An: Hey everyone. I haven't written much in awhile. To be frank, I just graduated from high school and moved straight from my home to a new state so things a pretty chaotic. I'm a stress case and the only cathartic means for releasing said built up tension is to write. Now with my bags and boxes somewhat opened, I had the chance to write and rewrite this little thing.
I know I originally wrote a story dubbed, Team Bartowski versus the Dead last year. I had stopped it due to writer's block and laziness. But since we're on hiatus, I decided to write a redux version of my fic. It's way way different, but still is a slight crossover with Left 4 Dead (1 & 2)
I have no clue when this will be updated, it'll mostly be based upon reviews and positive feedback I guess. I'm bored and lonely so who know? I may continue this
So you know the drill: R&R
Chapter One—Better Safe Than Sorry
Date: December 7th, 2010
Time: 9:15 PM
Location: Los Angeles International Church of Christ, California
Note(s): Secondary hot zone in the Los Angeles County. There are currently a 100:1 infected to survivor ratio. Use extreme caution and discretions when gathering supplies or rescuing civilians. A Safe House is located within the Church. It is encouraged to seek refuge by nightfall.
-It has been six months, seven days, nineteen hours and thirty-five seconds since the first wave of the Infection. The CEDA (Civil Emergency and Defense Agency) calls it the Green Flu.
"Better safe than sorry, better safe than sorry…."
Chuck leaned up against the wall, an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder. He was palming his face, growing increasingly irritated while the man behind the metal encased door resumed his incoherent ramblings. Chuck's free hand was snaked around the handle of the gun, fingers forever doomed to tremble at any sign of danger.
"Better safe than sorry, better safe than sorry…b-better safe than sorry."
"This guy is getting on my fucking nerves," Casey growled. He was taking cover from behind a rickety old piano. In a kneeling position, he glared venomously at the safe room's door. There was hatred in his icy blue eyes, wanting nothing more than to silence whoever was barricaded in the next room.
Sarah nodded in agreement. She was pressed up in the crook of where the walls joined in to a narrow corner. She was staring into her sniper rifle's scope, scanning outside of the church for infected humans. Seeing one limping by itself down in the patch of grass, she pulled the trigger. Its head exploded like a watermelon.
She cocked the gun back, releasing the empty casing out of the clip. She lowered the rifle slowly, turning her head to the side to meet Chuck and Casey's exhausted faces.
"He's not going to let us in, is he?" She asked. However she knew the answer and regretted asking at all.
Chuck ran a gloved hand through his newly shortened hair (it helped prevent further outbreak believe it or not, even to Sarah's chagrin) and shrugged. "Seriously doubtful. If what we've heard so far is any indication, this guy seriously is coo coo for Coco Puffs."
A twitch of a smile made its way to the corner of Sarah's lips while Casey only groaned at the younger man's attempt at humor. There was no time for jokes. It was a high stress situation after all. A long pause overwhelmed the lighter atmosphere; Chuck and Sarah both forced their smiles away.
A few seconds later and, "Maybe we should try talking to him?"
Casey snorted. He stole a disbelieving look to the only female of the group. "We already tried that, remember? You know how well that went."
Sarah shrugged her shoulders in a resigned fashion. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the rifle still grasped firmly in her hands. She averted her gaze; Chuck observed this in stark silence. He snuck closer towards the iron clad door and traded glances with Sarah and Casey. Chuck encouraged them with a hopeful grin. "Well, where's the harm in trying again?"
Sarah was surprised but nevertheless sent him an earnest look. Chuck could see the appreciation glitter in her sapphire gaze. There was a quick flash of a smile (Chuck almost missed it) and then it was gone. Casey saw the nonverbal exchange and rolled his eyes.
He muttered under his breath, "Oh for God's sake…" The two lovers simply ignored him and went through with the plan. Chuck steeled himself. His knuckles rasped against the door. Then the three spies-turned-survivors waited in unsure silence. No one knew really what to expect this time around.
"Who's there? Are you human?" was the frantic response. "If you're infected, I'm not letting you in!"
"Here we go again," Casey muttered quietly. It was too good to be true. Sarah shot a steely glare his way. He shrugged.
Swallowing the thick bile in his throat, Chuck straightened upright. He answered boldly, "Please can you let us in? We're all immune, you can trust us."
The man responded shrilly, "How can I trust you? With your expensive weapons and your fancy blood?"
Chuck hung his head and shook it in disbelief. He massaged the bridge of his nose and spoke in a calm but convincing voice: "Listen, we are all federal agents. We work for the government and we're here to rescue survivors."
"Feds?" the man whispered.
"Yeah, so how about you let us in, jerk-ass?" Casey barked angrily.
Both Chuck and Sarah shot daggers at the tired and dispassionate Colonel. Their glares practically screamed: Shut up! Do you want to die?
All the while, the man had been repeating: "The Feds…." He mused stupidly, "You don't sound like federal agents!"
