A/N: I've been having a little difficulty with my other fanfic Let Me Sing to You Tonight and I haven't been enthused or inspired enough to finish the next chapter. This is something that I've had rattling around my brain for a while. I don't have an exact idea of how many chapters this will be but it should be under ten. I'd love feedback because if the interest isn't there, I tend to scrap WiPs.

Slight background- This is Faberry though the first two-three chapters are more Quinn-centric. This is my first time taking on an action story so be wary that it might not be amazing. Lastly, this is a zombie fic that's not really a zombie fic. These aren't people coming back from the dead. These are Infecteds - people whose minds have degraded to where they're essentially running on basic instincts.

Any other facts? Early humans did indeed resort to cannibalism. Sharks are distantly related to humans. Without a superego and an ego to control humans, we'd essentially be just like the Infected. Ask as many questions as you'd like and I promise to answer. If you're an anon, please leave a way for me to contact you otherwise I'll just add a short brief response to you at the end of the next chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

It was a scream that woke her. Quinn could hear the panicked yelling of the people several rooms over, her heart speeding up as she remembered where she was and why she was there.

She reached over and pulled at wires connecting her to several machines, barely registering the sharp pain in her side as she struggled to her feet. Her eyes were wide, taking in the pandemonium in the hallway, but all thoughts gave way to a single one.

Beth.

She had no idea what was happening but the snippets – the small phrase she'd catch as a nurse ran past her room, the wails of pained unfortunate souls in the background. Shaking her head, she moved forward to where her clothes had been tucked away in a neatly prepared diaper bag.

It was to be a routine hospital visit. Quinn would come in, have a baby, and leave. Now, the blonde just needed to find her daughter and get out. She didn't have the time to worry about exactly what was going on, her mind weighted with much more important concerns.

Her jeans were on in less than twenty seconds, her shirt in less than ten. Quinn shoved the remnants of her belongings into a backpack, her eyes lingering for just half a second on a small box already in there, before pulling on a pair of sneakers and standing up to leave.

She wasn't sure where Beth was. She wasn't even sure where in the building she herself was. Her eyes darted to the door as a frantic young nurse hurried past, stopping for just a second to address the blonde. Her eyes held terror but as they raked over the ready backpack and the dressed blonde; she picked up the clipboard hanging by the door and answered Quinn's prayers with just a few words. "She's in the nursery on the second floor. Take the stairs. The elevators have been shut down."

Quinn holstered the backpack, taking a deep breath and moved through the doorway.

Suddenly, she's running through the forest, her hand firmly clasped around Rachel's who is gripping Beth to her chest with her free hand as if her life depended on it.

It had been a year since the escape from the hospital. Rachel had met Quinn halfway with a swaddled newborn in her arms, and with a brief kiss and a sigh of relief, the trio had fled.

"Hold on to Beth and just keep running, Rach, no matter what."

Quinn shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present, and grunts out to the brunette by her side. "Faster, Rachel. We've got to move faster."

They're out of breath but the constant noise trailing behind them is enough to make sure they don't pause for even a second.

No one sees the slightly raised branch protruding from the earth and Quinn takes the fall hard, groaning in pain. She hardly registers Rachel's scream when suddenly, there's a pressure on top of the blonde and she's fighting off a frenzied man twice her size.

She brings her knee up, connecting it with the tender walls of his stomach, shoving him off as another frontrunner from the amassing crowd rushes past her.

"Rachel!"

The blonde struggles to her feet, gripping tightly to the heavy piece of metal she had strapped to her thigh. The gunshot is deafening but she doesn't flinch.

Rolling her shoulders back in a slow stretch, Quinn takes a deep breath and turns to the crowd alone, a pained scream sounding off in the forest before all that can be heard is silence.

Hazel eyes shot open, nimble delicate fingers long since tainted with dirt and blood tightly fisting the ragged sheet she lay on. A low shuddering breath was the only indication of the blonde's terror as she tried to regain her composure.

