Time passed, the seasons changed. A year went by. Two years. He never took off the bracelet. Some of them died. Rachel died of hypothermia after falling into a river. Sam was poisoned from eating strange berries. It hurt, but not as much as Kurt’s death did. Nothing hurt quite like that.

         On a Sunday (or at least, it felt like a Sunday. They didn't know the date anymore) Blaine was bit by a Walker on patrol with Puck, but Brittany's antidote saved him.

         It felt strange to Blaine, that Brittany had the potential to save the planet, but she did not try. She was not complacent, just clueless. Quinn had mused over it once with Blaine on patrol.

         "She created an antidote and her mission ended there," Quinn reasoned. "I don't think she wanted to save anyone, I think she just wanted to prove to Santana that she could do it."

         "That's insane," Blaine said. "She could end this all right now."

         "What did it feel like?" Quinn asked suddenly. "When you were bit."

         Blaine sighed. "My body felt hot, like I had a fever. It felt like I was underwater. I could feel and see things around me, but I couldn't connect?"

         Quinn nodded.

         "It was like when you're sleeping, and someone turns on the light and you just think turn off the light. I wanted the light to turn out."

         "Did you want to live?" Quinn asked.

         Blaine looked up at the sun through the trees. "I don't remember," he answered honestly. He looked down at his forearm and traced the half-moon shaped scar there. "I was so lucky. I can't believe it, I guess."

         Quinn smiled. "Some people are too interesting to die."

         Once in awhile, Puck would pick a car and hot wire it to fiddle with the radio. As always, Quinn would silently sit shotgun, watching him work.

         Her infection had worsened until they were positive her blood was poisoned. She had a fever, she threw up, and her clothes were soaked in blood and pus. Puck held her and he cried and cried. "You're so beautiful," he would whisper. One night, they were sure she would go. They lay her down in one of the vans, and said their goodbyes.

         Blaine had simply whispered, "Goodbye Thelma." Quinn had smiled.

         Blaine didn't want to listen in to Puck's goodbye, but he did. "Not today," Puck told Quinn.

         "Today," she told him.

         And then, like the deus ex machina in a contrived film, Brittany swooped in with drugs. "Where did you get those?" Santana sputtered.

         "I made them," Brittany said, like it was the most obvious answer. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this?"

         Quinn lived.

         They all lived.

         It was a sunny day in spring, the weather was warm and Puck was fiddling with the radio, Quinn silently at his side.

         He got a signal.

         "FUCKINGCHRIST!" He screamed. "THERE'S SOMEONE ON THE RADIO."

         Everyone dropped what they were doing and they ran to the car. "The new border will stretch from the state formerly known as Alaska east to the Atlantic Ocean and southwards, stopping at the border of the country formerly known as Mexico," the radio crackled. "Now that Canada has annexed the United States, the country will be known as Bamitam. We will return in three hours with notes on curfew. Thank you."

         They didn't turn off the radio for days. For the first time in years, they were able to hear what had happened to their country, to their planet. Because of the heath care system in the United States; it had quickly become the most infected country on the planet after China. Chemicals were released that exterminated the Walkers throughout the country. The country was annexed by Canada. There had indeed been Walker testing facilities that were going to become active again. Any citizens found without papers would be subject to questioning.

         "Papers?" Santana asked. "How are we supposed to get papers in the wilderness?"

         "What kind of government is this?" Quinn wondered.

         "Fuck," was all Puck said.

***

         They came about nine days later. They had guns; they were dressed in riot gear. Quinn, Blaine and Puck were playing cards with a deck they had found in the glove compartment of one of the vans. Brittany and Santana were talking quietly in another van. It was sunny; there was a light breeze. It would have been a good day.

         One of the officers fired a round of shots in the air. "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!" Quinn went white. In all their time together, Blaine had never seen her as terrified as she was in that moment. Puck took her hand.

         "Not today," he told her.

         They stumbled out of the vans and stood before the officers. There were about ten of them. Blaine felt like a child. One of the officers stepped forward.

         "My name is Sergeant Romero," he said. "You will surrender your belongings and come with us."

         "Hold up, Captain Kangaroo," Santana snarled. "We're not bothering anyone, we're just living. If you want to come around and fire your guns off that's fine, but you can take your flabby policeman ass somewhere else, we're not going anywhere."

         A red dot appeared on Santana's forehead. It did not quiver; it was steady as a rock.

         "Don't test me," the Sergeant snarled back. "You little fuckers are living here without papers, and the testing facility has been broken into. You're coming with me."

         "If I give you my antidote, will you leave us alone?" Brittany asked softly.

         "What?" Romero asked.

         "Brittany, no," Santana whispered, tears starting to trail down her face.

         "Prove it," Romero stated.

         Blaine pulled up his sleeve and showed Romero his bite mark. "Does that look like a dog bite to you?" he asked, impressed with his courage. His voice was steady, but his legs were shaking.

