Chapter 1: the wrong foot.
All characters are property of Valve. I own nothing, not even anything remotely related to this great game.
a/n: I uploaded a .txt and all the punctuation marks went missing. Never bothered to check that :p sorry
Led by Nick, the group turned a corner on their way through the alley. That was when they heard the crying. Everyone took aim. They turned off their flash lights. The sound of their foot falls softened and died out.
"There she is…" Ellis whispered stepping past Rochelle, determined to not let her get in his way.
"'bout time I got even." He said stalking past Coach who tried to stop him, but avoided calling out once the boy was out of reach.
The southern youth, knees bent and lean muscles tense, was hell-bent on going through with it.
His gaze was fixed upon the form silhouetted by a distant street light, too far off to catch the usual glow of the eyes. She was sitting at the opening, blocking their way out of the alley. The other end was blocked by a horde of infected wedding guests.
She was close, but the weeping sounded so very far off - and just as sorrowful, like dark water streaming from the scar of a shadow. Liquid pain.
Other than Nick, who had pressed himself against the crumbly brick wall, there was only a sheet of rain between them.
She raised her head to look up at the sky pouring down upon her, rain mingling with her soft crying: Weep. Weep. Pitter-Patter. Patter-Pitter. Weep. Patter. Weep.
He narrowed his eyes to focus. Couldn't see her, but that wasn't necessary anyway.
He looked the stinging gash on his forearm. It had been from a previous witch encounter gone wrong – hence the enthusiasm.
Then he looked back up at the witch, taking careful aim at her head.
He put his finger on the trigger. Real slow… careful…
This had to be perfect, a one shoot ka-bam.
He prepared. Prepared to pull. And then –
"Would ya hurry up!!?" Nick's strained whisper came quick and rapid.
Ellis flinched.
BANG!
…a miss. And a scream.
The bullet had announced itself in a not-so-glorious burst at her shoulder. It splattered just a little.
The group was in pre-panic shock. All breaths held.
Then, out of her shadow-shrouded form came: a gunshot. It came quick enough, with a bullet that smacked the alley wall in an angry boom. Brick matter shattered like crystallized gore, near Ellis' head.
"oohholycrap!" Ellis staggered back to make a run for it, but so did Nick, and the narrow space didn't make for an easy retreat.
Rochelle and Coach were already further down. Apparently they made a run for it as soon as Nick's impatience startled Ellis enough to miss her, almost completely.
"'the hell was that?" Coach called inching forward, SMG in hand.
After a hasty struggle with Nick, Ellis squeezed past him and they both ran up to and past, the others, stopping a few feet deeper into the alley.
Rochelle looked for any signs of pursuit. "did you get her?"
The two said nothing. Nick was now glaring at Ellis while muttering in disgust.
"Well, answer the woman, you get her or not!?
"I…"Ellis said catching his breath. He wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand.
"sh-she shot at us."
"what!?" Rochelle looked concerned, more so for Ellis' mental health. "…she shot at you?"
"Kid, they can't shoot!" Coach said.
"Sweetie – no, look at me. Look here!"
Ellis looked at her though his ears were still ringing. It had been a close call.
"Are you sure, she shot at you?" Rochelle said slowly – each word like a sentence.
"Sure as this freakn' apocalypse itself!" Nick added, turning his glare to the opening where the witch had been.
"But" Ellis managed. "Witches don't shoot back." All of a sudden even he doubted what he himself had narrowly escaped.
Everyone was looking at him now. "What? They don't!"
"Then what was…?" Coach pondered out loud.
In a spell of silence a soft moan made itself heard despite the gush of rain.
"…oh shit!" Rochelle, in sudden understanding, sped across the alley to where the 'witch' had been.
There was no one there. She mumbled something involving men, shit and brains. Then stepped onto the street.
She looked both ways and then heard heavy breathing. Then, with mixed emotions, found her there:
On the pavement, among the splattering raindrops and puddles of grey sky, she sat huddled. She looked human. Healthy human; cradling herself against the wall - thighs pressed to chest, arms around her legs, bent knee-up. One hand held her shoulder, the other: a colt anaconda.
Her dark shoulder-length hair fell over the side of her face and clung to the back of her neck, soaked. Her eyes studied Rochelle's and a whimper escaped her rain-glossed lips.
Ellis caught up to them. His confusion turned into guilt.
The others joined them soon. The girl looked uneasy.
Coach was the last to arrive, but the first to say it out loud:
"a survivor…"
"What's your name, honey?" Rochelle asked, crouching down beside her.
"…Zoey"