Chuck tore his eyes from Casey and refocused back to the barred door. He pleaded, "We are, and we're here to help you." His voice became exasperated. "Let us help you, all right?"
The man did not respond immediately. Chuck pressed his palm on the cold steel door and exhaled noisily. Sarah lingered by his side and remained quiet. She frankly hated the silence. She could hear the faint cries from outside the walls of the church. They sounded vulgar to the senses; the cacophony caused shivers to trail up her spine. Hairs stood up on end. Oh god, please make it stop.
The screeching of the infected ceased momentarily. They were drowned out by the hysterical yammering of a crazed man. "You're a liar!" he accused, "Your words mean shit to me!"
Casey looked around like he had enough. His nostrils flared as his brows narrowed into slits. He climbed to his feet (almost bulldozing the piano to dust) and made a beeline straight for the door. He took the brunt end up the gun and banged it against the hard surface. It caused a loud, thumping noise. Chuck's eyes widened and he reached a hand and grabbed a hold of Casey's Kevlar vest. He yanked with all his might and managed to pull the bigger man away. Chuck then smacked him on the shoulder and shot him a warning look.
The undead resumed their groaning. Sarah covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. "Stop, stop, stop…" she mumbled to herself. No one heard her desperation. Oh why did she have to be at her weakest when it mattered most? She was being stupid, so, stupid.
A few feet next to her, Chuck was still concentrating hard on Casey. He said lowly, "You do that and he'll snap."
Casey raised an eyebrow.
"Or he'll switch from a crazy harmless guy to a dangerous psycho killer."
The Colonel mentioned offhandedly, "The way I see it, no matter what we do, something's gonna set him off. It might as well be us. Let's scare him to death and force our way in."
"That's never going to work," whispered Chuck harshly. He looked from the barred door to Casey, who was clutching his gun so tight his knuckles were bleeding white.
And so the oh so lovable angry-center has returned, Chuck pondered drily. He knew how Casey's temper had been failing him (and the team) frequently as of late. It was because his old fiancée, Kathleen McHugh had perished during the first wave of the Infection not too long ago. With her dead, it left his estranged adult daughter Alex under his protection. But she'll be safe…Morgan has been keeping her company back at the compound. If only Casey could understand that—
There was a delayed crack of thunder. Sarah had mustered her resolve (tears however were pooling in her irises) and fired the sniper rifle. The single bullet hit its target with deadly accuracy. The infected thing that was wobbling towards the church gurgled once and then blew up in a mass of red blood and mutilated flesh. She removed her eye from the scope and stole a cold glance over her shoulder. She was unwittingly shaking.
"Casey, please just get it done. Even if that means blowing that door open with a pipe bomb. Do anything necessary."
Chuck sighed. He recognized the tinge of impatience and sorrow reverberating in Sarah's tone. However, he paid no heed to the sounds of muffled sniffling coming from a premature breakdown. It only seemed to him that he was being singled-out as the levelheaded one.
He thought sadly: It's a pretty fucked-up world when I'm the only one thinking logically around here….apocalypse or not.
He swept a hand across his face; felt grim infest the pores of his skin and shuddered. There was something very wrong with this. He wasn't supposed to be the reasonable one. He was supposed to freak out. For over three years he had been the one who couldn't keep a tight lid on his emotions. But it wasn't the same. Hell, it'd never be the same.
Chuck no longer felt the fear.
After everything that had happened—Shaw's betrayal, the Intersect's malfunctioning, his dad's murder…he felt dangerously numbed by it all.
It must be some god-awful form of systematic desensitization. No wonder why this virus isn't affecting me properly. I've gone through too much for it to hurt me. He thought wirily, Plus, I've played too many zombie videogames to count. This is probably a piece of cake for my deranged psyche.
There was another silver lining that Chuck almost had forgotten to account for. He stared at the back of Sarah's head; her blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail. His eyes softened and his heart panged in his chest.
He was still human. He could love, and he loved Sarah, his sister Ellie (and the little one growing in her belly), all of his friends that have lived and died since the Infection began. He thanked that higher power for not completely abandoning him. But there was still a piece of him, probably innocence that had been lost because of the global disaster. And how could he not have lost it? Everyone had been tainted by the outbreak. Chuck had seen some horrible things in the last six months: there were pillaged cities that had been a fiery hot zone only to turn into ghost towns. People Chuck knew had been taken from him, either sick with the Green Flu (He remembered his late brother-in-law's voice echoing in his brain. Saying that, "It's no flu…") or they had simply been left for dead…
Chuck brushed a hand over his father's last invention—the Governor, which was strapped to his wrist. He was unfazed when Casey grinned devilishly and pulled out a pipe bomb from this belt pouch. It was just more senseless destruction in an already desolate world. What more harm could a little explosive do? There was nothing wrong with a Boom!
Was there?
