They Left Four Dying - Previews

There was something wrong.

To state that something was "wrong" in the midst of the hell that had rained upon their little mountain town within 72 hours was moot, but the anomaly amidst the chaos in front of them stood out glaringly in Stan's sharp eyes. As he lowered his assault rifle to better identify the fresh new challenger that stood on the roof of the building a short distance away from them, a strong sense of trepidation arose in the depths of the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"OI! STAN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"

The violent shout shook Stan out of his dumbfounded analysis. Cartman didn't pause his unbroken bursts of shotgun rounds despite his angry outburst, his trigger-happy fingers beating out slugs at the horde of infected at a constant, vehement rhythm. Standing directly behind him was Kenny, the hood of his orange parka off his head as he wielded the sniper rifle like he was born to brandish the weapon, firing alarmingly accurate shots and blowing up heads inthe seemingly endless horde that ran towards the group. Finally, there was Kyle. Sweet, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly Kyle who gripped on tightly to a duo of Glock pistols, a mortified look plastered on his face as though the pistols were burning his skin. He winced every time he saw one of the infected falling at his hands.

There didn't seem to be anyone else still alive in the whole of South Park.

Realising that a couple of infected were getting alarmingly close, Stan growled as he shoved the rifle outwards, pushing a group of three infected that had reached his front to the ground. Finishing two off with a shower of rounds, he drove his rifle butt downwards into the skull of the third, a satisfying squelch filling the air as the zombie's corrupted brains collapsed inwards.

Just as Stan was about to look upwards for the unknown infected again, something happened that made his blood run cold with fear and alarm.

The unusual zombie opened its mouth and whipped out a tongue that seemed far too long to fit in its mouth in the direction of the group of four. The fifth appendage traveled at such an alarming speed that Stan didn't have any time to react, the course of action hindered further by the absurdity of the zombie's attack. The tongue hit its mark and rapidly moved like a snake, wrapping around its target's torso and ensnarling his arms.

As his pistols fell from his now useless hands, Kyle screamed bloody murder as the zombie retracted its tongue, dragging him against the hard ground in its direction.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Stan's eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

"Shit! Kyle!"

Making a mad dash away from Cartman and Kenny, who were still fending off the horde of infected, Stan simultaneously raised his rifle in the direction of the mutated zombie, ready to put it out like a light. As he pushed firmly against the trigger, he heard a hollow 'click', the empty rifle's chamber echoing with morbid finality.

"Fuck…FUCK!"

The tongue was dragging Kyle away at a speed that was frighteningly fast, Stan's movement also hindered by the abundance of corpses strewn at his feet. Willing himself to run faster, Stan watched in horror as his super best friend arrived at the side of the building, the tongue now pressed against the edge of the roof and bent at a right angle. The zombie appeared to be trying to pull Kyle up the side of the building, but was failing in its attempt. Instead, Kyle was finding himself suspended in mid air, struggling to free himself from the appendage and finding it intensely difficult to breathe as the pressure of the tongue against his torso increased.

He looked at Stan with fearful eyes and choked out a plea.

"Stan…help…"

There was no way in hell Stan was going to let his super best friend die in front of his eyes.

Snatching the machete that he had picked up earlier and had strapped to his side, Stan picked up his pace and finally arrived at the side of the building, nearly tripping on his own feet. He then swiped the blade in a single arc above Kyle's head, the tongue giving way and sending Kyle crashing into the ground writhing in pain and shock.

A loud bang filled the air. The zombie then seemingly exploded in a puff of greenish smoke, leaving behind no corpse to be examined.

"What the fuck was that?"

Turning around, Stan's eyes met Cartman and Kenny, who had finished fighting off the attacking horde and were jogging in their direction. Kenny's sniper rifle was still smoking, and from the contented look on his face Stan could tell that his parka-clad friend was the one who had expertly killed the monster. Cartman was looking a tad out of breath after the attack, and his ammunition pouch looked significantly lighter than it had been before.

"No idea. Some kind of…mutant zombie."

"Great. Just…great."

Cartman then roughly prodded the shuddering heap at Stan's feet with the barrel of his shotgun. Kyle flinched at the sudden coolness of the barrel against his arm.

