Hello, this is my first Fan Fiction published here. I have written another story split into chapters for Left 4 Dead, but I wanted to preview this one-shot here first, and see how I am received, and hopefully gain some constructive compliments and criticisms. Hope you enjoy reading.
Nothing to see, No Health kit here
Rochelle gasped in pain as she slumped against the wall, and tried to use her shaking hands to stem the flow of blood from her abdomen. The loud clang of Nick slamming the safe room door behind them did nothing to drown out the horrible noises from outside. Nick collapsed onto his back and breathed heavily, his breath rattling and rasping from his lungs. Blood was leaking from the five parallel cuts that traced across his chest. From outside of the gas station, Ellis could be heard screaming in agony, as he was ripped to shreds. His screams did little to drown out the frantic screeching of the Witch that was tearing his stomach apart.
Rochelle winced as she tried to shift her body from the cold wall. Every movement she made seemed to pull apart her skin, making her wounds larger.
"We have to go help him Nick!" Exclaimed Rochelle between short and pain riddled gasps. Ellis could be heard shouting and screaming at the Witch, his dual pistols still firing at her. Before Nick could answer, there was a loud screech from the Witch, and Ellis' screams stopped in their tracks. The Witch moaned guiltily, and her quiet padding foot steps could be heard splashing through the puddles of the cane field as she retreated, remorseful for the horrible act she had just committed. Thinking about Witches made Rochelle's own wounds sting. She had been lucky when that Witch had got her; Coach had gotten to work on her with his SPAS. Oh god- Coach!
Rochelle balked forward and fell to her knees, retching as she saw images of Coach, lying on the cold Sugar mill floor, helpless. She retched again, but produced no vomit. She hadn't eaten in a day, and her stomach had no more to give. Tears streamed down her face as relived the two terrifying Witches looming over Coach, and then proceeding to tear away at his flesh. When she settled, she looked up and saw Nick's face. His cold blue eyes glittered, as he surveyed her calculatingly. He reached up soothingly to wipe the tears from her eyes but winced and withdrew his hand when his wounds gave him more pain.
In that second, as Rochelle stared into Nick's eyes, she turned all of her regret and remorse and pain, into pure anger.
"We could have saved him!" She screamed, pushing her energy into that scream. "And now he's…gone." She pushed herself back up onto her haunches and then sat back against the wall, ignoring the discomfort that the shattered tiles created when they pressed into her back. Nick just smirked at her.
"You're dying, sweetheart." He uttered. His words felt like a knife sliding gently through butter as they gently divided the tension in the air between them. She just closed her eyes and tilted her head backwards, drawing in a deep breath. She felt almost defeated by the man before her.
"Well so are you." She whispered back to him. He chuckled back at her and allowed his eyes to wander. As they surveyed the safe room, he wondered whether they should ignite a game of eye-spy to pass away their last minutes, but he was stopped by the sight of a small red object in the corner of the room. For a brief second, all of Nick's pain evaporated, and he no longer saw the burning Witch looming over him when he blinked. He quickly glanced at Rochelle to ensure that she was still unaware. She was, and so Nick reached over.
As his arm extended, pain shot through his chest, zigzagging up and down the long thin but deep slashes. He gasped, and shuddered, as the pain defiantly subsided. Rochelle's eyes snapped open and her head twisted to Nick's direction. As she blinked wearily, she noticed that in his hand was a heath kit. Hope surged through her veins, momentarily replacing the necessary blood that she had lost. She might actually live after all. A smile danced across her full lips, and she cooed to Nick gently, as she had many a time before, when she'd been lying helpless on the ground, desperately needing help. Now, was no different to those other times.
"Sweetheart?" she whispered seductively. "You wanna heal the cute girl?" Nick glared at her as she realised that she was aware of his find.
"Well this makes things awkward. Thanks a lot Ro." Nick snapped back, almost furiously. Rochelle looked somewhat hurt for a second, but then this also turned to anger.
