Don't wanna bore you with some length introduction, so I'll keep it brief. It's just me writing, and fixing errors. Give me a bit, and pointing them out is immensely helpful. This will have Zellis, as a sort of main idea, but certainly not the focus on the story. I do hope you enjoy this, I did bring my characters from my popular story, "Crash Course" which you should check out if you enjoy this, if want to read about more action. If you want more of the Zoey in her thoughts, then Afterlife is for you. Other than that, thanks for reading.
PepoClap (Just noticed this is a sorta long intro. Oh well.)
Zoey dropped her M1911 onto the table, letting it sound out in the quiet room. She sat down onto the soft armchair. She hated being left behind. Being a skilled marksman was supposed to be a blessing. To allow you to support your team. What did it earn her?
Guard duty. She had Louis to switch with, but she didn't feel right. Something was off, the joining of both groups of survivors may have increased their manpower. Maybe even made her feel a tiny bit better, but something was off. So many emotions flowing through her body, messing with her mind.
If only Bill was here. Right? She nodded off to the beige wall in front of her. The textured wall seemed to shapeshift before her eyes, and the face of her leader formed. She gripped her track jacket. The red cloth, stained with blood, covered in grime and dirt. Slathered in sweat. Held something else. Not her petite body, not her white undershirt. Bill's beret. The very beret that was burning against her abdomen, as if to say, "Release me."
Bill never liked to be cooped up, staying in one place for longer than was necessary. So she supposed it was right that the hat he donned possessed the same characteristics. Crazy talk, Zoey. Focus, he's gone. He's dead, and there's nothing you can do to bring him back.
She let out a light laugh, "And let him be forgotten? Like my mother? What color was her face, before she died?" Her head throbbed, the other voice in her head throwing the white flag.
She tucked her legs closer to her, and let her head rest on her knees. Voices, this time, not belonging to her pierced the silence. Several thuds to her right sounded out, and the familiar voice belonging to her happy-go-lucky friend. "Zoey! Your boyfriend is back!"
She smirked against her knees, her teeth brushing against her jeans, probably staining themselves in drops of blood or… god. What was in her clothing at this point? That made her internally shudder. Her teeth went back into the safety of her mouth.
The door to the safehouse swung open, and the voices of her comrades filled the silent house. Different accents, different tones, and… Laughter?
Her body took hold, shoving her numb mind to the side. Her slender legs slid off the seat and touched the hardwood floor. Probably beautiful back before the apocalypse, a pride of someone. The grey, exotic look must've cost a fortune.
Her legs made their way past the excited Louis, who was limping around. Happiness shown on his features. Wouldn't surprise me if he asks if they brought him a toy either.
Her eyes scanned the small amassment of people. Coach, their unofficial leader was standing off to the side, next to Nick. Both had smiles, something she shook her head at. Bill's dead and these motherfucker's are smiling from ear to ear?
But she couldn't stop looking. Nick, the snarky con-man was without his suit. Instead he had a white button up shirt, similar to Louis' shirt. Minus the fact that this one was actually a pearl white, whereas Louis had on a grey one, with streaks of blood and bile. Nonetheless he also had a tie, blood red in color with a black pair of jeans. She couldn't help but thank any holy entity for getting rid of his disgusting suit. But she doubted his shirt would fair better. Still, it was better than always gazing at his blood and turd stained suit jacket.
Coach had found a plain green polo, and a pair of blue jeans. She didn't mind the appearance of anyone anymore. She wasn't any better. But she was intrigued by their bags. For where she was standing, they were filled to the brim and her back ached just thinking of them. Coach, shifted and sat down next to Nick at the bar.
Her mind snapped out of her thoughts. What was she doing? Her eyes scanned the filled room, looking for her favorite survivor. Her eyes scanned the tops of each one of their heads, before finding the familiar trucker cap.
Ellis seemed to be radiating energy, and Zoey was compelled. Her sore feet stepped forward, walking towards the, no, her Mechanic.
Her eyes glanced at his navy shirt, his toned arms. His tan... Her heartbeat quickened. What are you doing? Just go talk to your friend. Don't think about anything else. She shoved any feelings to the side and plopped herself in the seat next to Ellis. Who just set down his backpack, and was checking his rifle.
He turned to see who sat next to him, and the smile when his eyes caught the figure of his angel was just so damn magical. Zoey couldn't help but beam back at him. He was so infectious. So damn happy, so comforting it made her feel anxiousness washed away, and spilt on the floor. Outta sight, out of mind.
"How are you doin' Zo'? Wanna see what goodies I just got?" The southerner's voice filled her ears like some sort of magical melody. Slowly melting away at her heart. What the fuck is going on? A look at Ellis and you get all squishy, do you even miss Bill?
That hurt, the other voice chidding her for her feelings. Maybe she just wanted to be happy, for once. Just wanted to feel alright. Even if it was only for several minutes.