"Oi…what's up with jewboy?"

Stan blanched as he remembered that his friend had nearly just been suffocated. Kneeling down, Stan made quick work of unwrapping the severed tongue from Kyle's torso, trying his best to keep down his dinner as his hands made contact with the slimy chuck of muscle. Tossing the useless hunk of meat aside, he then tucked his arms under Kyle's armpits and gently hoisted him to his feet.

"Kyle…talk to me, man."

Kyle's face was deathly white and drenched in cold sweat. He attempted to respond to Stan, but only succeeded in a few incoherent mumbles, still obviously traumatised by the events that had occurred. Cartman grunted in impatience before stepping forward. Extending his palm, he made a motion that implied an incoming slap to Kyle's face, only to watch his favourite jew recoil and cower at his action, nearly collapsing back onto the ground if Stan had not been holding him from behind.

Cartman ignored the fiery glare that Stan was throwing in his direction and settled with walking back in the direction from which he had come.

"He's fine. He doesn't have a choice, anyway. We have to move."

As the four picked up the items they had dropped in their earlier skirmish, Kyle kept close to Stan, a decision that the latter observed and supported. He had always been protective of his super best friend.

Kyle picked up his pistols and wiped them off on his jacket before sheathing them.

"I really hate zombies."

"See that zombie in front of us?"

Kyle stared out of the window of the safehouse in the direction of Kenny's finger and nodded. The lone zombie was leaning against a wall motionlessly. With the apparent lack of fresh flesh and the silence of the mountain, there appeared to be very little reason for it to waste its precious energy on movement.

"Excellent. Now, take this."

Before he could protest, Kenny had shoved his hunting rifle into Kyle's unwilling hands. As Kyle shook his head vehemently, Kenny couldn't help but sigh.

"You've already killed so many, Kyle. I even saw you tear a pouncing one off Stan with your bare hands before bashing its brains out against a wall. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal, Kenny, is that I killed those out of necessity! They attacked us first, so I fought back! In case you've forgotten, Kenny, these...things that wander about aimlessly used to be like us!"

Swearing under his breath for letting his emotions get out of control, Kyle turned away from his friend to hide the tears that were pooling in his eyes. The events of the past few days had left Kyle Broflovski's mind an empty, emotionless shell. As his emotions bubbled to the surface for the first time since the start of the infection, Kenny couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried for Kyle's mental health, and he knew that a good cry could do wonders for a disturbed mind.

Gently taking the rifle from Kyle's trembling hands and resting its muzzle against the wall, Kenny then enveloped Kyle in his arms and pulled him closer against his chest. Gasping in surprise, Kyle looked up from his taller friend's orange parka into his clear blue eyes.

Kenny didn't need words to convey his message. His eyes did the talking for him.

For the first time in a long time, Kyle cried like a baby.

"Fuck...that wailing."

Stan cringed at Cartman's warning. His ears were picking up the confirmatory sound, and despite the fact that they hadn't seen any infected for a while, he knew that something absolutely terrible was coming up ahead. As the eerie and familiar cries filled the night air like a twisted siren song, Stan tightened his grip on his weapon and visually scanned the area.

The fog wasn't helping.

Kyle rested a hand on Stan's shoulder before looking back and forth between his three friends, an expression of resolution on his face.

"Let's not make the same mistake as the last time, guys. Flashlights off."

Grunting in affirmation, Cartman shut off the flashlight that he had taped to his shotgun. Kenny and Stan were quick to follow.

There was only one direction where they could navigate their way to the gas station in relative safety, and the guys were still inclined to take the shortest path. As opposed to walking along the road, Kenny had earlier suggested cutting through houses in a linear fashion, where they could scour for any supplies and weapons left behind by the dead. His idea had thus far been beneficial in that aspect, with the four finding fresh batches of ammunition and rations that would help them survive longer in the hostile environment.

Now, with the sound of the witch's cry ringing in the air, fresh doubts were planted in their heads.

Taking the lead, Cartman walked up the steps to the house directly in front of them as gently as his large mass could. Resting his hand on the doorknob, he looked back at his friends tentatively.

