All characters are property of their rightful owners. You know who you are. Left 4 Dead is property of Valve and Steam.
Rated T and only T because I know for a fact that you're going to read it anyway.
A/R: You know how whenever you play L4D, you always see half eaten carcasses littering the floor, but in the game, the infected don't even bite you? This is my explanation as to how this happens. It is not a new idea. Some of you told me it's so old I shouldn't even put it in here. I did it anyway.
A/R2: "See That one Coming?" is a game the survivors have invented to keep themselves amused, and also to heighten their senses. You never know what's coming for you…
A/R3: Infected are normal L4D infected, and Zombies are, of course, traditional zombies. The kind you shoot in the head.
"The Wizards of Blow it out Your Ass!" Alan, Two and a Half Men
(~**^^Left4Dead^^**~)
Jack ran down the dirt road, sweating vigorously. He stopped briefly next to a tree, not daring to hold off any longer. He was in a dimly lit patch of woods, with the ever-present morning mist swirling around the trees. Dew had covered everything from the needles on the pine trees to the combat jacket on Jack's shoulders, his only protection against the cold besides a thin cotton t-shirt that had gone from white to a slight gray within a week. Over the course of the long hours Jack had been awake, which was a long, long time, he had accumulated problems.
This was not a problem.
It was a big mistake.
Jack took off again, never looking back but always keeping an eye out for the danger that pursued him, growing dangerously close. His sweat and mist covered Ray-Bans obscured his vision. He ripped them off and, along with his black derby, flung them into the trees, never once stopping. He turned towards his destination, a small wooden cabin that had been heavily barricaded. It could easily hold about 20 people. Other than the barricades, it was almost unnoticeable, if not for the large red door with a white arrow pointing towards it.
Jack pumped his legs, trying to go as fast as possible, before the danger caught up with him. For now, it was so close behind, one of the mass swiped out a clawed hand and caught Jack in the shoulder. He grimaced and focused on the red door which had now opened slightly, enough for him to get in. Jack took one last step and dived through the door just as it was slammed closed.
Jack coughed twice, standing up shakily. Ace helped him to his feet. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to go out and do that, especially after what happened last time." Jack had his hands on his knees, and he was breathing heavily. "A little… bit of both," he chuckled in between breaths. Sckuyler tossed him his M4. "Lost the SPAS, huh? Figures." Jack rolled his eyes at her and slung his weapon over a chair before sitting down in it and saying, "Alright, how'd the search do?"
"Well, as per usual, you were the last one back. We didn't do too bad this time, though. Seven med kits, twelve bottles of pills, nineteen adrenaline shots, and about fourteen and a half cans of baked beans."
"And a half?" Ace smiled and tossed Jack the can which, of course, had been slashed in half. Jack shrugged and set the piece of tin down on the table. "Any weapons?"
"Nothing except for a small chrome shotgun. Not a lot of ammo, though. A few bandoliers of shells, some 5.56 ammo, .308 bullets, 45ACP rounds, some regular 45 auto rounds, two gun belts for the 50 cal, we can use that for the 50 cal sniper, and a whole lot of 9mm rounds." Jack pulled out his 44. Magnum Desert Eagle and tossed it on the table. "So this is empty for now?"
"I'd say it was." Roy walked into the room, acknowledging the other team leader with a nod. Jack shrugged and holstered a 45 auto, frowning at the slight drop in weight. The feeling passed and he turned to Roy. "I say we should move out soon. We're running low on food and ammo and we can't stay here forever." Roy shook his head. "It's too dangerous outside, what with those new bastards out there. We'll stay here for a little longer, until the horde disperses, then we'll leave." Jack's eyebrows knitted together. "If we stay here, what if they don't disperse? They'll gather around here and wait for us to run out of food and when we come outside, they'll ambush us."
"Zombies aren't that smart, Jack! Not even the regular infected could do that, much less ambush us." Jack scowled. "Then how long should we wait? We only have enough food for three more days, and that's only if we skip a meal a day." Roy scowled at Jack and sat down in a chair, the two glaring at each other from across the table. "We should leave them alone for now," Ace whispered to Sckuyler. She nodded and the two crept out of the room, leaving the two leaders to argue.
Jack and Roy sat staring at each other for a long time. Finally, the war vet sighed. "Look Roy, we'll think of something. We always do. We haven't gotten this far on guesses. Let's just settle this and get back to work. We can't argue all day." Roy nodded and sighed. "We can do this, I'm sure of it." Jack stood up to leave. "Jack? Just… don't die out there." Jack smirked as Dylan walked into the room. "Did I just hear you say you need me, Roy?"
"Fuck you, you didn't hear shit." Jack chuckled as he slapped Dylan across the face. "Did you see that one coming?"