A hands grasped hers, the coarse fingers covering her miniscule ones. "You here with me Zoey? What's wrong?" Her eyes gazed into the brown eyes, her breath hitched. "Nothing, nothing. Just thinking how lucky I am to meet you guys."
Ellis seemed pleased by this answer, his mouth edging upwards into one of those grins that made her heart skip a beat. When did I become the awkward, stuttering one? And when did Ellis become so confident? And so, loveable? Yes. Loveable.
She nudged him, "What'd you get? Find me a Desert Eagle?"
The mechanic shook his head, "Something even better, but don't tell anyone okay? Because if Coach finds out, well. He's gonna be pissed."
He quickly pulled out two chocolate bars. King Sized, Kit-Kat Bars. Something she hadn't had since the outbreak. All the food she had since then was drab, tasteless and disgusting. Some days she'd get a hint of flavor, but ever since their stock of hot sauce ran out, nothing ever tasted like anything anymore. But chocolate. God her stomach hurt thinking about it.
She smiled, and gripped Ellis' chin, and pressed kiss to his cheek, her fingers gently caressing his features. When she pulled away, she saw his face turn blood red. "Sh- It's no-nothing. Zo', I'd." He took a quick breath, bringing his hand to rub his left hand against where she placed a cheek on him moments ago. "I was wondering if you want to go on the balcony. Just me and you."
That caught Zoey off balance. They were in a void, not really belonging to a label. Friends sure, but Zoey wanted more than that. Sometimes, she could tell Ellis wanted that too. They were just so awkward, yet so close. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Stay in the moment. Just enjoy it. She gripped his right hand, "Definitely."
Her body was high off of the energy that Ellis and the chocolate had provided. Creating a drug that Zoey couldn't get enough of. The air was cold, yet she hadn't thought to think of bringing her track jacket. Ellis, seemed to unconsciously taken notice, and had wrapped an arm around her. Bringing her closer towards his chest, the heat warming her body, but also making her blood rise to her cheeks.
Still, despite the slight tense filled air, it was peaceful. With just the two of them to provide each other with company. She drunk in the scent of him, and allowed herself to relax. To wind down, to let her guard fall to the floor.
As they sat there in silence, something else wormed itself into the atmosphere. Her abdomen tightened, waiting for the danger lurking around the corner to attack her. But noth-
A blast rang out, causing Zoey to stand upright. Shock taking seize of her body parts. The sonic boom still replayed in her ears, and in her mind. The images in her head painting the grey canvas in front of her. Then her eyes saw the red slice pass the roofs of the buildings, with smoke rising shortly after.
Ellis stood beside her, "OH FUCK! HORDE!" His arm was outstretched, pointing at the mass of bodies flooding the street like a flood. Ellis pulled up his M14, hand gripping the foreguard, finger in the trigger guard, ready to pull the small metal, unleashing a 7.62 bullet into a head of a unlucky zombie.
But they didn't move towards the living and breathing safehouse filled with survivors. Instead, the lifeless corpses shambled towards the explosion site. Zoey had regained her senses and tugged Ellis into the house. Shutting the door behind them.
They spared a single glance at each other before nodding in unison. "Survivors."
Alex groaned, his bones screaming against the rest of his body. They were sore, but not fractured. He slide to his side, reaching for the door of the Humvee. When his eyes glanced at where the door was, he was met with cold air. He quickly scrambled out of the destroyed armored vehicle.
He dropped to his knees, catching his breath, and patting his body. Desperately hoping he had some sort of supplies. Where is everyone? He realized he was zoning in and out, the ringing still going off in his ears. He took a deep breath, and the color and sound returned to the world.
He could hear shooting, bullets whizzing around, embedding themselves in… god. I am so disoriented. He shook his head, the sharpness returning to his world. "Christ, you look shell-shocked for a couple of moments there. With me?"
Alex nodded, and turned to his wife who tossed him his M16A4 MWS. The weapon donned a jet black Vertical Grip, encased in rubber. A Laser Sight mounted on the side rail spewing out green light. And finally a EOTECH 512 Holographic Sight with a Magnifier, mounted on the side.
He gripped the pistol grip and stuck out his hand, his fireteam partner tossing him a STANAG 5.56 magazine. He slid it in with precision, and peeked past the crash, and onto the road. A horde of shambling walkers was stumbling forward making their way towards them. He clicked his gun of 'Safety' and onto burst.
He gripped the foregrip, and muttered out. "And to think I was hungry a few minutes ago." Before he squeezed the trigger, taking down four in two bursts. He turned to his side, to see the rest of his squad firing away.
He grinned, and they all tore apart the moving target practice. He ejected his empty mag, and reached inside of the Humvee, gripping his field pack, and pulling it out of the deformed personnel carrier. He slung the rucksack onto his back, and reached for the rest of his equipment, pulling out his M1911 and M9, sliding them into their holsters.
His gloved fingers grazed the UMP45, and pulled his CQB sidearm, and strapped it to his side. He pulled his M16A4 back up, placing it on the top of the Humvee, using it as a support and started firing off bursts.