His brain fought and waded through this difficult quandary that at some point was not even that hard of a decision. Chuck's wits returned with a vengeance and he blinked out of the daze. He lunged forward and ripped the cylinder from Casey's large hand and then shook it at him.
His voice was high and distressed. He yelped, "Do want to get us killed?"
Sarah's ears perked up. She twisted her body around to face the quarrelling men. The rifle was placed between her legs and both arms were hugging the long barrel like she was seeking comfort— warmth from it. A tear slipped from an eye and made a trail down her ashen complexion.
Chuck continued to yell in spite of himself. He was too angry to keep it under control. "You think that guy is insane? Look at you, Casey! Can you keep it together for one second? You have a daughter back at camp, I'd think you would want to actually be alive the next time you see her. Not in a body bag blown to kingdom come…" he panted.
The younger man's remark had Casey flinch. It was slight, but noticeable. He covered it up by snorting, "It's the apocalypse, Bartowski. The world has gone FUBAR and I doubt whether I'm alive or not makes even just a little significance."
FUBAR: Chuck did not need the Intersect's help to know what it meant. Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition, he mouthed it and looked away from the Colonel He needed a moment. Just one moment to breath, to catch a break. Tempers were flaring and it was hindering their chances of surviving the mission. But he was so god damn tired…
"Ding dong!"
"What now?" Sarah moaned. Chuck finally became aware of her weak attempts at concealing her tears. He felt a twisting sensation in his chest. His heart was aching. Somehow he felt like this was his entire fault.
The church man's voice had returned. He didn't sound too happy. Or stable for that matter. "I-I'm gonna ring this bell. I'm going to ring the bell, and," his breath quickened then choked back laughter, "they'll finish the job!"
No one really could understand what he was saying. Chuck was too engrossed with Sarah's sudden breakdown to remotely care. He just stared at her, at loss. He bent down to his knees and became level with her terrified gaze. Chuck then pushed her rifle to the side and collected her into his arms. Everything paused and the zombie apocalypse would have to wait.
"Shush, Sarah it's gonna be okay." He whispered softly. Her head disappeared into the crook of his neck and he began to pet her hair gently. He felt her shake when another sob wrecked through her body. Chuck kissed the top of her head, "Everything will be fine, trust me."
The back of his mind told him not to lie. It tugged on his conscious and forced him to remember that no one, especially Sarah, liked a liar. Chuck waved off the feeling from engulfing him whole. He did not need to be reminded of his shortcomings. He would deal with them later.
Chuck lifted his head to Casey. The NSA agent was staring at the two younger members with perplexed eyes. He had obviously never seen Walker lose it like this. But who could've known that zombies were the CIA blonde's worst fear? Who could've honestly guessed that she could not sit through five minutes of Shaun of the Dead, let alone actually live through a real zombie apocalypse? Casey sure couldn't. He was unsettled by this and completely disregarded the obscenities shouted by the man locked in the bunker.
He did, however, hear Bartowski mutter: "Please be strong for me, and Casey—all of us Sarah. I know this is your worst nightmare, and I know you're afraid. I—I just need you to please, please—"Chuck never got a chance to finish.
The church bell began to ring.
Chuck jolted. The trembling in his hands returned. They shook violently but soon quelled under the soothing touch of Sarah's fingers. He looked to see that she was rubbing his palms in circular motions; sheen of wetness glazing her eyes. But there was a smile forming at the edges of her lips. It spread a warm feeling inside his chest and he thought that maybe he got through to her.
He got his Sarah back.
"Hey you two!" Casey's voice startled Chuck back to the present. "I'm glad you got the chance to have a nice moment, but we got a big damn problem." He gripped the machine tighter to his chest, but his gaze was fixed to what lay beyond the window, in the field of graves.
Chuck met Sarah. She held a countenance brimming with determination. She asked. "Ready, Chuck?"
He used the underside of his thumb to brush away the tears from falling from her eyes. Their foreheads were barely touching and his fingers trailed down her cheek and then rested there. He smiled. It was soulful, heartfelt. She returned it.
"I was born ready," he replied.
Liar…
Sarah nodded and then made a quick grab for her gun. She took it and leapt to her feet, and the vulnerability was gone. With new confidence and resolve, she crept back to the wall and aimed the rifle.
How long this over-zealous version of Sarah would last, Chuck had no clue. He could only hope she could keep the façade in check until they were back at camp, safe and alive. Then they could breakdown together.
"Ding dong, ding dong! Dinner's served, come and get it!"
There was a dissonance of groans, screeches and growls echoing in the barren town. Sarah saw a small band of ailing humans clambering to the source of the noise; she squeezed the trigger multiple times and in quick succession, emptied her entire clip. She ended up taking out all seven of the hostiles. They had fallen like a line of dominoes, one by one.
"I can't wait to get my hands on this guy," she growled as she took the time to reload her weapon. Slamming the new cartridge in the appropriate place, she cocked it and then mumbled, "He's really beginning to piss me off."