"You guys ready for this?"

For the first time, even Kenny looked afraid of what they might potentially face. Stan looked equally terrified. He had been the witch's first target during the last attack, after all, and he didn't want a repeat of those past events. Kyle, however, looked practically emotionless as he clutched his pistol and his molotov cocktail, a concoction that he had made out of a glass bottle, kerosene and an impromptu wick in the last house that they had been in.

"Ready as we'll ever be, I suppose."

Cartman gritted his teeth in anticipation.

"Alright, jewboy. Whatever you say."

As the door was slowly pushed open, Cartman couldn't help but notice that the wailing appeared to be getting louder. Squinting his eyes in the darkness, he took his first step into the house and whispered under his breath.

"I can hardly see a shit. You guys?"

"We're probably as blind as you are, Cartman."

"Stupid witch. Why couldn't she be startled by like...chocolate instead of light and sound?"

Satisfied by Stan's nervous chuckle from behind him, Cartman took a few more tentative steps in the house, allowing the trio more room to step inside. Nearly all of the light in the room was instantly extinguished the moment Kyle shut the front door, leaving everybody only about 3 feet of effective visual distance.

"I think we'd rather tread a little more carefully around this place rather than risk a horde storming in through the door, don't you think?"

As much as Cartman hated to admit it, the jew was right.

The guys slowly made their way up the stairs, Cartman taking the lead as usual, and Stan keeping his back to the group to fend off any potential attackers from behind. As the group neared a closed door, Cartman placed a finger on his lips to signal for absolute silence. Taking a deep breath, he turned the doorknob and pushed.

The witch, the female zombie with elongated fingers that were somewhat mutated into veritable claws, sat on the ground facing the window, which was wide open and provided a beam of moonlight that cast the witch in an eerie spotlight. The zombie was looking down at the ground, continuously weeping as if it had more to be sad about than the healthy that her fellow kind liked to hunt.

The moment Cartman spotted the she-devil, he reflexively raised his shotgun in the witch's direction, ready to fight. The only things that stopped him from firing instinctively was Kenny's anxious hand on his shotgun barrel, and Kyle's simultaneously terrified and furious demeanor as the shorter boy smacked him on the head and mouthed angry words to his arch nemesis.

Don't even fucking try.

Kyle placed his hand on Cartman's upper arm and turned his head to signal to Stan to step backwards. As the group slowly made its way back into the corridor with extreme caution, the unthinkable happened.

Cartman stepped on a particularly weak floorboard. The creak sounded like it could have been heard from the adjacent house. The four gasped inwardly and froze, shooting their gazes in the direction of the witch.

She didn't appear to have heard them, her unbroken cries still piercing into the night.

Thanking his good fortunes, Cartman took a large step backwards, anxious to get out of the room as quickly as possible. He didn't realise that Kenny had yet to move himself.

As the larger boy bumped heavily into the smaller one, Kenny lost his balance and started a one-way collision course towards the floor. Stan, his sharp reflexes coming into play, stuck his arm out and wrapped it around Kenny's chest to halt his movement. Unexpected to everyone, however, was the continued movement of Kenny's sniper rifle as it slipped out his grip.

Their lives instantly flashed before their eyes as they watched the weapon fall, gravity pulling it mercilessly downwards.

The sniper rifle hit the ground, discharging a round harmlessly through the wall next to them. The greater concern, however, was the explosion of sound that followed the stray bullet, which, while usually already loud enough to wake a deep sleeper, seemed amplified by the enclosed walls of the suburban home.

The growl from the witch's throat was instantly recognizable.

She was angry.

A blood curdling shriek filled the air as the witch threw her head to the ceiling and wailed in fury. As she rapidly got to her feet and extended her lethal claws, Cartman felt his blood run cold.

"Holy fuck...RUN LIKE HELL!"

Author's Note - This is a preview of my play on a left4dead and South Park crossover. I've always wondered how the four boys would interact in a zombie apocalypse situation, and thought I'd give my own spin on it. Depending on the response I get for these previews I'll decide whether or not I'll give a full story a try.

Reviews appreciated.