Despite the fact that they were painting the streets red, more of them kept coming. A cough pierced his thoughts, and a hacking came from somewhere above him. This time a scream came from someone he knew. He turned and looked to his right, confusion painting his face.
Butch was getting pulled upwards, where a deformed zombie with a extremely ropelike tongue was wrapped around his Support. He turned, but he was already beat to it. Jayden had whipped around and fired his FN SCAR-H into the head of the monster. Butch fell a short drop, but landed on his feet and caught his breath.
Then, the reason they had called a artillery strike had presented itself again. A huge hulking monster of what seemed to be pure muscle swung it's almost comically oversized arms in a show of strength. Turning it's friendlies to mounds of flesh, but by the deep screech he let out. Alex had no doubt in his mind that it was gonna fuck him up.
He quickly turned. "Butch, Butch! See if the M2 still works, or find some explosives!" Alex screamed out, his voice shaking the air around them. He fired his 5.56 rifle into the body of the Tank, but the bullets simply annoyed it.
He grunted in annoyance. "Fuck! Bu-" He was forced to duck, as the Tank had decided to play Baseball using a car with the small Marines. The red Honda flew past him, and slammed into a storefront. The glass shattering everywhere, with brick fragments soon following suit. He hit the floor, and could feel the bits and pieces of the store hit the metal of the Humvee, and his body armor.
He turned around, and screamed, "God damn it! We need that M2 to work!" The last part of his sentence was drowned out by the deafening spray of .50 cal bullets slamming themselves at a incredibly fast velocity into the walking steroid advertisement.
He gripped his rifle, and peeked over his cover, and the huge body hit the floor, shaking the road like a small earthquake. He sighed. "Everyone alright? Doc'll help you."
Everyone shook their heads. He groaned, "Damn, what's next? Jay, lemme see your radio, let's try and get some objectives."
Sarah brushed passed him, reaching into their crushed vehicle, and lifted her supplies out. She tossed him a M40 Gas Mask, which he caught with minimal effort. He muttered out, "Comms on, and when I better not see anyone take my squad tag. I swear to god, next person who takes 'Michael Scott' will be laying in a shallow grave."
Butch let out a laugh and sat on the roof of the caved in squad car. "Christ. World's really gone to hell ain't it?" He gripped his M416 and double checked his magazine before he slid it back in.
Jayden was fiddling with his sensor system on his left wrist. "I don't understand, uninfected seems to be moving towards us, but who in their right mind would be coming towards us?"
As if they were running on a script, those same survivors turned the corner, clothed in what looked to be a civilian's attempt at a tactical look. Jayden had to admit, that tattooed survivor looked pretty cool.
They all raised their rifles. Jayden with his FN SCAR, Butch with his M416, Alex with his M16A4, and Sarah with her M4A1 Carbine. They aimed at the far less equipped group of survivors.
Nick held a AK-47 which looked like it served back in the Cold War, complete with scratches and dirt. Alex could swear he could see a sickle and hammer etched onto the stock. Nonetheless, Rochelle held a Glock 18 and a Machete, Coach gripped a M1014 and Ellis held up the most effective gun of those four. A M16A1, a relic, but still a hard hitting gun. Two more people turned the corner, providing support to their fellow survivors.
Zoey stepped towards Ellis, in her hands dual M1911s. Francis had a Mac-10 with a makeshift silencer hastily strapped onto the muzzle. Louis, the one who walked with a limp, had a Winchester 1987. Though, to Alex, it looked like he used it more as a crutch than as a weapon.
Alex shouted towards them. "Mind giving us a spot out of here? Can't spend the entire night inside of our finished vehicle."
The group in front of the Marines erupted into a volatile argument, which despite the loudness of their voices, only lasted a few minutes before their leader had decided their course of action. "As long as you mind helping us out, our doors are open."
Alex had nodded in silent acknowledgement. Slowly, the Eighteen Division Marines crept forwards. They had two squads, and they had lost contact with their sister squad during the danger close artillery strike. Alex had slung his rifle over his shoulder and shook Coach's hand.
Alex's voice pierced the cold of air of September, entering the ears of the 11 survivors."God I hope you guys have chocolate."
Maybe not the best ending, but something I did have fun writing about. If you are from my other fics, don't worry, updates will be coming soon. High School is just swamping me right now. If not, a chapter for this will be coming next week. I think.
If you want to know some basics about my world of L4D, there are some mods that you should know, and that I play with. My squad of marines use the "US Army Rangers" mod, which are the models of the US Faction in MW2.
As for the L4D survivors, they are basically just using the Division mod collection, so use that if you are trying to think of how each and everyone looks like.
As for the guns, well. They are real guns. Search 'em up, especially that M16A4, what a beauty.
Until next time, PepoClap
PS. Any grammar is going to be fixed soon. I'll keep checking and updating this fic, so in about two days this first chapter should be good. Cya. R&R.