Chuck raised his gun and took cover on the other end of the window. He heard the remark and his lips curved into a small smirk. It looked like Sarah was really back to herself and then some.
"I got the bell, you stay the hell out!"
A plethora of infected, zombie-like creatures were tumbling into view. It was then when Chuck's anxiety began to swell in his chest and that numb feeling he was getting so used to, receded like a wave. Now his breathing became fast and uneven and the urge to freak out was imminent.
Don't freak out…don't freak out….dammit, please don't freak out!
He hated hordes.
Sarah luckily however, had reverted back into the highly trained (not the mention deadly) operative Chuck had both feared and admired since he met her those years ago. Stoic and composed, her rifle was level and she resumed picking off the infected like a master marksman. It sent chills up his spine and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.
"This is my safe house!" the man was now roaring above the diseased humans.
Chuck took his eyes from Sarah and then let them slide closed. He squeezed them shut in attempt to rationalize what was happening around him. He was so fed up with the crazy guy. A part of him seriously just wanted to let Casey have his way and put the man out of his misery. He opened his eyes and looked to the Colonel himself, who was now by the window as well, clearly ready to tear someone's head off.
"He says one more word, and I'll stuff that bell up his ass!" Casey snarled vehemently.
"Better safe than sorry, better safe than sorry."
Casey's eye twitched. He put both hands in the air as a sign of surrender, letting his gun hang from the strap on his shoulder.
"I'm done. Give me back the pipe bomb, Bartowski."
He lasted longer than expected, Chuck thought. He fisted a hand in his bag where he had stashed the bomb. Somehow he knew he was going to regret this.
"I know I'm going to regret this," he vocalized and his shoulders slumped in some semblance of defeat. Casey eyed the bomb carefully, like a predator to its prey. Chuck sighed and added, "Just make sure not to get us blown up please."
Casey offered a curt nod. Chuck relinquished the explosive and the bigger man took it, grinned deviously, and then chucked it out of the broken window. Sarah dropped her rifle (the expression worn on her face nonplussed) and watched as a score of infected ran to the cylinder. It blinked red for a few long, agonizing seconds, beeping wildly. Then there was a monstrous blast which obliterated them into a heavy red mist.
Chuck blinked. The graveyard outside the church walls was now covered in blood, guts and other assorted appendages. He surveyed the gore for a moment longer, and his stomach churned. He faced a satisfied Casey. "Feel better now?"
"You said you were immune. You said you were immune! I-I trusted you! And you said you were-" the man howled.
"Great. Now he's even more hysterical than before." Chuck grimaced.
"Won't fool me twice," he cried. "I let him in and he said he was immune! He bit me, but said he was immune"
Chuck's jaw went slack. His brows furrowed as he listened intently. The man continued to ramble and Chuck finally understood. His eyes grew large and he glanced around the trashed hall: Was he the only one who just heard that?
Sarah was back to shooting once the red mist cleared. Casey had taken Chuck's old spot, mowing down anything that moved. Chuck stood there, frozen. He could hear the faint strangled growls and groans from within the safe room. Oh shit that's not good.
"It's been an hour? It must've been an hour? I must be immune!" The man's voice had become babble now. No one was paying attention, except for Chuck, "That's r-right! I'm immune! I must be immune!"
Chuck kept his gun firmly by his side, but slowly back from the window. He would let them take care of the mess outside. He had more important things to attend to. Straying towards the opposite end of the grand hall, he saw a glass incased Bible resting on a pew. Written hundreds of times were the phrase, "Better safe than sorry." It was in big red letters and repeated all over the pages. Chuck's blood ran cold as he read the insane jargon.
"Holy…shit," he said with a shortness of breath.
The gunfire ceased briefly. Sarah withdrew her sniper rifle (must've been out of ammo) and pulled out dual handguns. She fired a few more times, maybe just to keep the rest of the infected at bay, and then exchanged a quick nonverbal look with Casey. He nodded and she traipsed off next to Chuck. He was mesmerized by the bloody scripture; he pointed a finger to the single phrase. Sarah darted her eyes to it and her forehead creased into a deeply troubled expression.
She looked at the Bible for a second or so but her eyes drifted to Chuck. His large doe eyes were flickering side-to-side, reading the phrase again and again. Her mouth twisted into a concerned expression and she reached for his shirt, tugging on it so that he'd move away. He was reluctant to budge but eventually came to his senses. He spun around and met Sarah with a look she had trouble analyzing.
"What's wrong?" She asked him. It was a strange thing to say. There were hundreds of things wrong—with Chuck, with the situation, with just about everything. Why she asked this she didn't really know. It was pretty self-explanatory. She saw the bloody scripture. Her brain was going to be forever embedded with that stupid foreboding phrase—Better safe than sorry. What a stupid thing to write. Who would think to write do such a thing...?
"We need to get out of here," Chuck said in an oddly calm tone. His brown eyes were dark as they looked around, examining all that surrounded him. He did not convey it, but Sarah could see the fear materialize in his rich irises. It was there and it refused to leave.
