Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead.

Note: This story has it's chapters constantly rewritten, to fix grammar errors and things like that. Nothing too major. So if you reread a chapter, you may notice small changes. Enjoy!

Among The Bodies: The Call For Help

I liked it better when I could breath, and not have to smell the boomer bile stink emitting from my clothes. There's clearly green traces of slime on me, but I made no move to try to wipe any of the substance off. Attempting to do so would just get the gunk on my fingers, making them too slippery to hold onto a gun, and I was not going to risk not being able to use a gun.

I liked it better when my thumbs would get sore from playing too many video games on a school night, not when my trigger finger starts to ache and feel like its about it plop right off and join the rest of the limbs on the ground. Sometimes, when I have the chance, I pop my knuckles and rolled my wrist. It hurt, but if felt better knowing I still had digits on my hands.

I liked it better when I didn't have to ram someone's skull into the blunt of my gun when they came a little too close. I remembered one of the lives I took, a child running at me in monkey t-shirt, arms stretched out. If it were under different circumstances, I would think of him just coming to hug me. The first bullet took off his ear, and the second lodged between his eyes.

I liked the world much better before now.

I was the first to be awake, shortly followed by Bill and Louis. The rumbling outside was the same noise we had heard the night before, only this time it's louder, and obviously closer. The day before we were able to sneak around a tank, that was too focused on getting through a small doorway then paying attention to whatever was creeping behind it. I would have thought it funny, but uttering a single giggle would have meant a mass of muscle to the face.

Once we had gotten to the safe room, I didn't even bother checking for supplies. I headed for the nearest bedroll and fell on it, finding out it was a lot less soft then it looked. Toning out the men's talk and my nose's throbbing pain, thanks to the pavement under bedroll, I drifted off. The only thing that I cared enough to note of was the distant sound of the tank.

Bill lit a cigar and glared at the bars of the safe room door. It wasn't the door the group had planned on going out of, so they wouldn't have to run into the bumbling monstrosity outside. It was the worry of knowing that tanks are fully capable of breaking down doors, no matter what there made of, and if the tank had found them or not.

He didn't dwell on it. All the more reason to get moving, right? The front of his boots came into contact with Francis's bedroll as he kicked the biker onto an awake state. Francis's clutched the back of his head, mouth open to protest, but slowly closed and rose to his feet as he saw Bill blow his smoke to open bars.

The tank was indeed, right outside the door, completely unaware of the four behind the red painted steel. The only way for the team to successfully escape was to be absolutely quiet, quickly pack their things and leave.

I was pulling my hair back into my signature ponytail. Already attaching a first aid kit to my belt and stuffed as much ammo I could into my pockets. Snatching up one of the two pipe bombs, I faced my comrades. "Ready?"

Louis was fumbling with the pills bottle on his own hook. "Almost" He whispered. Bill leaned against the exit and finished his cigarette, which he playfully flicked towards Francis's shoes. The biker stepped back, muttering quietly. Bill scratched his chin innocently, while a grin grew on my face.

The veteran raised a finger to his mouth, making the universal 'shhh' sound, and turned the knob on the door. I raised my handgun, Francis his shotgun, and Louis his assault rifle. Overtime, we all seemed to have favorite types of guns. Bill was an exception, for he tended to switch to completely different kinds of firearms from time to time.

The woods were thick and I even found common infected jumping out of trees, like deranged gorillas. Occasionally, Francis or Bill would look up and start shooting, and I would see a dead body fall to the ground. I decided that I wasn't going to look up and fire, I was going to focus on what's in front of me.

I debated whether or not I should pay more attention to what's above me, but instead relied on my teammates. There could be hunters and smokers hiding in the branches, waiting for the perfect moment to snag me and hang me high with the birds, or jump down and rip out my throat.

The snarling face of a woman an inch away brought me out of my thinking and I brought down the gun's handle to the side of the head. The body collapsed, twitched, then laid still. I turned and shot two dead running for Bill, in which the old man nodded in thanks, before continuing on.

