A Fleeting Memory

Author's notes: Hi guys! I just want to start of by saying the usual stuff. I don't own any of the characters or the universe or anything of that sort all of that belongs to Valve! Secondly, I know i'm writing about a 10 year old game, but I've recently grown re-attached to the Left 4 Dead series and felt inspired to write about it. I'm not expecting many readers but I hope that if you do decide to read this that you'll leave a review C:

Chapter One: Old Soldiers

William "Bill" Overbeck

Fairfield, Pennsylvania

Two weeks before first infection

Bill looked up toward the sky, watching a screaming metal bird race over him, flying off into the horizon. He felt the sonic boom crackle over head, as the plane's payload fell to the earth. Standing in a clearing amongst the dense trees, Bill watched in horror as the jungle was set ablaze before him. He looked around in the clearing… he was the only one who had made it out of the treeline. It was then when he heard the screams echo around him… he felt his hands clutch his rifle cautiously raising the gun as he saw dark figures stumble toward him. He felt his fingers tense, ready to pull the trigger. Hearing further screams of torment, a spark of recognition caused Bill to lower his gun and run toward the inferno. Finding the source of the cries he could only watch helplessly as the misfortunate victim fell to the ground thrashing in agony. Bill watched dumbstruck as the man struggled toward him howling in pain, writhing about in a feeble attempt to put out the flames consuming his body. Bill made eye contact with the burning creature *help me…* it croaked it's final words as the charred cadavre fell lifelessly to the ground an expression of terror forever painted upon its face. Solemnly Bill kneeled beside the body, a metallic glint catching his eye… the fallen man's dog tag. Bill had picked it up, and felt himself choke, forcing back the tears in his eyes as he read the words: HENDERSON SAMUEL A. 1ST SPECIAL FORCES GROUP

Awaking with a gasp, Bill shot up from his covers and was greeted by his dark bedroom. He found himself looking out his third floor window, observing the urban street below. The sun had barely peaked from the horizon but already Bill saw the headlights of passing cars, and the hurrying figures of pedestrians before him. Wearing only a white undershirt and boxers, the old man got up on his feet. He instinctively found himself tidying his covers and straightening his bed. He gave a slight smirk, musing that while a knee of shrapnel could take him out of the army, it couldn't take the army out of him.

Still shaking himself out of his nightmarish flashback, Bill limped toward his dresser putting on a gray sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans. He grimaced in pain as the injury in his knee began to act up. Bill cursed at his leg wound as he hobbled painfully toward his kitchen. The old man was living in a veterans home, "assisted living" they had called it, Bill had hated the idea but being barely able to hold a job he didn't really have much of a choice. It had been almost forty years since he came back from nam, forty years since he had watched the charred remains of what was once his friend fall before him… shaking his head Bill opened up his fridge, pulling out a small container of cold oatmeal. After placing a small steel pot on his worn electrical stove he grabbed the container and emptied it's contents into the pot. Reaching for the stove controls, Bill turned the knob and cursed as it came off it his hand. He looked at the slightly rusted white stove which might have been as old as himself. Letting out a sigh he took the faulty knob jamming in back into its rightful place.

After heating his breakfast, Bill sat quietly shoveling spoonfuls of lukewarm oats into his mouth in an almost mechanical fashion. This was business as usual for the veteran, feeling himself fall into the same everyday routine, a practice that had stayed with him since his days in the army.

Suddenly, Bill heard a loud crash followed by shouts of alarm. Springing into action bill found his hands gripping a kitchen knife as he kicked over his wooden dining table diving behind it for cover. He heard his porcelain breakfast bowl shatter, sending chunks of mushy oats across the wooden floor of his apartment. Hearing the wood creak in the hallway outside, Bill crouched tensely behind the table, his eyes glued to his front door readying himself to pounce on his attackers.

"Mr. Overbeck?" A female voice called from the hall. "Mr. Overbeck are you alright?"

Bill let out a sigh and relaxed his muscles, dropping his knife to the ground and walking toward the door. As he opened it, he found himself face to face with a young woman barely out of her teens, she had a pair of large innocent brown eyes, and a stream of scarlett hair tied neatly in a ponytail.

"Good morning Lauren.." The old veteran grumbled. Lauren was one of the volunteers at the veterans home. While Bill knew that she meant well, the young girl's naivety and innocence had always managed to get on his nerves.

"Good Morning Mr. Overbeck!" Lauren smiled pausing for a bit as her large eyes looked over the grizzled man before her. "You're looking well."

Bill couldn't help but let out a small sigh. "Lauren, is there a reason you're knocking on an old man's door this early in the morning?" he asked, trying to hide the tones of annoyance in his voice

"I heard some commotion from your apartment" the cheerful volunteer explained, "I was worried, and thought I should check up on-" the young girl's voice waivered. Bill watched her eyes glance nervously at the mess behind him. "Mr. Overbeck…" Lauren said, "...is everything alright?"

Bill grumbled quielty to himself. He didn't have the energy to tell the young girl about his flashbacks. He didn't want to explain to her that while he was living safely in Pennsylvania it still felt like his mind was still in the war.

"I'm fine kid… I just heard a crash outside and got a little startled. You can leave now, I'm fine" he reassured the girl a tinge of annoyance trickled from his voice.

Not catching the hint, Lauren began to excitedly speak, "A crash? You must mean the car crash outside, I saw it happen! Just a bumper buster though… didn't look like anyone was hurt. That reminds me though, there was this one time-" and as the girl began to ramble Bill had lost his paitence.

After telling the girl off, Bill had slammed the door in the poor girl's face. However, almost imedeatly he felt a twang of guilt pull at his heart as he pictured the girl's young curious eyes. Bill sighed, deciding that he owed Lauren an apology. It wasn't her fault after all, it was just difficult for an old man like him to keep up with all that energy. Deciding to clean up the spilt oatmeal, Bill felt himself wince slightly as he heard another knock on his door.

"Lauren I-" Bill stopped in surprise. Where he had expected to see a short young ginger haired woman he instead saw a tall man with dark hair dressed in military uniform. It took the old veteran a second to identify his visitor before breaking into a smile.

"Uncle Bill" the uniformed man grinned stepping forward to give Bill a brief hug.

"David? Did you get shot in the ass or something? I thought you weren't due back til next Janurary!" the elderly man exclaimed.

David gave off another hearty chortle "As a matter of fact old man, I took a 9 milimeter to the arm." noticing Bill's worried stares David shook his head. "Don't worry it was just a flesh wound. Docs said that I'll be just fine, though nonetheless i'm on extended vacation" Pulling up his sleeve to show a red scar on his forearm.

Bill let out a relieved sigh before letting out a little laugh. "Well then, don't just stand in my hallway, come in!" as he invited the soldier on leave into his apartment.

David Henderson had been like a son to Bill. Having been good friend's with David's father he saw it upon himself to watch over the child when his dad didn't make it home. As the young boy grew older, he followed his father's footsteps and joined the army serving two tours in the middle east. As the two men laughed and shared stories of their tales from the army, Bill couldn't help but grin as he saw the same bravado and charisma in David that he had remembered in his old friend.