         "I still want to test it," the Sergeant said coolly. "Sampson, get the Walker from the truck."

         One of the officers ran out of the clearing.

         Blaine stole a glance at Quinn, who was white as a sheet.

         "What…you're just going to…throw us to a Walker?" Quinn asked him.

         "If it works, you have nothing to worry about blondie," Romero spat. "As far as this government's concerned, without papers, you little fuckers don't exist."

         Quinn turned and threw up. Puck rubbed her back murmuring, "You're fine, you're fine," over and over.

         "Who is he? Your boyfriend?" Romero asked. "Maybe we'll test him."

         Quinn threw up again.

         Officer Sampson had arrived in the clearing again, wheeling up a cage with a Walker in it. It was a new Walker, strong, going mad with the scent of so much living prey.

         "Bring him over," Romero ordered, pointing at Puck.

         Two officers grabbed him and pulled him over to the cage. "I love you," Puck said. He was only looking at Quinn. "I love you I love you I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou…" The officers took his arm and jammed it in the Walker cage. Quinn brought her hands up to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Blaine wanted to touch her, help her, but he felt like he was in a nightmare. He wanted to wake up. He pinched himself so hard he was sure there were going to be bruises.

         The Walker moaned, grabbed Puck's arm and bit down. He didn't scream he just looked at Quinn.

         "Get the antidote," Romero ordered Brittany. She returned seconds later with a needle full of the antidote. "Shame you'll probably lose that arm," Romero told Puck, gesturing Brittany to administer the antidote.

         Brittany looked at Puck sadly as she administered the antidote. When she was done, she gently kissed his cheek. He was drenched in sweat.

         "It will take about half an hour," Brittany said.

         "We'll wait," Romero said.

         They waited.

         Quinn tried to run to Puck, but a red dot appeared on her forehead as well.

         Puck lived.

         The red dots stayed, but Quinn ran to him anyway.

         Blaine had never seen them hold each other so tightly. Puck whispered something in her ear, desperate, it looked like instructions. She shook her head, he whispered harder and faster. An officer pulled them apart.

         "I love you," he said.

         Another officer kicked him in the ribs. "That's enough of that shit," the officer said.

         Quinn threw up again.

         "Alright," Romero said. "We're going to take Mr. Hero over here, the scientist and the immigrant," he glanced at Santana. "And we're going to load them in a truck. Five officers will stay here to monitor blondie and dog bite."

         The officers grabbed Puck, Santana and Brittany and escorted them out of the clearing. Five officers remained, pointing their guns at Quinn and Blaine.

         "Blaine," Quinn said so softly Blaine wasn't even sure he heard it. "The teal Honda has been hot wired, all we have to do is touch the ignition wires and we can drive away. I am going to count to three. You will drive. OK?"

         "OK," Blaine said.

         "One."

         Some of the officers shuffled, putting down their guns. There was commotion outside of the clearing. Puck was fighting back.

         "What about the others?" Blaine asked.

         "Puck said just go," Quinn said, her voice breaking. "Two."

         "I'm sorry," Blaine said.

         "We have to be thankful for what we had," Quinn said. "Three."

         They bolted for the teal Honda before the officers had time to react. Blaine touched the ignition wires and hit the gas as Quinn secured them with the electrical tape Puck kept in every car.

         "Where do I go?" Blaine asked frantically as the car whipped through the forest.

         "I don't know," Quinn said, her voice thin. "Just drive."

         They got out of the forest after about five minutes of driving and they hit a dirt road, Blaine floored the gas pedal. They could hear a helicopter above, vans behind them. Someone fired a gun.

         "Shit!" Quinn cried, crouching down.

         Blaine turned off the road and drove through the flat grass around the highway. They wouldn't get caught. They couldn't. There had to be a way out of here. The flat plain ended. They found themselves approaching the edge of a cliff. Blaine hit the brakes, the car jerking to a stop.   

         "We're going to get caught," Blaine said breathlessly.

         Quinn laughed. "I can't believe this. Do you see?"

         Blaine stared over the steering wheel at the edge of the cliff. "Quinn," he breathed.

         "Let's not get caught," Quinn said, her voice breaking.

         "What are you talking about?" Blaine asked, even though he knew exactly what Quinn was talking about.

         "Let's keep going," Quinn said, turning to look at the edge of the cliff.

         "What do you mean?" Blaine's voice was thick with tears.

         "Go."

         "You sure?"

         "Yeah. Hit it." Quinn turned and smiled.

         They laughed, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They could end it on their terms. They had survived the virus, but they wouldn't survive the future. Blaine leaned over and kissed her on the mouth chastely, tasting her sweat and tears.

         Blaine hit the gas. They clasped hands. He heard gunshots from the helicopter above. It didn't matter.

         He was a hunter.

         He was not their prey.

         The car approached the edge of the cliff and he did not want to back away, did not want to stop.

         Quinn was breathing fast; clutching Blaine's hand so tightly he couldn't feel it anymore.

            And then they flew.