"It's been 10 years, Fabray. When are you going to get over this?" Quinn muttered, scrubbing her face harshly before raking an unsteady hand through her dirtied locks.

Sighing, the blonde stood and moved to exit her tent, but not before she holstered the small gun that she had kept with her at all times. Some preferred rifles; others, intricate designs and attachments.

Quinn Fabray didn't. She was traditional and her Glock demonstrated that. She wasn't one for silencers either. She liked the sound of the jolting crack in the air but moreover, she liked that it shook her bones every time and reminded her that she was still alive…still fighting.

"Fabray, they caught another one. They're preparing for the tests and they want you over at the aquarium ASAP."

The blonde gave the man a short nod, her eyes closing and her lungs filling with air, before she exhaled slowly and deliberately, reluctantly making her way over to the tank.

"Jesus Christ, Evans!" Quinn muttered, as she neared the large aquarium that had been set up at the edge of the camp, a large tiger shark circling the edges.

The man atop of the ladder grinned sheepishly down at her, brushing his long hair out of his face. "Beggars can't be choosers, Quinn. We got this bad boy from the Columbus aquarium."

She watched as he climbed down, noting how he'd aged throughout the years. Sam Evans had been a love in her life once, but their relationship had changed. Now, he was simply the only one she could call family anymore. And she wasn't the only one Sam had stood by. Sam had seen the deterioration of his siblings. He had been there step-by-step through all of the stages of the infection, and Quinn had been there when their cases were flagged for the Containment Team.

"Fabray! Get out of your head and update me on your plan!" Wilson barked, shouldering the blonde woman hard as he stalked over to the tank.

Expelling an angry sigh, Quinn moved over to stand next to the Commander of the C.T. and graciously accepted the tattered binder from Sam with a small smile. "Well, since you asked so nicely, as you know we've harvested a strain of the infection ourselves and we're looking to infect and then successfully cure a shark with one of the cocktails that we've been working on. We feel like-"

"Shorten this, Fabray. I've heard all this before and frankly, I've got more important things to do than hear about how the primitive mind of humanity was a distant sister to fucking Jaws over there."

"Cousin, Wilson. And if I'm to be as frank as you are, killing off anyone who so much as gets a fever in the camp doesn't strike me as more important." Quinn snapped, brushing past the taller man. "I'll go ahead and dumb this down for you. We're going to make that shark in there angrier than your mama must have been with your father when she got a good look at you, and then we're going to cure it. Hopefully, before you murder anyone else in the name of 'containment'."

Quinn only thinly disguised her contempt then moved to the small table, running over the injections and pulling out a sickly pink one when she found herself suddenly pressed up against the wall of the tank. "Listen to me, and listen closely. The only reason you can get away with talking like that is because inside your pretty little head is a way to fix this whole fucking thing. But you stay in your damn place or I will make sure that you find yourself outside the walls of this fucking place without me to-"

Wilson stopped suddenly, his icy blue eyes widening just fractionally as he stepped back with the muzzle of a recently polished Glock pressed against his crotch. Quinn smirked, thoroughly enjoying the fear in the man's eyes that he couldn't hide. "I don't need you, Wilson. Not to protect me or to put me in my place. The only reason, I haven't found a way to get rid of you is because I'm not the lowlife you are and I know, believe me, Wilson, I KNOW, that you just pray every night for this to be over so you can stop pretending not to be scared shitless by compensating for that tiny little thing you call a dick between your legs with that machine gun you lug around everywhere." Accentuating her point with a small jab of her gun, Quinn turned on her heel and returned to prepping the injections for their experiment.

The blonde, along with her small but very capable team, had deduced that the infection had been the result of some unfortunate genetic coincidence and its exact whereabouts undetermined as of yet. Quinn had scrapped that investigation almost immediately after being placed in charge of the production. 'Fix it first, figure out where the fuck it came from later,' she always said. After close examination, a list of symptoms had been drawn up and over time, stages separated, and durations for each mapped out. By some odd stroke of luck, they had been able to procure a working MRI scanner and using one of the scrapped bodies on the floor, Quinn was able to determine the end result of the infection.