"No, what the hell?" Jack smiled and left the little Hunter with Roy, plopping down on the couch with his M4 and began cleaning it. Ace sat down next to Jack and burped in his face. "See that one coming?" Jack coughed and fell to the floor, holding his throat. Ace chuckled and looked for Dylan, who had now disappeared. Jack jumped back up and picked up his crowbar, ready to bash anyone who approached him.
Dylan walked back upstairs and sat down on his bed, completely bored. He sighed and looked around for something to do.
Jack sat back down on the couch and pulled out his iPod, plugging in his earphones and selecting a random song from the Midnight Riders folder. Jack closed his eyes and listened to the song, completely oblivious to the thunderstorm brewing outside.
Outside, black clouds drifted around the safehouse, encircling it and starting a small drizzle, which quickly morphed into a raging downpour, coating the safehouse with ice-cold water. Thunder boomed as lightning crackled and zapped the trees, starting forest fires that were quickly extinguished by the torrent from the clouds. Infected and Zombies alike roared as hordes began to merge, forming one giant mass of rotting flesh and bodies, which directed their charge towards the only place with shelter inside a forest: the safehouse. And survivors or no survivors, the infected all agreed that that safehouse would be theirs.
Jack was awakened by a slap in the face. He stood up and shoved his iPod into his pocket, picking up his M4 and sticking his crowbar into his sheath on his back. It had become almost a routine, waking up like this and getting ready to move without even knowing what was going on. Jack turned towards Sckuyler and said, "What's going on?" He didn't even hear his own words as they were ripped from his mouth by the wind that was blowing around the room. "It's a thunderstorm! Attracting every infected and zombie around for miles!" she yelled over the sound of the horde's scream. Jack ran for the radio and was flattened to the ground by a table which had been flipped by the gale that was quickly turning their safehouse inside out. Jack picked up the little gray box and grabbed the microphone, shouting, "Kilo 44, this is Kilo 11! We need immediate evac, over!"
"Negative, Kilo 11, the storm is preventing any and all rescue missions, over."
"Kilo 44, where's the nearest base camp?" The army took a while to respond, trying to find a good frequency.
"Base Camp Charlie, located three miles south of you, Kilo 11." Jack brought the radio into the large living room, where the team was huddled around a table filled with medical supplies and ammunition. "Kilo 44, requesting permission to advance to Base Camp Charlie, over!" Once again, it took the army a while to reply. "Kilo 11, I'm transferring you over to General Remington, over." Jack covered his ears as a shrill squeal echoed through the room. Dylan howled in pain, his sensitive Hunter ears taking most of the pain. "Kilo 11, this is General Remington. Miller, is that you?"
"Roger that, General Remington."
"Miller, what the fuck are you doing out there?"
"Sir, I have a group of ten plus survivors here in this safehouse. We're about to be overrun any minute. Requesting permission to move to Base Camp Charlie, over." Jack had to pause and cover his ears once again as the squeal echoed through the room once again.
"Green light, green light! Kilo 11, green light!"
"Roger that, Kilo 44! Over and out!" Jack tucked the radio into his backpack. "Guys, we're moving out!" Roy looked up in disbelief. "In this storm? You're crazy!" Jack shook his head. "We're moving out! There's a base camp three miles from here! We're about to be overrun! We have to go NOW!" Jack picked up his M4 and fired at the infected dropping through the hole in the roof, created by a stray bolt of lightning and also the cause of the squeals. Everyone geared up and got ready to leave. Dylan sat on the ground in the fetal position, covering his ears and screaming. Ace grabbed him by his hoodie and wrapped one arm around his waist, using his other hand to fire his sawed-off double barrel shotgun. It was a chore to reload, but it was better than leaving Dylan there. Jack removed the bar from the red door. "When I open the door, run as fast as you can towards the base! I asked them to shine a light on us! Follow that light!" Jack placed his hand on the lever. "Ready…" The infected and zombies spilled into the room through the hole, charging at the survivors.
