Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. If I did own the game, Zoey wouldn't be so polite ("You are welcome, sir." Seriously, you expect this from an 18/19-year-old?), Louis would have an animation whenever he would "sense" pain pills (thieving bastard always taking my peelz!), Bill would die more often (every time his character shouts at me, I just feel like setting him ablaze with a Molotov), and Francis would actually like something other than vests (like the gattling guns in every campaign that are so much fun to mow down zombies with).

((O.o))

Author's Note: Given FanFiction's two-genre limit, I will be adjusting the story's genres as the chapters progress, depending on which two fit best with the mood of the new chapter. To those who don't care too much about that, this story will revolve around Humor/Adventure/Action/Horror/Drama/Romance/Suspense. A lot, I know, hence the genre-shifting plan.

Do note that this story is technically an "OC Story," but I do plan on giving the original survivors a lot of spotlight, so for those of you who dislike OC's in fanfics, please bear with me. With that said, please sit back and enjoy the ride.

Call of the Grave

By: Confused Confusion

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

Prologue: Requiem for the Falling

And if I die before I wake, pray the lord my soul to take.

Inspired Music: "Left 4 Dead (Main Menu Theme)" – Valve Studio Orchestra

Gunfire ripped through the once silent air, screams and primitive howls responded in resounding echoes. Snarls and screeches reverberated through the thin walls of the farmhouse. A small group of figures clad in camouflage backpedaled up the worn porch and into the house, the last man quickly closing the door. A couple of other soldiers rushed to a nearby sofa, pushing it to the doorway before propping it at an angle. The sound of scraping wood filled the group's ears, causing them to hasten their efforts in barricading the door. Wood splintered as a grey, gangrened arm attempted to worm its way through the new opening in the door. The soldier closest to the door roared as he knocked the limb back through the hole with the butt of his rifle. With a quick motion, he flipped the firearm back around and released a stream of lead into the deranged Infected through the small opening.

"Up the stairs people, this thing won't hold forever!" a tall soldier near the back hollered, seemingly the commanding officer of the group. Having long since dispensed with his helmet, the man's hair was cut close to his head, typical of those in the army. He was unshaven and a long scar trailed up to his left temple from his jaw. A small, unlit cigarette was clenched tightly between his teeth. The others nodded briefly before rushing to the staircase. Two soldiers backpedaled; guns trained on the door as the horde of Infected slowly began to tear through the barricade. Another soldier shined her flashlight down the hall leading past the stairs, searching for any sign of Infected, the soldier to her left doing likewise to the dining room as they passed it.

Making it up to the second floor, the group was caught by surprise when an inhuman scream cut through the air. Not even a moment later, a hooded figure flew in through the window, glass and wooden splinters erupting from the wall. The soldier lingering in the rear was thrown back down the stairwell as the hooded creature collided with his midsection. The pair tumbled down the stairs before the Hunter latched onto his abdomen, tearing chunks of flesh off his body. The remainder of the group began shuffling down the stairs, firearms attempting to get a clear shot at the Infected despite the awkward spacing. There was a bang and swarms of Infected poured into the room, the obstacle at the front door having been dealt with.

"Shit, get your asses moving guys, there's nothing more we can do!" the leading officer ordered while grabbing the back of the nearest soldier's collar. He tugged her around the railing toward the bedroom furthest down the hall, a third soldier following close behind as the remaining group was slowly being overwhelmed by the army of the undead. Another scream rose over the screeching of the horde, although this one sounded stationary, unlike the rapidly approaching scream of the Hunter. Before any of them could react, a slimy, pink, boil-covered tendril whipped through the broken window. The appendage wrapped itself around the trailing soldier's midsection, causing the man to glance down at his waist. Time seemed to slow as the soldier lifted his gaze at the two soldiers in from of him, his face contorted in a mix of fear, horror, and reluctance. He shook his head slowly as time sped up, the Smoker's tongue pulling back with a sharp yank. The man was snapped off his feet and pulled through the window in an instant.

