Hi people, this is my first story! Please be nice about it. I don't own Left 4 Dead or The Beatles. I do own any OCs that pop up. Please be nice about this story.
April 9th, 1971-The Dakota: Manhattan, New York
John Lennon stood at his bedroom window, full of excitement. His wife, Yoko Ono, was returning from a family reunion today. The streets were strangely clear of cars and people, at least working cars and living people. Two days ago, a virus was discovered. If you recieved the virus, you weren't safe. You would become a zombie with a thirst for people, and no human emotions at all. All anybody could do was stay in their homes to be safe. Only brave people left. Nobody would come back.
John heard the door creak open and turned around quickly. He dashed towards his and Yoko's mudroom, his heart beating with anticipation at the thought of meeting his beloved wife again. But there was nobody at the door. He looked around the house, innocently calling, "Yoko?" His heart was still beating, but with nerves. He finally tried their bedroom, looking under their bed and under the desk, wondering where she could be. He called out again, "Yoko? Are you in here?"
Suddenly, a moan and crying filled John's ears. He leaned his ear toward their large closet door, and heard the crying getting stronger. John creaked the door open, and saw his wife crying, her long black hair covering her face. John approached her and tried to tap her on the shoulder, rub her back, or something else that would comfort Yoko. But before he could touch her, she looked up at John.
Her eyes glowed a ruby red, and a beak nose with a angry mouth completed her face. Her black clothes were bloodstained and John tensed. The Yoko Ono that John knew was gone, and in it's place was a emotionless, ugly zombie. She began to groan even louder, and soon uttered a piercing shreik that scared John. "HOLY SHIT!" he screamed. He left the closet running, Zombie Yoko behind him. She was still shreiking as he found his way into their white room. As soon as she was close enough, John saw her fingers had grown into long, bloody claws.
John grabbed the tambourine from the piano bench and slammed it onto Yoko's head. She fell back and gave John enough time to grab a knife from the kitchen. He darted and found the biggest knife. Yoko was in the kitchen, shreiking her head off. John swished the knife around and frightened Yoko back away from him. He swung the knife again, and it flew out of his hands and into the wall. She charged back at him, causing John to grab her by the neck. He tried to choke her, but she merely struggled to move out of his grip. He pushed her against the wall, shoving her head into it over and over and over again.
She began to get control, swinging it so she was closer to the door. John was beginning to lose his grip, when he heard a bang. Yoko stopped squirming, and fell limp. John looked past Yoko to the person who shot her in the back. John's savior was a man who looked around his forties, with graying brown hair and greenish-grey eyes that looked pale compared to his lightly tanned skin. He had a hooked nose, and thin lips. He was staring directly at John and he felt his stomach drop when he began to speak, "I'm Richard. Richard Dawson. You know, from Hogan's Heroes. I was walking around and heard struggling coming from this apartment. So I ran up here and saw you strangling with that witch-"
"My wife isn't a witch!" John said, defending his long-gone Yoko. Richard held up his hands in defeat, "Hey take it easy. When she was infected she became a witch. Stay away from any witches. If we pass any on the way, don't shine any light on them, don't shoot them, and don't approach them. Ignore them, you understand?" John nodded, holding his lunch down. Then he asked, "So... should I come with you, or...?"
"You're coming with us. But first we need to get you a gun." A young girl, around her late twenties, appeared, with creamy blond hair and hazel eyes. Her nose was straight, and her lips were full. She looked like an angel, though her jeans were ripped and her light blue shirt was covered in blood. She was holding a shotgun, the same one Richard was holding. "My name is Quinn. Quinn Evans. I'm Richard's sister." John nodded and left the apartment with his two newfound friends.