"Now!" Jack kicked open the door and the survivors rushed outside, charging into the crowd of infected. Erin fired two submachine guns, covering whoever he could. Jack shoved back the infected and focused only on the zombies, blasting each one of them in their rotting skulls. The wind howled almost as loud as Dylan, whipping the survivors forward ten feet. Lightning crackled and trees fell, smashing infected and blocking the survivors path. The survivors quickly vaulted over the trees, each one of them skilled in free-running. They headed straight for the light, which illuminated their path in the almost total darkness of the nighttime storm. The lightning provided only split-second lighting, which also became a dangerous hazard. Because of the quick illumination, the survivors misjudged distances and crashed directly into trees and rocks, staggering backwards and almost getting caught by the horde, which followed close behind. The survivors shook it off, continuing on their way. Jack could see the infected closing in. A zombie wrapped its putrid hands around Jack's ankle and dragged him down, biting him hard in the leg. Jack yelled in pain and kicked it in the face as two more brought down Ace, then Sckuyler, then Dylan. Dylan screamed as a zombie bit his arm and leg, ripping off the soft flesh and chewing roughly. Slowly, one by one, the zombies were bringing down the survivors. The zombies began to feast, ripping off flesh and chewing it roughly before wrapping their disgusting fingers around another piece. Whoever was still standing fought back ferociously, trying to save their friends from becoming zombie food. Jack drew his 45 auto and blew back the zombies, standing up and shoving the two off Ace. He helped Ace to his feet and began tearing the zombies off of Sckuyler and Dylan, both of which had sustained major wounds. Sckuyler held her leg, unable to run. Jack slung her over his shoulder. Ace did the same to Dylan. The infected surrounded the survivors, forcing them to the edge of a cliff that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, hidden by the complete darkness until now. Jack could barely hear the roar of a waterfall over the sound of the gale and cries of the zombies. He looked over the edge and saw the waterfall break the banks and animals and infected alike were quickly swallowed by the blackness of the drink. The survivors drew their weapons and began to make their final stand, dropping the infected like flies on a bug zapper. Bullets and blood filled the air, quickly being whipped away by the wind. The smell of gunpowder filled the survivors' noses, almost as strong as the smell of rotten flesh. The smells made the survivors throw up, regurgitating their breakfast over the edge of the cliff. They staggered around, dizzy and nauseous. Sckuyler had to stop to pull her hair into a ponytail; it was obscuring her aim. Daniel stepped back and shot out his tongue, using it like a whip to push back the zombies. Jack dropped his M4 and drew his sawed-off double barrel, blasting zombies' brains out with every shot. The survivors too weak to fight fell back behind the others and began patching up their wounds, their hands shaking from the cold and the vibration of the thunder. Whole bottles of pills were downed. Adrenaline wasn't taken; the survivors already had an unlimited amount pumping through their blood and fueling their fighting spirit. Rain clogged barrels and jammed guns. Bandages grew soaking wet. Clothes became drenched and added extra weight. Whatever wasn't needed was shed. Jack flung aside his shirt and jacket and shoved his shotgun shells into his pocket instead, reloading every few seconds. Ace flung aside his own jacket and shirt and fought the zombies in nothing but a pair of cargo shorts, boots, and a tank top. Then, a problem worse than even the zombies emerged: The fatal click, click, click. Slowly, one by one, the survivors ran out of ammo. The continuous stream of gunfire stopped abruptly, the air sizzling from the heat of the barrels. The survivors drew their melee weapons. Erin and Joy began tearing zombies apart with their bare claws. Jack smashed in the skull of an infected, blood and bits of brain coating his bare chest. Sckuyler shoved her machete into three zombies as they struggled and screamed to their last breath. Lighting quickly brought down trees, leaving the survivors no means of escape except for the cliff. A zombie pushed Jack back and he missed his footing and fell. A hand shot out and grabbed his, pulling him back up. Ace nodded at Jack and continued chopping at the horde with his axe. Either way, the survivors knew they were overrun. Even Daniel, the Smoker who was a complete pain in the ass, picked up his baseball bat and began smacking zombies, doing anything he could to ensure he stayed alive. Jack's crowbar was pulled from his hands. Ace lost his axe to the horde. Sckuyler's katana was stuck inside a small mix of skulls. Daniel's baseball bat was pulled away by yet another Smoker. Erin and Joy fell to the floor, too tired to continue. Jack closed his eyes. They had made it so far! The base camp was just right over the cliff, almost mocking them with its light, so that the survivors wouldn't die in the dark. Roy fell down next to Jack, a large slash in his arm. Jack held out his hand. Roy took it and stood up, nodding slowly. One by one, the survivors locked hands, standing at the very edge of the cliff. The zombies scratched and screamed with pride, triumphant now that their prey had nowhere to run. Jack held Sckuyler's hand firmly. He could see tears in her eyes. "Dammit, we can't die now! We've come too far!" yelled Rex in anger, his Claymore flying right over the edge of the cliff. Ace held out his hand. Rex saw the look in his eyes and took it, standing at the edge of the cliff with his fellow survivors. Jack heard a loud thud as a Tank came barreling through the infected, swatting them aside like flies. Jack sighed and turned to Roy, smiling half-heartedly. "I always knew that it would end like this. At least we all die together, making our final stand." Roy nodded. "I'm sorry it has to end like this, Jack." Jack shook his head. "It's not over yet." Jack closed his eyes and, with that last of his strength, flung himself over the edge, taking the rest of the survivors with him. The Tank skidded to a halt and roared a roar that shook the trees, watching through his tiny eyes as his prey descended ever deeper into the blackness of the raging torrent below. No one could've survived that fall.
No one.
A/N: "It's not over yet." -Jack Miller.