Author's Note:
This is my first Left 4 Dead Fanfiction, let alone my first ever fanfiction. So please don't hesitate to leave your thoughts or comments in the review! I will accept any criticism as long as it is SUPPORTIVE criticism. As for this story goes, it is based on the video-game Left 4 Dead (owned by Valve) and will be focused primarily on Zoey and her point-of-view, who is also my favorite character of the franchise. Anything in italics are the thoughts by the character. This chapter will be the shortest chapter of this story; every chapter from now on will be much longer. This is just a start to see how much of a response it gets. This story is rated M for cursing, violence, mature themes, blood, and gore and should be read by mature audiences only. On one last note: read, review, and (if you really enjoy it) favorite!
Prologue
The echo of blood-curdling screams filled my head as I ran for dear life. I set off yet another car alarm; alerting those things, those monsters. The very monsters that had killed my family. Mom and… and dad. Both taken away from me in a matter of seconds by those things. Those blood-thirsty, heartless, wretched things. I ran faster and faster; skidding my sneakers on the pavement with each step. Their eyes… I remember them so well: glazed over, pearl white, dull, and lifeless. Almost like they were dead, but they weren't. They were undead, the living dead, zombies, whatever you want to call them. Upon finding an unoccupied alleyway, I buried myself under the piles of rubble. Gross. This smell is almost unbearable. But I must stay hidden until those things pass by. After what seemed like hours, those things were gone… for now at least, I thought to myself.
Feeling that it was safe enough to uncover myself from the rubble, I stood up to examine the damage from my most recent encounter. "Not bad," I said while scanning myself for any visible injuries, "just a few bumps and bruises". My sneakers, however, took a beating from all the running I did within the past few hours. My jeans and jacket stayed intact for the most part though. I brushed off some of the dirt from the rubble off of my jacket to reveal the embroidery that was custom made for me. 'Zoey' it read. That's my name after all. Though ever since the city, possibly even the whole country, has gone down the shit-hole, I doubt names matter anymore. Heck, I may even be the last person that's not one of those things. "What the hell even happened?" I questioned to myself. Not even two days ago, an emergency broadcast was sent out talking about some virus that had spread rapidly. I remember a few months ago this virus, I think called the T-virus at the time, was supposed to be some cure or something. Heck, what do I know? After neglecting to go to any classes, I've been busting a sweat to get up to a passing grade before the term ends. I've had no time, and frankly, I didn't care about what was going on in the world beyond my dorm. It is, or it was, my freshman year of college after all. "The best years of my life were my college years," my mom once said to me. In fact, just before the world turned upside-down I came to the city to visit my parents. We were eating dinner when their neighbor came knocking at the door...and then… and then he just lunged at mom… bit her on the neck. Dad grabbed his pistol and shot him between the eyes. I went to check on mom, but she tried to bit me too. That's when dad shot her too just after she turned and bit him too. She… she dropped to the floor in a heap. Blood… just so much blood splattered around the room. Dad just looked to me and dropped too; clutching his bitten arm, he whispered to me "Shoot me". I did. I killed him. I killed my own father. As I recalled the most terrifying moment of my life, I collapsed to the cold, hard pavement in the alleyway. I shuttered and that's when I broke down. After two days, I finally broke. "Shit," I muttered between breaths. "Shit."
I stuck to the alleyways from then on- not taking any more chances with those stupid car alarms. I peered around every corner with my pistol at the ready. The same pistol I shot my father with… Don't bring up those bad memories now Zoey, stay focused. I quickly snapped out of it and continued onward. I only had two bullets left after losing a full clip while running and all the others wasted on bad aim. Honestly, even after what those things have done, I don't even want to shoot them. I wouldn't be able to. They're still people… just blood- thirsty and savage people. What am I talking about…they all deserve to die. Yet, I still don't see myself shooting them. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. After a few blocks I started thinking of all those survival shows I watched in my early teen years and decided that it would be best to find shelter. "You're in the city, not the wild Zoey", I reminded myself, "use your head". After a little while I found an unlocked convenience store and started to seal-tight any openings. "Seems safe enough for the night I guess," I said while looking over my work, "Now to just find some food". All I had on me was a can of baked beans, microwaveable soup, and an almost empty jar of peanut butter. Enough to another night or two, but definitely not enough to make me last. I scanned the selves about four or five times before coming to the conclusion that the store had been swiped clean when the outbreak started. "Great," I muttered under my breath. After thoughtful rationing, I finished the can of beans and set aside the other stuff for tomorrow. Locking myself in a maintenance closet for extra safety, I curled up in a ball and wrapped myself with my jacket. In no time, I drifted into unconsciousness, not worrying about a damn thing.