Somehow, it destroyed the more complex areas of the human brain, reducing a human to its earliest stages. The conclusion, however shocking, had been the missing piece to understanding what was going on. A member of Quinn's team had been working on a dissertation on cannibalism, and explained how early humans had actually resorted to killing and eating each other when food was scarce.

"Look around, you guys. There's no more wild game roaming around where we can kill it. This disease takes you right down to the basics. You eat, you shit, you sleep. Right now? We're the easiest things to catch and eat," he explained, the severity of their situation becoming even more terrifying.

The realization had shook the camp to the core but it had taken just a few hours before Quinn had assembled a plan. With the knowledge that sharks were distant cousins to humans, the blonde set to work on developing a strain of the virus herself and began infecting the sharks that Sam and his team were able to catch. The scarceness of the animals was a weight on Quinn's shoulders and she had to be very careful with each animal she tested.

The first injection, containing the virus, managed to perpetually anger the sharks, regardless of species, driving it to the edge. The large beast would leap out of the makeshift tank, jaws snapping, eyes wide and focused solely on the people surrounding it. Feeding the shark became an even more feared job and Quinn had seen many limbs and lives lost to the circling monsters.

Quinn initially worked beneath a doctor who had been rescued from Ohio State University. He had been a kind old man who went out of his way to teach the blonde everything he knew. It had saddened her greatly when he contracted the virus and the containment team sprung into action. However, with his death, Quinn was catapulted into the head position and that had been where she had worked since then. She had successfully managed to pull together something that would quell the symptoms temporarily, keeping the next stage and the trigger-happy members of the containment team at bay.

This tiger shark would be the first to receive what she hoped was the cure. She had been so close with the last time. The injection seemed to rid the individual of the virus completely, but Quinn had not foreseen the weakness the antivirus had in comparison to the infected body's attack. The antivirus had seemed to properly do its job, the lemon shark's temperament becoming as docile as it had been when initially brought to camp. She had been able to enter the tank without any threat and the camp had cheered as Wilson and the containment team gave the treatment to each of the infected people, despite Quinn's protests.

It wasn't until the next day when a young man, perhaps nineteen or twenty, went to feed the shark that Quinn realized something was off. The lemon shark stopped mid-circle, rushing to where the man was standing. The blonde's warning died in her throat, her mouth agape in horror as the screams sounded off all around her. The thrashing of the water soon calmed until the only remnants of what had just occurred was the dark red water and a sole fin circling the tank relentlessly.

She had turned, bolting in the direction of the quarantine tent. The gunshots ringing out stopped her in her tracks, the tears springing to her eyes as the infection broke out inside camp for the first time in years. The number of deaths had been so high, Quinn had been unable to think of anything else for weeks after.

Shaking her head, the pale girl tried hard to forget the memories of failed experiments and stepped forward with the virus. She handed it to Sam who expertly injected the shark with ease, leaping out of the tank as the shark thrashed around in pain.

He stood next to Quinn, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a side hug. A wild flick of the tail produced a cracking sound and the blonde duo grimaced simultaneously.

"I'll grab Adam and we'll go see if we can find something to fix up that tank before it bursts." Sam offered but Quinn shook her head, nudging the blonde man gently.

"You just got back from a scavenging trip. I'll find a few other guys to head out for the supplies while you rest." Quinn ordered, pointing in the direction of two men, leaning up against the gate. "Jacobs and Morgan, grab some fuel from the cabin and the keys for the quads. You guys are up for scavenging." Turning back to Sam, the blonde offered a smirk. "You've been replaced, Evans. Now grab some sleep before you drop from sheer exhaustion."

Sam grinned fondly at the woman, turning towards his tent but calling back to her over his shoulder. "So caring, Quinn. It's a wonder why Wilson doesn't like you."

The pale woman fought the smile making its way to her face, rolling her eyes before heading back to work.

It began as a simple argument.

Quinn had been resting against a tree nearby the tank when shouting had caught her attention. She groaned internally, slowly rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her head. Letting out a silent yawn, the lithe woman moved towards the source of the noise languidly, in no rush to intervene.

