Well everyone, I decided to start work on this fanfic after much deliberation. This is going to be about an OC and well, you're gonna have to read it to find out more about him.
I will only say this once throughout the entire fanfiction; I do not own Left 4 Dead, any of the special infected, nor the general idea of the apocalypse that is in this world. That belongs to Valve and anyone else who was involved in creating Left 4 Dead.
Through the doorway, turn left.
Run down the hall.
Hallway splits. Goes straight and to the left.
Which way?
Stop.
Check left. Check straight.
Straight leads to elevator lobby. Left to a fire. Witch is moaning. Probably from elevator lobby.
Go left.
Sprint.
Jump over fire. Keep running.
Get out of here!
Ignore pain. Muscles screaming for rest. Can't go too much further.
Get to emergency stairwell.
Get in. Close door. Check for infected. Are there any here?
No.
Take breather. Catch breath.
His mind raced as he ran through the hotel, attempting to escape from the hordes of infected that were chasing him, seeking his blood, his flesh, his life. Never before had he run so fast or so desperately. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins, calling speed to his flight. This is what he had been searching for his entire life. For 21 years he had been searching for something, and this was it. The exhilaration of fighting to live, of stretching your mind and body to its limits to save yourself, in which the reward was continuing, and the painful failure would be death.
He smiled, panting through his teeth as his muscles recuperated. After four years of prepping for a disaster scenario, he finally got his wish. The zombie apocalypse. As horrible as it was, it was also a blessing in disguise for the world in his mind. Humanity had been choking the life out of it for centuries. It gave them everything and they gave back nothing. Relaxing, he let his head hit the door and slid down so he was sitting. Finally the status quo was arranged correctly. No longer was it those who were born to rich families, or those who schemed, or manipulated their way to power and for money, no longer did they rule. Now it was those who were physically and mentally capable, those who knew the rules and how to survive by bending and obeying them.
Hefting the pistol, he mentally calculated how much ammunition he had. Forty one rounds in four magazines. Five in this one, three others full with twelve each. It was enough for a good amount of infected. Luckily, headshots were guaranteed one hit kills. While granted, unloading into their bodies could have the same kill, it took way too many bullets and he didn't have the time to waste on all the infected. He needed to find a secure location, and fast. Night was falling, and he did not want to be caught out there when it got dark.
Getting to his feet, he moved to the handrail in the middle of the stairwell. Looking up, he noted about seven flights of stairs above him, about six floors or so assuming the last was a roof access. Glancing down, he counted ten flights of stairs.
He moved back before anything happened to notice him looking over the edge. Six flights up and ten down. Which way did he want to go. Cursing silently in his head, he thought through the pros and cons of each decision. He hated not having a partner or two with him. They usually have some insight as to which decision he should or shouldn't make. Going down meant that the number of infected could easily increase, due to street access, but going up could get him trapped. Taking a risk, he cracked the emergency door open slightly. Looking back into the hallway he just ran through, he noted the dying fire and burnt corpses on the ground. Apparently, the piling of bodies managed to smother the majority of the fire. A few stumbling infected still roamed the hall, so he quickly closed the door before they took notice of him.
Chance of fire, low.
Chance of death by fire or smoke inhalation, low.
Choices: go up or down.
Decision, go up, barricade stairwell, clear floor, hope for the best.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his heart rate and blood pressure down. Standing, he calmly walked up the stairs, taking care to place his feet silently onto the concrete and metal stairs. He encountered a single body on his journey upwards, about three flights up from where he entered. After quickly kicking the body flat on the ground and crushing the head with a curb stomp, he searched the corpse for anything useful. All he found was a wallet and half a pack of tic tacs. Sighing, he placed the tic tacs down and rifled through the wallet, taking the twenty dollars out of it and putting the wallet back. He once again continued his trek upstairs.
He reached the second to last floor. Holding the pistol he found in one hand, he opened the door slowly. Glancing around the door frame, he took note of his situation.
Large hallway. Same as previous one.
Ends in a T five doors down.
Five rooms on left. Four doors intact. One left ajar.
Zero infected.
Windows on right side of hallway. All unbroken.
Sounds of shuffling.
Infected are on the floor.
Where?
Search fourth room with door ajar first.
Check watch. Time is 5:25:39.
MOVE.
He darted out of the stairwell. Keeping low with the pistol in front of him, he rapidly traversed the expanse of hallway between him and the fourth room. He stopped just in front of it, leaning against the frame of the door and peeking inside. His perspective changed as a massive surge of adrenaline hit his brain.
