… an acquaintance?”
 
Carlos rolled his eyes at her, “Am I an acquaintance?” He asked, holding the door open for her as she slid into the break room.
 
“You're a close friend,” she said almost instantly. Carlos and Quinn had been raised together. His father had been Barb's commander, and while he was in Iraq, entrusted Carlos to her after his wife died.
 
“Close friend?” Carlos repeated, pulling apart a Doritos bag. “That all?”
 
Quinn blinked at him, cocking an eyebrow, “`that all'?” She repeated as she leaned over the table to grab a soda from the cooler against the wall.
 
She found a body trapping her from getting up. “I'm hoping after this whole apocalypse thing we could be even closer,” he breathed into her ear, his hands on her hips to keep her from moving.
 
Quinn hated these things. “C-Carlos,” she began weakly not knowing what to do, “I'm really bad at these things, I kind of hate them to be exact…”
 
“Why? Did someone break your heart? Quinn, I'll fix it for you,” he murmured and she felt his fingers toy with the hem of the tank.
 
“That's not it,” she got it as he nipped the tip of her ear, biting the barbell that was through it in two different places.
 
The door shut rather loudly, and Quinn's neck shot out to give whoever a look of vulnerability. Carlos didn't move an inch. Her eyes widened at Mike, leaning against the door frame with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips.
 
For a moment she wondered if she'd ever be free of that smell again. The fierce look in his eyes gave her hope he'd say something like `Barb needs you' or give her an excuse to leave this awkward situation.
 
“She doesn't like being pinned against table,” he slurred instead before waggling his eyebrows, “I've tried.”
 
If only she could reach her gun the world would be one Mike short. Instead she had to deal with the air force solider above and behind her. “C-Carlos-”
 
“What does he mean by that? You said he was only an acquaintance.” He asked emotionlessly, his arms tensing from her struggle, keeping her against the edge of the plastic table.
 
“He's just being an ass let me go-.”
 
“Did he do this,” Carlos's fingers roughly grabbed her breasts and she hated the way her eyes closed and her lips parted. How disgusting she felt that her body simply betrayed her, “to you?”
 
“Get off me,” she growled out trying to reach the gun in her holster.
 
“I did more than that, Mr. Boy Scout,” Mike warned, “let go of her, I may not be able shoot a rifle, but I'm not so bad with these.”
 
He pulled his other hand from behind pointed the handgun at Carlos. Carlos's hand left her breast and chuckled as he scratched the bag of his head and grabbed the bag of Doritos he'd opened in the first place.
 
“No need for tha-” Carlos's sentence was cut short as Quinn shoved her fist as hard as she could across his jaw.
 
“Don't ever touch me again,” she warned out between clenched teeth, “and I apologize ahead of time if I accidentally shoot you.”
 
Carlos's chuckle echoed through her as he rubbed his swelling jaw. He didn't say anything, he only laughed towards the door, leaving without saying a word.
 
“H-How could you say that?” She asked glaring at Mike as she opened her can of soda.
 
“Where in that fucked up head of yours, did those words seem okay?” She added as she drank the first gulp, loving the burn down her throat and tears it brought to her eyes.
 
“That's the last thing guys like him want to hear,” Mike muttered easily as he walked over, putting the cigarette out in the sink before his fingers landed on her shoulder. Quinn tried to shake them off but he held them tighter. “I know Ryan and I were what fucked you up when it came to the whole boy, girl, thing but you haven't given me a chance to fix it.”
 
Quinn turned in confusion to ask him what he meant, but he was gone, leaving her in her own world.
 
Snarling, she threw the can against the wall, the liquid exploding as she walking up the stairs. “Is Peter on the roof?” She asked quietly to Hunter. He gave a nod and she pushed through the final stairs.
 
The helicopter and jet made it crowded, but she spotted the man she was looking for. Peter was behind a rifle, looking through the scope at different places.
 
She sat her rifle next to his, “Good shooting?” She asked quietly.
 
“Nah,” he murmured, “Barb doesn't want me wasting my ammo until we know what we're doing.”
 
Quinn pouted as she laid her head on her back, “My dad hasn't tried to call me, not once.”
 
“Well, maybe zombies haven't learned how to use cell phones,” Peter said without so much as batting an eyelash. She let a wry laugh escape her, a dry smile placed on her lips. “It's like we're strangers you know, even in this zombified world he doesn't care,” she whispered.
 
Peter's laugh sent a vibration into her. “You've always been my daughter Quinn,” he tossed over his shoulder.
 
“Number one dad, Petey,” she replied with a grin before sighing. His laughter echoed causing multiple zombies to screech with joy of prey in sight.
 
“If you're having trouble Quinn, you can always talk to me, Barb and I- well maybe not Barb, but I'll listen, may not listen well but it'll get it off your back,” Peter murmured as he disabled the rifle.
 
“There's to much to tell,” she began, “did you know Carlos is a pervert?”
 
“We've always known that, remember that one time you started going to that prep school and he almost tore your skirt off?” Peter asked. “Over seas, I heard he was a real lady's man.”
 
Quinn barely contained the snort that threatened to come out. “You know, I haven't seen you and Ryan together for a while, maybe not even the whole time you've been here,” Peter said suddenly, changing the subject.
 
Quinn sneered, “I hate him.” The whisper was forced out, but she couldn't help but feel the anger. “He's not the Ryan I grew up with.”
 
Peter rolled over, forcing her to sit up, giving her an incredulous expression. “What's this? What's happened?” He asked.
 
“He-We actually, before this, haven't had a long conversation for three years or hung out a whole day or gone out to a movie,” she forced out, “he got new friends, ones wh-who left him when all this happened so I picked him up.”
 
“You guys grew apart?” Peter looked clueless and she chuckled.
 
“He got new friends and started pushing me away,” she scoffed, “I became daddy's little girl. That made me so mad whenever he called me that. My dad's always loved him more, he was more of a son than I was a daughter and he threw it into my face, I hate him.”
 
Peter sighed, pulling his radio from off his belt and leaving it to hover in front of her house, “Barb, permission to engage shooting against threatening zombies. Over.”
 
“What do you mean threatening?” She asked.
 
“Well, they're communicating, so I say we shoot them all so they won't have too,” Peter added.
 
“Pet-.”
 
“Barb, if Quinn and I don't shoot something we're going to die,” he gritted out.
 
“Permission to shoot.” The radio line clicked as she turned hers off and Peter and Quinn grinned at each other.
 
“Thanks, dad,” she said as she adjusted her scope, aimed and waited for Peter to get ready. Pulling back the trigger she felt her problems lessen.
 
Her radio ignited then, both hers and Peter's going off. A very amused Barb rang in, “On second thought, its time to go shopping. We leave tomorrow morning.”