"Look, up there, gotta be someone still living there." Louis pointed in the direction with his gun. In the fog, I could barely make out a roof and dim lights. In this world now, lights meant life. Bill nodded. "Then let's hope they don't shoot us on sight. C'mon" No one argued as we headed towards the lights.

It was suddenly hard to breath in the fog, the ground underneath my sneakers became soft and mud plastered itself on the bottom of my pants legs. Our path led into a clearing, and I could fully see the fresh tire marks printed in the mud and leading away from the woods, to a crash wreckage of what I'm guessing used to be a truck not far from a house.

The house, broken windows,broken door, and half the roof caved in. Didn't look like anyone could hold up there. I wondered how it even still had the lights on. Bill sighed and pointed to the wreckage of the truck. "Francis, Zoey, check and sees if there's anything in the rubble. Louis, come with me. Move people."

The biker rolled his eyes as the other two men walked away. "Why do we have to check the rubble, it's not like there's gonna be anything in there." He said, glancing back to make sure Bill was still inside the house. It was so like them to speak behind each other's back. "They just want to keep all the supplies to themselves, greedy bastards." He raised his shotgun in emphasis.

I raised a brow. "I'm sure he wants us to check for a zombified driver, Francis" He huffed, and pointed aim at the wreckage. He kicked away a couple of pieces of trash before backing away in disgust. "Leg" I lowered my aim, confused. "What?" he moved to the side to let me see.

"Look, leg"

Dispite the smell of rotting flesh and the sight of maggots, I was able to look with throwing up. I lost the need to do so when I started killing. There was a grey slashed up leg, and if the owner was still attached to it, then they were no doubt dead.

I crouched down and picked up the rubble with my hands, moving it away more efficiently. I lifted up what seemed like part of an engine, and underneath was a white pill bottle. I heard Francis's chuckle as I snatched it up and stuck in on my waist.

"Looks like Bill and Louis aren't the only greedy ones"

"Like your one to talk, you ammo hoarder"

The biker shrugged in defense. "I just have more pockets than you" I ignored him as the face of the leg owner came into view, along with a few questions. There was massive gashes on the man's neck and torso, on the face too, making it completely impossible to identify the driver. It wasn't hard to recognize the dreaded marks and I know that they couldn't have been made in a car wreck. These were claw marks.

I sighed and took a step back. The same marks have been inflicted on him more than several times, so I knew just what creature was responsible for doing this. "He couldn't have died from the crash, not with a grave injury like this." Francis mused. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

"I suppose you found something, or are you two just gawking at the dirt?"

Both survivors turned to meet Bill, once again smoking a cigar. Louis piped up from behind him. "We found food, med kits, and hell, even a radio. I wonder why this place hasn't been drained already!" He cheered, holding up a granola bar. I felt my stomach roar, and pretended not to notice. I hoped no one else did either.

Regardless of whether or not they heard my stomach, Louis tossed a bar over to me, and I gratefully unwrapped it and knawed down without hesitation. "What's that there?" Louis nodded towards the pile. I was about to swallow and answer, but Francis beat me to it.

"We found pills and a dead body, that's about it." Francis shrugged. I swallowed, and coughed. "Actually, the guy died from a hunter, not the crash, Francis," I pointed at the gorey scene. "That couldn't have been made by anything but a Hunter" The tattooed man shrugged again.

"Yeah, I already knew that, so?"

"So, that means that hunter could still be around, son. Keep a look out." Bill replied, walking forward and crouching to observe the body. He shook his head and blew out a cloud of smoke. "Why would a hunter linger here?" Louis asked, something I also wanted to know.

Bill just made his way back to the house and waved over his shoulder. "Plenty of places to hide, the woods, the house, so keep on your guard." I shrugged and walked over beside him. I could hear Francis's little huff. I knew he didn't like the fact that Bill was 'the leader', but the old man was the best of all of them, whether the brute liked it or not. Louis flashed us a smile.