She tried to be reassuring. Maybe she could trick the both of them into thinking things will get better. "We will. Once we get in the safe room, we'll sleep for the night and then find the next rendezvous point."
He shook his head, "No...There's something not right here." Chuck tilted his head and became fixed on the barred door. "There's nothing holy and safe about this church. There's something terrible in that room over there. I swear I heard…noises."
"We'll have Casey kill it then," Sarah said lightly. "I'm sure he'd want nothing more than to…"
"I just have a really bad feeling about this." Chuck interrupted suddenly.
"You always say that, Chuck."
At first he looked indignant but then his eyes waned and came off as haunted and afraid. He bowed his head into a feeble nod and he said dismissively. "You're right…"
Sarah intertwined her fingers with Chuck's and squeezed. His lips were pressed into a thin line and he was staring at her, still with that fearful expression. She knew now that it was her turn to comfort him. He had been so strong for these past months. Dealing first with the death of his father, followed by the outbreak which claimed Ellie's husband, Devon's life. Chuck wouldn't allow himself to break under the pressure, even when the others would, he wouldn't. He couldn't. Sarah respected that. She respected it so much because she couldn't hold it together. She was a spy, sure, but nothing could've prepared her for this.
"Of course I'm right," she joked. "And you'll see how right I am when we get back to base and you'll get to finally become an uncle."
A lopsided smile appeared on his worn features. It was hard to believe that he was going to be an uncle. "I'm going to be Uncle Chuck," he chuckled. He let his gun hang from its strap and he took Sarah's other hand. "And you're going to be Auntie Sarah."
"That's right," she reminded him. "And it's all going to happen once we get out of here."
Chuck nodded in agreement. He leaned forward, tilting his head slightly so that he could capture her lips in a slow tantalizing kiss. Sarah breathed him in and returned the kiss with vigor. They both knew that this was a mistake. They weren't supposed to compromise themselves during a rescue operation. But they needed this.
They needed human contact.
If for only a second it would do.
"Ding dong, ding dong!"
The bell tolled for a second time. Chuck parted from Sarah and they released each other's hands, letting them drop limply by their sides. Chuck's eyes narrowed when the second round of infected beings came sprinting towards the church. Sarah noticed his eyes taking on a glazed look, the side-effect of a flash. Once it ended, he blinked furiously. Without another word, he was up in arms and darted for the window. Sarah was not far behind.
"Here comes the horde," Casey bellowed above the constant shrieking.
Sarah clicked the safeties of her dual handguns off and once they were in view, she unloaded both rounds on the incoming infected. Casey stayed low, knocking down the front line of the common infected with ease. Chuck, who was not a fan of killing anything, was under the strong influence of the Intersect. He was stuck in tunnel-vision: fighting off the lethal, diseased beings. He dug into his bag and found a maltov. He quickly used a lighter (one he found off some poor man's body a few miles back) and lit the alcohol-drenched rag. He tossed it out of the window and the grass was lit aflame. It created a wall of fire, stopping the horde in their tracks; the stupider ones tried to run through it but ended up being engulfed in a ball of flames.
Chuck felt the heat of the fire radiate off his skin. Its bright glow facilitated the survivors' ability to see what they were aiming at. He lowered his gun and asked from the corner of his mouth, "There hasn't been many Hunters out there, has there?"
Sarah shook her head and reloaded her guns. "They're probably waiting in the forest for us. Y'know they like to stay inconspicuous."
"Smart bastards," growled Casey.
As if on cue, a loud terrifying shriek cut through the air. None of survivors moved; they collectively lowered their guns and stayed silent. Chuck looked to Sarah and Casey, expecting for them to distinguish the Hunter's location.
"It wants us to come outside," said Sarah. She appeared visibly shaken. If there was anything in this world that frightened her (save for zombies in general) it was these creatures: the Hunter.
Casey added, "I think it's on top of the church roof. If one of us takes the bait, it's perched up there, ready to pounce."
"How do we draw it out?" Chuck asked. The flash was beginning to fade from his brain. He felt the adrenaline dwindle away and he said tiredly. "Personally, I don't want one of us getting our insides torn apart. So let's think of something fast."
"Don't have that planned out yet," the NSA agent grunted. "You think of something, Intersect."
There was a loud banging on the metal clad door. Chuck whipped his head around and saw the door being dented from the inside. Claw marks indicated that the man behind the door was no longer human. The anxious feeling was coming back again, and it was a lot stronger than before. Just thinking about what lay beyond the door had him nauseous. He chewed on his lower lip in contemplation. He really, really, did not want to go in there.
But he didn't see any other options. So, like Casey had told him at least a hundred times: suck it up.
"The safe room," Chuck posed halfheartedly. He left the window and was briefly exposed to any attack. "Let's just get inside and wait it out."
