I do not own Left 4 Dead or its characters. Everything here belongs to its respective creator.

Chapter 1

The Deserter

2 Years after initial outbreak

Augustus Mental Rehabilitation Clinic, Denver, Colorado

I'm sitting in a windowless room, empty except for the table I'm sitting at and a mirror on the wall opposite me. I've seen this show plenty of times before. This is an interrogation. A man in a dark suit walks in, sunglasses in all. CIA I bet, if they even still exist anymore. He sits down with a smirk on his. I wanna wipe it off with my fist.

"Hello Mr. Callahan, I was beginning to think we'd never find you. I was hoping to-"

"PFC. Callahan, 3rd National Guard." I correct him, and the smirk slides off his face.

"Not anymore it's not. Mr. Callahan, do you know why I am here?"

"Flaunt your plastic badge and pretend you're making a difference?" That did it, now he's scowling at me. Good.

"This is a very serious matter. Your life depends on what goes on in this room. Now tell me, why exactly did you do it?"

This fucker has to be messing with my mind, I have no idea what he's talking about. He looks at me like I'm playing dumb, but I honestly have no idea what he means.

"Answer me you degenerate! I've been chasing this around for a year! Why did you do it, why did you kill them!" He slams his fist on the table, and two orderlies walk in. Either of them could arm wrestle a tank in under 5 seconds if they wanted to.

"I didn't fucking kill anybody Mr. High And Mighty assho-" He slams his fist on the table, and two orderlies come in. They stand by the door watching my every move. These guys look like they could arm wrestle a tank in under five seconds.

"You killed them! We saw you do it. Explain these." He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out pictures. In the first one is a massive battle taking place, the picture was taken from overhead. U.S. Military personnel in a losing battle against the infected. The second is a view from overhead yet again, but this time it's zoomed in. There is a kid standing in a train, looking back at the battle from picture one. He has short, dark hair, a thin layer of unkempt facial hair, and is wearing a torn and bloody U.S. Military uniform. His young, 19 year-old face looks out at the carnage behind him, relief his only feeling as he speeds away from the deathtrap behind him.

That kid was me.

"Whoa buddy! I don't know who said what, but it wasn't my-"

"SHUT UP! I've been following this for a year, trying to find that kid in the picture. I found you. A crazy, bat shit insane kid who tried to play soldier but didn't have the balls to-"

"IT WASN'T ME!" I start flailing around and the orderlies have to restrain me, as I try punching, kicking, and biting my way out. One has a syringe, ready to sedate me. Not again, the memories will come back, please don't send me back there-

"Stop." Both orderlies let me go, surprised at his order. I was as stunned as they are, so much so that I stop trying to fight. "Now tell me Mr. Callahan," he says, his voice low, but filled with power. "who exactly was it?"

I can't speak. No one ever asked me this before. No one believed me. He speaks again, "Tell me your story Marty. I want to know everything." What? He has to know I have one hell of a long story to tell.

"Sir, you mean from the beginning? We're going to be here awhile."

He sits back and props his feet up onto the table. "Go ahead son. I have all the time in the world." Well, there's nowhere to start like the beginning.

"My unit had just returned from overseas. I was done with my second tour of duty. In a month I would be out of the army, on to training for a civilian job to make ends meet. A weird mission came down from the top. We were going into Philadelphia to help keep the peace at the evacuation center at the Red Line main station in the center of the city. We never made it halfway there."

2 Years ago

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Holly Street Apartments

We were grouping up with some humvees near the apartments. We were going to load up and push through to the evac center. Push through? Who the hell are we fighting the hell are we fighting, the commute? Those were my thoughts as we took all the ammo we could carry. "Everyone ready?" The Lieutenant wanted to go, we were wasting to much time for him. He was one of those medal hunters, he thought this was a movie or something. The rest of us were just confused as hell.

We nodded the affirmative. "Alright shitbirds, lets get movin'!" He honked the horn, and then they were on us. They seemed to pour out of the buildings, there were hundreds of them. The LT was gone in a second, taking his humvee with him. The rest of us were boxed in and started shooting. My M4 Carbine thundered non-stop. Tyson jumped onto the humvee with a .50 cal on it and began spraying into the crowd. Blood and body parts flew everywhere as our rifles joined in. Sarge, Mike, and me were taking cover behind Tyson's vehicle and laying in to the bastards. My mind hadn't registered them as zombies yet. It looked like we might make it out as their numbers dwindled, but we weren't out of the woods. I reloaded my rifle as the loudest roar I ever heard echoed from the rooftop above us.

A giant, muscled monstrosity jumped down infront of us. It picked up Tyson's vehicle like nothing and threw it at us. Tyson never made it out. Then it began running at me and it swung its tree-like arm from the right. I dived to the ground and began unloading into its gut, but the arm took Mike's head clean off. It prepared to bring its fists down onto me, but I rolled out of the way.

By this point I was a gonner, I knew I wouldn't make it out alive. Then a horn sounded, a car horn, and the beast looked to his left. I have no idea why, and I don't I ever will, but the LT's humvee came screaming down the street. He drove straight through the new horde that appeared, going straight for the body builder's dream that was almost on top of me. Then it picked up a chunck of the street and hurled it at him. He tried to avoid it, but swerved into the entrance of the apartment building behind us, caving in the front wall. I started to scramble back, and had just enough bearing to run to the crash and avoid the blow that he nearly dealt me.

Then Sarge, that big, beautiful hard-ass ran straight at the thing with a grenade. Just as he puleld the pin, a hooded figure leaped from the other side of the street and landed on him, knocking the grenade to the ground beside them. I jumped through the gap the humvee crash had made into the apartments, and I looked back just as the grenade exploded. Shrapnel hit my face, scarred the right side up pretty bad. The big bastard turned from me and brought his hands down on what was left of Sarge and the hoodie thing, its back bloodied from taking the brunt of the explosion.

I did the only thing I could do. I ran.