Inside room clear no infected move in keep to wall closet closed chance of finding infected there slim to none shuffling louder than when in stairwell infected either here or further down room opens up four-no five feet ahead move up check right side nothing living room blood staining both carpet and walls pistol is loaded and ready is the safety off? safety off move forward go to room check inside nothing here so far bathroom located to the right again shuffling louder now move to left to put space between possible hostile and self door to bathroom closed opens outwards damn handle on right side of door open it with left hand holding pistol at head height swing door open rapidly and one shot to possible hostile head. chance of there being multiple infected low but there five bullets five infected unlikely calm down prepare to move open the door NOW!
He swung the door open and was greeted with the back of an infected's head. It moved up, taken by surprise at the sudden opening of the door. It didn't have a chance to turn around as he delivered one shot directly to the rear of the skull, sending a bullet into it's head, obliterating the brain, and making it drop like a rock.
He sighed and listened, hoping the retort from the pistol hadn't alerted any other infected to his presence. Thunder boomed outside the building, making him turn. Checking his watch, he noted the time was now 5:26:11. A little over thirty seconds had passed from when he left the stairwell. He shook his head, growling. He needed to be faster. Twenty seconds should have been more than enough for that. Hefting the pistol, he moved out of the room. He crept up to the T where the hall split left and right. He looked out and checked both sides. There didn't appear to be anything to his left, where the elevator lobby for this floor was located. No shuffling, squelching, ripping, growling, or tearing. No noise from over there. The right side didn't offer much either. The thunder made it difficult to discern whether or not there was anything in that direction but he wasn't going to find out today.
Cautiously walking over to his left, he looked into the small lobby. Nothing was there except for a couple of trashcans and a bench. He quickly grabbed the bench and dragged it over to where the fifth door he originally had seen was. Dropping it, he went back and brought over the two trashcans. He looked at them and nodded. This would be the start of a small barrier to hopefully prevent some infected from surprising him in the night. He searched the adjacent rooms. Nothing except the usual hotel furniture was left in the fifth, fourth, and third rooms. The second one was loaded with lots of suitcases. He assumed it was a typical American family. He shook his head. Apparently nobody except their family owned a washing machine. Seriously, how many suitcases did a three bed hotel room require? How many people were sleeping there?
He opened the first door, the one closest to the stairwell and was immediately overwhelmed with the stench of death and decay. Gagging, he covered his face with a handkerchief he carried in his pocket and that only helped marginally. Moving through the room, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary until he walked into the main bedroom.
The corpse of two women, their gender obvious by their clothing, were laying in each others arms, holding each other close. Tears crept up into his eyes. They couldn't handle this world and preferred to go out together than try to brave it. He then noticed something odd. One had her head in the other's chest, her arms wrapped around her waist, with a hole in her head. Moving closer, he noticed the second woman's head was tilted backwards slightly. He cocked his head to the side and noticed both the pistol and the hole in her forehead. Upon closer examination of the first woman, a bite on her shoulder became obvious to him.
He concluded that the first woman had been bitten and they both must have seen the effects of a bite. The second one shot the first one, then took her own life. It was sad to him, but then again, this world was no longer for everyone. Some people, he knew, just couldn't handle it.
He picked up the gun and searched the women for ammunition, then wrapped their bodies in a sheet and took them to the balcony.
I'm sorry.
He tosses them over the railing, watching the bundle fall to the pavement below. He hated desecrating their bodies, but they were dead and he didn't want to get sick from their rotting corpses. It was simply a matter of keeping himself safe. He would have preferred to either bury or cremate them, but he had the resources to do neither.
An hour later, he had built a large, thick barricade in the hallway and barricaded the door to the stairwell. He smiled and nodded, satisfied with his handiwork. Dragging himself into the third room, he sat down, relaxing for the first time that day. After the rude awakening at 5 in the fucking morning, he was glad to be able to sit down comfortably.
He jumped up, realizing he forgot about food for the morning. Running to the fridge in room three, he ripped open the door and was greeted with a lot of nothing. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting such a simple need. Racing around he went to the fourth, fifth, and second room with no luck except for a couple bottles of water and some tea packs. The first room that still smelled of decay was the jackpot. He cried out with joy when he saw the fully stocked fridge and pantry. He hauled everything he could out of the room and took it back to the third room and put it all into the fridge and pantry. It was enough dried food and packaged stuff to last him at least two weeks with proper rationing. He decided that tomorrow he would shower properly. Hopefully the hot water was still functional. It should be in theory, since the power was still working properly.
He laid down on the mattress he dragged onto the floor in the living room and rested his head to sleep. He put his pistols on the floor next to him and set his watch to wake him every other hour. He didn't want to fall into a deep sleep and not realize that an infected was turning him into a midnight snack until it was too late. He stared at the ceiling, wondering how the friends he got separated from were doing. He continued wondering and thinking until sleep finally took him.
Well there we go. My first attempt at a complete original character. PLEASE R&R I would love to know how you guys react to my new character and if you want to read more of my work go check out Elemental Rosario a fanfiction of Rosario+Vampire! Thanks and again, R&R!