Sarah was surprised that he'd suggest it. Chuck was the one who minutes ago rather die fighting than stay in there. She frowned and reminded him, "That's not an option. That idiot in there won't let us in."
Chuck ignored her. He instead walked up to the door. His fingers skimmed down the metal latch keeping it locked shut. The only way to open it was from the inside or the keypad. He was irritated that something so inconvenient was prohibiting their entrance. What if some random survivors elsewhere wanted somewhere to hide? How could they possibly get inside with a damn lock?
He clasped his hands together and examined the keypad. His sights focused on the ten digits, he forewarned Sarah and Casey. "Get ready to kill whatever is on the other side of that door." He cracked his fingers and smiled, "I'm going to break the code on the keypad and get us inside."
Casey looked at Sarah confusedly, then to Chuck. "Are you saying crazy guy is infected?"
"Yes."
Casey cocked his gun and smiled, "Thank God."
Sarah shook her head, dismissing Casey's jovial attitude. "Go ahead, Chuck."
He placed a hand on the keypad, concentrating on the numbers. He strained his eyes, digging around in the Intersect's files until his vision blurred and he flashed. A stream of coded numerals showed up in his line of sight and then quickly vanished.
Memorizing it, Chuck punched in the code verbatim. He quickly took a handgun he kept in his waistband and used the grip to smash the keypad until it was destroyed. He knew that two pairs of blue eyes were staring at him in shock. They didn't understand his rationale for breaking the keypad. Maybe he'll explain later.
If there was a later.
Chuck looked over his shoulder, "Ready?"
The two recovered at once. They both nodded curtly. He gave the thumbs up and hit enter. The door clicked and buzzed for the correct password. The metal shaft unhinged, leaving the door semi ajar.
Chuck cautiously approached the door, using a foot to edge it open. It was heavy, but with a good kick, it flung open. He, Sarah, and Casey all drew their weapons and entered the safe room.
Looking all around them, the survivors scanned the room for the missing church man. Chuck flicked his flashlight on, its light shining on a lifeless corpse at the opposite end of the room. Blood was pooled around it, Chuck blanched. He hated blood.
"Where the hell did he go?" Sarah questioned nervously. By the sound of her voice Chuck assumed that what they were looking for was hidden in the shadows, ready to attack. He gulped. He hated Hunters as much as she did.
"At least we know now he's not a Tank," Casey quipped humorlessly.
Chuck frowned, "There's just one body. It's probably the one that had bit him originally." He eyed the grey mottled skin and its dead yellow eyes, "It was definitely infected when it died."
He took a step closer to the infected man. He crouched low to the ground and aimed the flashlight to inspect further. Upon his examination, Chuck figured that it had been shot in the chest multiple times, along with a headshot that only skimmed its forehead, tearing the scalp off halfway.
Chuck sighed, taking a whiff of the corpse by accident. He held his nose, gagging. His eyes watered, its odor foul to the senses. He heard a faint chuckle behind him. He got to one knee and glared at Casey.
"Don't throw up on the M4 Carbine, Bartowski. It's still property of the US military."
Chuck covered up his mouth with both hands, letting out a muffled sarcastic laugh.
Casey grunted dismissively, leaving for the plastic table which had loads of weapons stacked upon it.
The nausea left Chuck once Sarah came up to him, offering him a hand. Her beautiful smile charmed his sickness away. He grinned and took her generous offer; she began to pull him up, but was interrupted by a loud piercing scream. Her hand slipped from his and Chuck slammed on the ground, his head splashing in the sticky red fluid.
"Gross! Blood, god, I hate blood!" Chuck whined.
Both Sarah and Casey drew their weapons in unison; their flashlights on as well. The room became completely illuminated, revealing everything to the naked eye. Still on his back, Chuck looked straight up, his eyes fixating on the metal staircase. A dark figure sat crouched in the shadows.
Chuck's eyes widened into saucers and he scrambled up to his feet. In his haste, he slipped in the bloody mess and fell back down. He went for his gun as fast as he could, but was stopped when the being pounced on top of him.
The Hunter had Chuck pinned down, and he was unable to twist out of its hold. Its empty holes which used to have eyes had him paralyzed. He found no strength to move and his thrashing ceased momentarily. It was enough time for the beast to sink its teeth into his neck. Chuck reacted at once. He arched his back and screamed at the top of his lungs. When its claws were unsheathed and about to dig into his chest, shots were fired and the Hunter went flying off his stomach and crashed into the wall.
Chuck's head rested on the bloody floor. It was now it was a mix of the infected and his own. He groaned, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to not cry. His chest heaved up and down, adrenaline flowing through him like fire. Chuck could feel the wound on his neck throb and ache; blood was gushing out.
He could barely make out what Sarah and Casey were saying. Vision blurred into crimson red and he felt weak and faint.
"Casey, grab the First-Aid!" Sarah yelled urgently.
She slid to her knees, splashing into the pool of blood. She ran her hands down Chuck's pale face, and down to see if he was injured anywhere else. Her eyes remained on the puncture wound on his neck.
