I am the original author of 'Coaches in the Sky' but I forgot my password, so I am using this one.
I do not own Left 4 Dead 2 or its characters.
Coaches in the sky
Chapter one
"C-cold… so cold…" Coach muttered to himself, hugging the one scratchy blanket he had close to his naked body.
Coach was in an abandoned warehouse, and had not seen anyone for hours.
"I need to find someplace that's warmer before I freeze…" Coach groaned to himself, getting up out of the bed of boxes he had made. It was soggy and uncomfortable and smelled like old cat feet. The blanket was wet from the freezing rain pouring down from the broken window above him. He slept under the window to prove to his dead wife, Barbara, he was tougher than her.
Coach walked out of the warehouse, not caring who saw him or his naked ass, slathered with boils and poo.
"Hey! Hey, you!" Coach heard someone holler. Coach spun around, his blanket spinning around his body like a cape. He peered into the darkness, searching for the man who had called to him. The voice had been nasally and annoying, and Coach had hated it.
Coach jolted in surprise as he felt a hand grasp his naked shoulder from behind. He shivered in disgust as the clammy hand touched his body. He turned his head to meet the newcomer, but it was difficult to see in the rain and darkness.
"Y'know, I was talking to you." The man in front of him said. He was dressed in an all white suit. He kind of looked like a gay stripper he had seen once by accident when he went to Vegas.
"You scared the shit outta me, son!" Coach said, shaking his head, chuckling.
"Yeah, great," The man in the white suit muttered, raising an eye from his nail file. "What are you doing out here?"
"I was just looking for a warm place to stay. I was freezing in that damn warehouse!" Coach exclaimed, gesturing to warehouse.
"Great," White Suit said again, drily. "But—COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE."
"What-why?" Coach stuttered, confused.
"Look at this." White Suit ordered. He shoved a piece of paper in Coach's face.
"For evacuation, go to Hiltz Hotel." Coach read aloud.
"So, you coming or what? I'm not gonna wait around for no one for too long. They're not evacuating for long, and I just wanna get outta here. And I'm sure as Hell not trying to get through this crap by myself. Besides, an old fart like you looks like you could use some help. So are you with me?"
"Sure I am, boy."
"Don't call me that. Please don't call me that." White Suit hissed, leading the way to Hiltz Hotel.
"Okay, what your name, bo… uh, buddy… Uhh. Bobuddy?" Coach asked awkwardly.
"Nevermind names, I don't want you getting too attached. I already know I'm sexy. We're just heading to the hotel. Once we get there, don't expect to talk to me ever again. I'm way out of your league, anyways."
"Well, my frien's call me Coach." Coach said.
"Okay, Coach. How about we shut up and get going. I don't want to get stuck in this shithole."
"I don't think I like your attitude, boy."
"No one's making you come with me." White Suit hissed, snapping his fingers.
Coach just shook his head and kept walking.
…
"I'm so freakin' tired." White Suit complained, gasping for breath and sitting on the curb.
They had just overcome a gentle slope, and were close to death. Coach's vision swam and his knees were quaking. He glanced behind him to see the warehouse, only about 20 feet away.
"C'mon, only a bit further!" Coach cried, trying to sound positive, but he was heaving and gasping for breath.
"No way am I gonna keep going! I gotta sleep. Let's go in here." White Suit waved a jewelry adorned hand towards a small secondhand clothing store called Barney's Pre-loved Threads. The window was already broken in.
Who would break into a used clothes store? Coach thought.
"Come on!" White Suit nagged, tapping his foot impatiently, hands on his feminine hips.
White Suit sauntered up towards a large bin full of assorted shirts, pants, and undies, swaying his hips seductively as he walked. Huffing, he took an armful and heaved the items onto the floor. Smiling in an accomplished manner, he flopped down into his pile and closed his eyes.
"Make yourself a bed." White Suit drawled lazily, opening an eye.
Coach stared dumbly at him, large mouth agape. Two days worth of cookie crumbs spilled out of it and onto the floor.
"That's pretty goddamn disgusting," White Suit sneered.
Coach continued to stare, wondering how he could have made such a creation. Mere hours ago, he would have never thought such a feat possible.
Mere hours ago…
Coach's mind began to wonder…
Coach was sprawled on his couch, belt undone. His mighty gut was hanging in a glorious manner off the side of the couch. Cheeto crumbs graced its presence, sticking to it with sweat. It shone beautifully in the evening light.
He stared at his television set, remote in one hand, turkey in the other. The small animal gobbled weakly in protest as he took yet another bite from his back.
A small woman stood awkwardly in front of a building on the news. She was talking of a strange strain of rabies that had been infecting people, and urged people to barricade themselves in their homes until evacuation centres could be set up.
Coach's gaze wandered passively out the window. Outside, he could see a truck full of broken glass spiraling out of control. The driver was foaming at the mouth, and flailing wildly inside the broken glass delivery and pick-up truck.
He roared in surprise and flew up from the couch and out the window. He could feel glass penetrating his fragile skin, but he didn't care. Ever since his wife Barbara had died, he had only wanted to prove he was tougher than her.
He stood on the street, watching the broken glass pour from the truck. A steady rain began to pound down on his head, washing away his blood, sweat, and Cheetos.
Screaming, he tore off his shirt and leapt into the glass.
"Screw you, Barbara! I'm tougher!" he yelled.
"Hey! Hey, hey you! Stop that!" a man's voice yelled.
Coach looked up and howled into the wind. He had been caught. His pants had flown off in surprise. He scrambled onto all fours and took off into the rain, tears falling bitterly down his face…
…
"Hey, fat ass! You've been standing there for twenty minutes! Are you gonna sleep?"
Coach jolted out of his trance at the annoying sound of White Suit's voice.
"Uh, sure. But I ain't making my own bed, bobuddy." Coach said, not wanting to admit he didn't know how.
"Well, you can sleep with me." White Suit grinned, trailing his hand up the length of his leg.
Coach grinned in delight, and thumped down beside White Suit.
"G'night, Bobuddy." Coach whispered.
White Suit caressed Coach's ear lightly with his tongue.
"By the way," he whispered into Coach's hairy ear. "My name's Nick. And don't you forget it, sweetbuns."
Coach shivered with delight at the feel of Bobuddy's hot breath on his ear.
They spooned with each other's naked bodies until they fell asleep.
End of chapter one