"Alright, let's go see if we can get that radio working"

The inside of the house looked untouched by the disasters of the world. Nice furniture, no blood stains, and if it weren't for the broken door and windows, it would looked normal. Until you walked upstairs, where the attic was bathed in blood and you couldn't walk straight without ramming your head on the ceiling.

Laid up on the couch, I massaged the muscles in my hands and cracked my knuckles. I felt them pop and an instant feeling of relief went through my skin. Louis was on the other side of the room, tinkering on what looked like the radio he talked about. Or what used to be a radio. To me, it looked like scraps of metal.

Francis propped his gun up against the wall and sat down next to me. He watched me crack my hands and flail them. "You know there's a better way to do that, right?" I faced him, raising my brows making a face that instantly said show-me-how.

He took his hands and bended them backwards. I heard loud pops and a crunch, and grew squeamish. It looked like he was trying to break his own hand. He pulled back his fingers one by one and I didn't even want to look anymore.

"What? Too much for ya?"

I could detect the amusement in his voice and retorted back. "That just doesn't look human, Francis. Looks like you're trying to break off your own fingers." I raised my hands and went back to massaging. "I'll stick to my own methods" Francis shrugged. "Fine, but they'll get worse" I rolled my eyes. It was better then breaking them off.

"Hello...General Davidson, calling out….who has made….survi…"

Everyone in the room had brought their attention to the radio. Through the static I could hear a man's voice, though I really couldn't make out what he was saying. Bill turned away from his watch post, and with his hands, made a motion to answer back. Louis nodded. Me and Francis sat still, listening for the voice in the static.

Louis picked up the radio's makeshift mic, and held to up to speak. "Hey, hey! If you can hear me, please say something!" The room went quiet, then the voice was back. "Are you infected?" The sentence was muffled, but short enough to where we could understand it.

Louis replied back a split second later. "No, we are not infected! I repeat, not infected!"

Francis nudged my arm. "Why would we use the radio if we were infected?" I swatted him back to shut him up, trying to listen. He crossed him arms and leaned back, whispering to me "I hate being silent"

I ignored him. "…..many are…you" The man, whom I have decided to call 'Davidson' now, asked. "Four, there are four of us here!" I don't know why Louis was yelling, I guess he thought if he didn't, Davidson wouldn't hear him.

There was what sounded like conversation broken up in pieces on the other side of the transmitter. "We're tracking you to your location, stay where you are and hold off until we get there. Do you copy?" The static in the transmission was complete gone and I guessed they did something on the other end to remove it.

We didn't have to answer. Instead, the sound of an incoming horde answered for us. I slumped and felt like cradling my head in my hands. Francis lept up and grabbed his shotgun and turned to the radio. "We'll hold out, but you better be fast. We won't be here if you take forever" and with that, walked outside and waited for figures to start popping out of the woods.

"We're sending out a unit now, give us an hour, and we'll be there. Over"

Bill tossed me my two handguns and joined Francis outside. I stopped Louis, holding up the white pill bottle I found earlier in the wreckage. "Promise to put this to good use?" He smiled "I'll trade ya" I tossed the pills to him as he pulled a pipe bomb out of his pocket. He never liked trying to attach things to his belt. "You do have the best throw."

I grinned, and we walked outside. Through the dense fog, I saw heads bobbing with blood and puke around their mouths. I couldn't shoot them that far away, not with my hand guns. But I know what I could do.

Bill knew instantly and shouted orders to the rest of the group. "We got you covered, go!" I worked on pulling the pin on the pipe bomb as fast as I could. I spotted a dense amount of zombies in one place, all heading towards us on the east side of the house. Perfect.

I yelled a warning to the rest of the group, and they cleared away from the little circle they made around me. I flung my arms back and threw the ticking bomb right into the thick of the horde. But not a second before I covered my ears to protect myself from the explosion, I heard the faint sound of a growl.