Her head snapped around, "Casey, what's taking you so long? Hurry up!" Sarah's voice was strained and desperate. She was already forcing herself to stay composed.
This cannot be happening, she moaned in her head. God, why didn't I listen to him? I told him that everything was going to be ok! Chuck, no, he doesn't not deserve this….he needs to live. Please, live. He's going to be an uncle…he can't die.
Casey handed her the white box. She popped the top open and spilled out all the medical supplies. She set aside the bandages for later, but grabbed the bottle of disinfectant spray.
"How's he doing?" Casey asked in a hushed whisper. There were several life-and-death situations that invoked concern from John Casey. He tried most of the time to hide it because it was a sign of weakness. But this was Chuck. He was a friend now, a comrade. Actually he was much more than that. And since they shared this bond (Semper Fi) it was becoming a chore of Casey to stay his usually robust self.
If you die, Bartowski….I swear, Casey mentally warned the younger man.
Sarah's reply was overwrought with raw emotion. "H-he was bit. It's not life threatening…but—"
"Why would he get bit?" Casey fretted, "He's immune isn't he? Infected only bite the non-immune."
Sarah couldn't understand. Casey was right. Chuck was immune to the Green Flu. They all were. That's why they were still human. He couldn't be infected…that's just impossible. It's outrageous. It was one of her greatest fears.
She tried not to think about it: What could be worse than death? Infection? Becoming a carnivorous zombie that would rather kill and dismember the ones he loves? Oh, Chuck…
Her voice cracked as it was meant to stay professional. "John, can you please hold Chuck down? I need to sterilize the wound."
Casey sat beside her, nodding sagely. He grabbed Chuck's restless form by the arms, wedging one knee between his legs. Chuck struggled to move as he was in too much pain to sit still.
"Chuck, I'm trying to treat you ok?" Sarah told him calmly. "I'm going to spray you with disinfectant…it's going to hurt, but please bear with me."
Casey exchanged an anxious look with Sarah. He bowed his head, ready for her to act.
"Nod if you understand me, Chuck," she said after a pause.
Chuck's nose flared and he gasped for breath. He nodded rapidly, shaking in tandem.
"S-Sarah, just fucking do it already!" he wailed. "I'm kind of in a lot of pain here…."
"Do it Walker," Casey agreed.
She sighed and sprayed the bottle of disinfectant into the site of the wound. At first, the transparent fluid did nothing. Chuck was still in pain, but no more than he was before. Sarah sat the bottle down and looked through the First-Aid, searching for something to help ease his pain.
"There they are." She grabbed the bottle of pain reliever pills.
She closed the box and set it down. Unscrewing the bottle of pills, she read the instructions and emptied out four of the tablets. Getting up to her feet, Sarah went to the mini refrigerator and looked for something Chuck could drink.
"Oh, fuck!" Chuck screamed suddenly. "Oh fuck—fuck—fuck!" He thrashed back and forth, withering in pain. "My neck, shit, it hurts dammit—it fucking hurts!"
Casey was diligent and kept the younger man down. He eyed Sarah with a grim expression. She came back from the front of the safe room, pills and water in hand. She fell back to the floor, horrified at Chuck's condition.
"The wound is flaring up pretty badly," Casey informed her. "The disinfectant must be working."
At least something is going right, she thought.
Sarah placed the water bottle on the floor along with the four tablets. She ran a hand through Chuck's damp hair, resting her palm on his forehead. Since it was an infection, he was extremely feverish. Which was a good sign considering the actual virus made the host cold as ice.
Chuck moaned at her touch. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled when he looked into her worried gaze. "Thank you, Dr. Walker."
Casey grunted. "The kid's delusional."
Sarah managed to smile a little. She opened the water bottle, pouring some of the cool liquid into Chuck's parted mouth. He stopped resisting the pain and let it work its way out of his system. Sarah held out the pills in the palm of her hand. Chuck looked at them with relief; he took the pills and popped them in his mouth.
Swallowing with difficulty, Chuck coughed. Sarah gave him the remaining water. He guzzled it down, no longer complaining about the pain.
"Those were fast acting," Casey interjected with a half smile.
Without a response, Sarah reached for the medical tape, some wipes and a pair of scissors and started to dress Chuck's wound. He remained compliant; Casey let go of his hold on him and went to go get the three of them some food.
By the time Sarah had finished, Chuck's neck was covered with a large band-aid and then expertly wrapped with medical tape. She wiped her hands off on her already blood crusted pants. The pain pills given to Chuck had finally taken effect, rendering him fast asleep.
"Be okay, Chuck." She whispered under her breath. She watched him snore softly in his sleep. It was a routine act she usually took part in. Every night she'd sit in bed with him, just watching as he'd slip into unconsciousness. This was before the infection began. It was back when everything was relatively normal.
Back then, it was just an ordinary world.