It was the clatter of glass that set a sense of urgency aflame. She was running full speed towards the overturned table when a low cry of pain reached her. The sight that awaited her sent chills down her spine. The small table, laden with glass vials full to the brim with viruses, possible treatments, and a ready injection of the virus straight, was overturned, shattered glass on the floor. Wilson lay propped up against the tank, a small needle lodged in his side, the remnants of pink liquid draining into his system. She turned to look at Sam, who stood shocked as he took in what had happened.

"I- I didn't mean to, Quinn. He- he said something about my sister and- fuck, I just pushed him, Quinn. I didn't think this was going to happen."

"Fucking hell." Quinn breathed out, her hand already resting on the butt of her pistol. "Wilson? Wilson, can you hear me?"

The burly man groaned softly, lolling his head from side to side as the virus began to take control. His body tensed suddenly and Quinn was immediately at the ready, her pistol no longer holstered but gripped tightly in her hand.

She watched as the man's gaze shifted from the needle lodged in his side to the pistol in her hand, his eyes closing as the back of his head gently hit the tank he sat against. Cautiously, Quinn moved forward, one hand reaching out towards Wilson and the other taking the safety off her gun. Before she realized what was happening, Quinn found herself being shoved aside as Wilson made a break for the gate.

Scrambling for her gun, the blonde turned and shot off a few rounds, cursing when she missed.

"Fucking hell!" She swore again, kicking the dirt angrily. Turning to Sam, Quinn composed herself quickly and instructed the man to shut the gates and barricade any other entrances. "He'll try to come back. They get hungry, not stupid. He's going to lead the entire fucking colony to us."

On the first night following his escape, the blonde could swear she could hear the agonized screams of Wilson during her self-appointed shift at guard duty. She froze at every sound resembling a pained grunt, her hand flying to her pistol.

Even during the day, Quinn had been unable to concentrate. She had turned over the experiment to her second in command, a young girl who had studied marine biology. Her mind was plagued with what she knew was an imminent attack and she worked with the other soldiers to form a fool-proof strategy. Once news had broken out about Wilson's infection, it had been unanimous to put the entire camp on lockdown.

A curfew had been implemented as well as round the clock armed guard duty. No one without special clearance was allowed outside the walls and even then, upon their return, they were stripped and searched for any suspicious lacerations.

A few days had passed but Quinn found herself unable to relax. Hazel eyes always flitted to the edges of her surroundings, searching for anything that may seem out of place. The tension in the camp seemed to lessen as hers only appeared to be increasing.

She was on edge and found herself much jumpier than normal. Twice she had found the barrel of her gun aimed directly between Sam's eyes, the second time nearly two weeks after Wilson had abandoned the camp. She had lectured the blonde man on the dangers of sneaking up on someone at post but he had just shrugged, nudging the girl playfully.

"I just came to give you some coffee, Q, see if you wanted any company." He offered amicably, a soft smile making its way onto his face.

Quinn just shook her head, opening her mouth to tell Sam to get some sleep when a noise caught their attention. Both blondes whipped around, Sam gripping a hold of the light and shining it in the direction of the rustling bush.

The pale girl had her gun aimed in the exact same spot but a small movement to the right drew her gaze to a different location. She let out a silent gasp, her eyes meeting those of Wilson's. She felt a shiver tear down her spine as the man smirked before stepping back and vanishing in the dead of night. It was when she heard a larger rustling that Quinn realized the worst.

"Wilson-" She choked out, her hands still gripping the pistol tightly.

Sam nodded once, the grim realization settling on to his features as he stared into the forest. "He wasn't alone, Quinn. We need a new plan."

Quick thank you to mjActon who has been looking over and reviewing this for me so that it's ready for you guys to read. Please review. I'd love to gauge the interest in this story so as to decide whether it'll be continued or not. As far as the updates will go, it'll be once a week, sometime over the weekend but feel free to hit the alert button because life sometimes has a way of making me fall behind. -B