"You really think that you deserve it? Even after the way you treated Ellis, and the way you left him to die!" Rochelle sat upright, grimacing as the dull and sharp pains sprinkled across her abdomen, aggressively turned to a raking agony. This only fuelled her temper.
"How the hell, do you suppose we were supposed to save him then Ro?" Nick retaliated, he was also angry. The words tumbled out of his mouth, aggressive and violent. "All we had between us was an Axe and a magnum. And how would we have got Ellis up from the ground with the Boomer lurking in the cane field, ready to set another truck load of those zombies onto us?"
"Calm the hell down Nick!" Rochelle shouted at him. She wasn't scared of him. She had seen him crying and bleeding and screaming. He was just as vulnerable as everyone else. "We never leave a man behind!"
"Oh, you've changed tactics." Nick muttered smarmily. His eyes regarded Rochelle with animosity and disrespect. "You let Coach die out there too!" Nick's anger boiled over and he lunged at Rochelle, stopping just in front of her to get his point across. Their faces were an inch or two apart, and bits of Nick's spittle flecked across Rochelle's face as he shouted. The rage in his eyes and the truth in his words forced Rochelle to look down. She remorsefully regarded the gathering pool of blood that the two survivors were accumulating between themselves.
She tried to formulate some kind of response, but all was in vain. Nick just continued his unrelenting pursuit.
"If you hadn't pressed the lift button, then we could have at least killed the two Witches that got to him." Rochelle was filled with regret, and she slumped backwards against the wall, her head tiled to the side, fresh tears pouring from her eyes.
"But that Smoker got him… and the Witches, they were too close to him…" Rochelle stammered and found herself breaking down before she could finish speaking.
"You killed him Ro. You." Nick withdrew, picking up the health kit. "You pressed that button, and you sent the lift down. You left Coach behind. You let him die." Nick turned away from the crying and bleeding and dying girl. He muttered a few words, and chuckled to himself.
"You don't deserve to live." Nick spoke quickly, his voice full of pure venom. Before she could help it, images and memories flooded into Rochelle's mind. She began to helplessly drown as she saw images of Coach being dragged backwards, away from the group, towards a cunning Smoker, who had positioned itself by two wandering Witches. She saw the first Witch lunge for Coach and open up a large gaping wound in his stomach. Then as the second Witch joined in the horrific struggle, tearing Coach's abdomen apart, she felt her hand on the cold hard button. She retched as she saw the metal grid sliding into place, blocking their line of site, and stopping them from saving Coach. She remembered watching Coach's guns drop to the floor, and she remembered the heart broken look that Ellis had given her. Oh god, Ellis.
Rochelle was brought back to earth by Nick's insistent fumbling with the health kit. He had removed his jacket in preparation for healing himself, and was greedily emptying the red bag onto the floor. Rochelle blinked her eyes, and wiped the tears and blood away. Nick didn't hear the silent click and rattle from behind him.
"Sweetheart?" Rochelle cooed seductively to Nick, for the last time. He turned, frustrated, expecting to see Rochelle fading away, death's cold arms accepting her, but instead, his cold blue eyes met the cold pitch dark eye of Rochelle's magnum. Rochelle pulled the trigger once, splattering Nick's grey matter all over the walls of the safe room.
There was a moment of satisfying silence, and then Ro reached forward, ignoring the pain, to pull the bandages from Nick's cold and lifeless hands. She wiped a spot of blood from them, and then began the long and arduous process of healing herself.
After Rochelle healed herself, she stood upright, and removed an assault rifle from the gun cabinet at the side of the room. She heftily removed a gas can from the wall and slung it across her back. With one quick motion, she wrenched the door open, and casually stepped outside. She glanced back at Nick's lifeless body, his face shattered. She smirked, and walked outside, loving the feel of the rain as it danced across her face.
Authors Notes: I hope you have enjoyed reading this story, which I believe shows a bit more insight into the least developed character in the whole Left 4 Dead franchise, Rochelle, who has such an amazing back story and personality that is totally overshadowed in the game, and almost non-present. I hope you have enjoyed reading this, and I welcome and criticisms and advice.