Sarah found herself wanting that life back more and more each passing second. When she could no longer stand to look at Chuck's prone form, she rolled up to her feet and sauntered towards the tables. She sat down in a chair, not saying a word. She cupped her face in her hands, exhausted beyond anything she felt in her entire life.
"You really need to eat something," Casey broke the silence. He took a huge bite out of a healthy looking green apple. He chewed and then offered her one. Sarah dropped her hands to the tabletop, her blue eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying.
"I'm not hungry," she muttered.
"Hungry or not, you still need something in your stomach. You won't survive much longer if you don't."
Her eyes flashed, sending the large man a condemning look.
"Chuck is not going to be around much longer, so why should you care if I eat or not?" She bit back at him.
"Bartowski looks fine to me." Casey's eyes landed on Chuck's sleeping form.
"He was bit…he's going to get sick" replied Sarah sourly. She buried her head on the table to smother a sob. "And I couldn't prevent it from happening!"
"We fucked up," Casey corrected her.
"What?"
He took another bite from his apple, "Don't blame yourself, Walker, I mean Sarah. It's not your fault that he was attacked. I'm just as guilty as you are…maybe even more."
Combing her fingers through her tangled up hair, Sarah hiccupped. "We are Chuck's partners. We are a team and for the past three years, not a single person has been able to hurt us. We've slipped up once, let our guards down, and now he's going to have a worse fate than death."
Casey twirled the apple core around and then tossed it into the trash can. He wiped his mouth, too emotional to respond back. He grunted.
"Let's say he does get infected," he said softly. "What do we do with him?"
"We put him down," Sarah whispered. It was difficult to even think of such a scenario."What other choice do we have?"
"If we're quick enough, we can get Chuck to the military compound," he mused. "The scientists and doctors there could run tests on him, keep him safe and most importantly… alive. Maybe we can even find a cure because of him. The Blood Cure isn't looking to be a keeper so far, so maybe Bartowski's the key. He'll be the first to get the vaccination too."
Sarah was caught staring at Chuck. She was only partly listening to what Casey was saying. It was impossible to imagine what will become of Chuck in a short amount of time. She did not want to admit it but he'd be a monster.
He'll be a monster yes, but he's still Chuck. A disembodied voice said, He's your Chuck and always will be. Whatever happens to him you better suck it up and deal with the consequences. He would sure as hell do the same for you.
Sarah knew Chuck would do all he could to make sure she would survive the infection. So she had to be strong, for him. But she felt tears brimming in her eyes and they threatened to fall. She tore her gaze off of him and looked back to Casey.
"So that's our plan? Get Chuck somewhere safe where he won't harm anyone and use his body to find a cure?"
"You have a better idea?"
"No…"
"Then, yes, that's the plan."
Sarah rocked back in her chair, lost in thought. She didn't like the plan one bit but it was better than nothing. She just had to be patient. Everything would be ok. Sarah looked at the wall, seeing a clock hung up. It was just after ten in the evening.
"How long does it take for the infection to spread throughout the host's body?" she asked suddenly. She had always wondered what the incubation period was. She never was so interested before, not like Chuck…or Morgan for that matter. Being nerds, they had a weird fascination with the undead. It must've been from all those horror movies they've watched or the video games too.
Casey sighed. He informed her: "Anywhere from an hour to a day. So we're playing Russian roulette with time right now. We don't know how long Chuck will be able to fight it off."
There was a long pause.
"John?" Sarah started. Alex…?
"Hmm…?"
"Are we going to tell him?"
Tell him that he's going to become a monster.
Tell him that the chance of survival is minimal.
Tell him that he will lose his humanity.
Tell him that through all of this, I—we will still love him.
What will we tell him exactly?
Casey hesitated momentarily before answering. "Yes. It's something we can't keep from him. Chuck has to know."
Sarah began to feel numb all over. In a matter of hours, Chuck will no longer be…Chuck. He will be something else entirely. The only thought that ran through the solace of her mind was what she had told Chuck about him coming home safe so he could be with his sister and her newborn child.
"You're going to be an uncle."
She covered her mouth with one hand to prevent a sob from escaping her. Her eyes stung while hot tears poured down her cheeks. Chuck was lying in a pool of blood, his chest rising up and down. He looked so normal.
"I want to be the one who tells him," she spoke in a faint whisper.
Casey nodded glumly.
There were claws scratching against the walls. Animalistic howls pierced and echoed throughout the safe house. It petrified their hearts. They knew that time was running out.
And neither of them was going to sleep.
An: How was that? Good? Bad? Confusing? Enough with the rhetorical questions, I promise that things will make more sense soon enough. I'd advise readers that are not familiar with the Left 4 Dead franchise to wikipedi it and educated yourselves. It's pretty self-explanatory.
So what's gonna happen next? Are Sarah and Casey going to be able to save Chuck and take him back to the Base? Or will everything go straight to Hell? Dun dun dunnn!
Let me hear your thoughts!
R&R
