#brilena

Now that Lima was overrun with flesh-fiending freaks, Elena was suddenly overcome with a desire to have heard what her mother was telling her this morning, or to have even known for sure whether her father had been home or at work. Her heart fell into her stomach at the thought: if her father had been at work, how would he have made it out? Video games had informed her that hospitals were the absolute worst place to be in a zombie apocalypse, seconded only by police stations and churches. Her father was a former soldier, but was he in any way prepared for the dead to come back to life and try to make a damn meal out of him? And her mother, what chance did a woman with little to no athletic ability and absolutely no experience handling weapons have against the unyielding undead? And Santana, her twin, her sister, her... well, they had been each other's other half at one point in their lives. Where was Santana in all of this? Shouldn't she, as a twin, have some sort of fucking sixth sense or some shit? Shouldn't she know whether or not her former womb-mate was still alive? But that was the problem with zombie apocalypses, Elena thought, sighing as she gripped her field hockey stick tighter and turned away from the carnage to look at Bri's face in the rearview mirror. You didn't know who was dead until they were coming after your brains.

There was no point in believing anyone was still alive if they weren't right there by your side; empty hope was a waste of energy. So, she took all of her questions about her family, all of her useless feelings and wonderings and unfamiliar worries, and threw them the fuck out. As far as she was concerned, the only people left for her to care about were Bri, Brittany, and herself. She would go home, yes, but she would be prepared to do what she had to do - she would assume the worst as the most plausible situation first. This was a zombie apocalypse, hanging onto the slim chance that her family could still be alive was a shit plan. Her plan went something more like this: she would run in, deal with the undead versions of her family members without feeling or emotion, grab a few changes of clothes, stuff as many power bars, granola bars, and bags of nuts and trail mix into her bag as possible, grab a couple of her bats for backup weapons, and get back to the Jeep before Bri and Britt were overtaken by whatever ravenous, stumbling morons were in the vicinity. People called her selfish, but the fact of the matter was that besides herself, Bri was probably the most important person in her life and Brittany was just as important to Bri as Bri was to Elena. Bri had always been her best friend - she was the only person she could trust in her own opinion and as long as Bri was safe and fighting alongside her, Elena was both confident in their chance for survival and elated that she at least wouldn't have to put up with anyone else's shit. And maybe... she'd finally get her chance with Bri, or you know, at least a 'it's the end of the fucking world' fuck. She'd never been the type to do relationships, but out of anyone that she knew, she had always figured it would be Bri since she was technically the only person she could stand to be around for more than five minutes. Not that she cared about that sort of thing, but she would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about her best friend that way before, or like, now when she watched her tap the ashes off of her cigarette without a fucking care in the world that the streets of her hometown were full of reanimated corpses.