"Mitchell!" the female soldier shrieked while attempting to fight the other's hold on her.

The leading officer gave a sharp pull on her vest, causing her to stumble in front of him, "Mitch is dead by now, get moving!" He shoved her into the bedroom, following his comrade before slamming the door shut.

"Fuck!" the female soldier yelled while bringing her rifle up, unloading the rest of her magazine into the spine and head of an Infected that stood over a sitting woman and two children. The corpse fell in a heap as the male soldier began piling everything he could find in front of the door. The empty magazine clattered to floor, but was quickly replaced as the female soldier trained the barrel of her rifle on the blocked door as Infected began to claw and ram against it. The male soldier knelt down near the three civilians, pulling out the two-way on his vest.

"This is Captain Lyons from Delta Squad at Daughtery Farm. Point Echo has been lost, I repeat: Point Echo has been lost. We will hold for as long as we can, over and out," Capt. Lyons practically yelled into the feed, his frantic state beginning to overwhelm his military instincts. He threw the two-way onto the floorboards near the trio before looking apologetically at the woman, "Martha…I-I'm so sorry this happened."

Martha, though fearful, managed a shaky smile while hugging her children closer to her, "It's alright Rob, you and the army did all that you could for us survivors, and for that, I'm truly thankful."

The captain offered her a small smile in return before glancing back at the door and his comrade, Sarah, in worry. Rob pulled a pistol from the holster on his belt and offered it to Martha. The aging woman merely shook her head, pushing the gun back toward the officer, "It won't do me any good, son. You take it; it looks like you'll need it."

Rob hesitated a moment before he recoiled his hand, placing the firearm back in its proper place. Making sure his magazine was full, the captain took his place beside Sarah, joining her in the bloodbath that was about to occur. Martha pulled out a small bag from her pocket while motioning her children into their sleeping bags. The kids accepted the set of earplugs their mother handed them. Once the plugs were inserted, the brother and sister snuggled up close to Martha, looks of fear still donning their faces. The woman, in turn, smiled kindly at them while stroking their hair. Martha removed a plug from each ear and whisper to the both of them, "When I put them back in your ears, I want you to cover your ears with your hands and close your eyes tightly, and don't open them until I say so, okay?" The children nodded and did as they were told.

As Martha sat there, attempting to comfort her son and daughter, she began to hum a song that had always seemed to help her kids in falling asleep. She closed her eyes and hummed louder, pivoting so that all three of them were facing away from the splintering door. Rob and Sarah dropped their guards momentarily as the soft tune reached their ears, both taking a small comfort in it. The action proved to be a mistake as a Smoker's tongue pierced through a small tear in the door, snaking around Sarah's throat before yanking her to the flailing arms of the Infected. Rob raised his rifle to eye-level as hungry nails, claws, and teeth began to tear into his companion's flesh. He pulled the trigger, refusing to ease up until an audible clicking emitted from the chamber.

Martha continued to hum to her children as the captain threw his firearm to the ground, ripping his pistol from its holster and shot at anything and everything that moved. The bed and dresser used in the barricade toppled over as the Hunter slammed into it, temporarily removing the blockade. Rob snarled and threw himself forward at the bed, shoving it against the ruined door and providing limited access to the undead. He continued to empty his clip into the horde, desperately wishing that he wouldn't have to die as the melody became louder and louder. Unbeknownst to any of them, the captain's two-way remained on, broadcasting through the emergency line.

A squad of policemen stopped their shooting momentarily and glanced into their various cars, which were lined up to form a barrier on the cramped city street in Fairfield. A gentle humming resounded from their radios, bringing forth stillness in the air. A river of corpses, those of the Infected and those of unchanged humans, lay before them with more ghouls sprinting toward them on the horizon. The sheriff glanced at their ammo reserves and sighed, there was no chance in hell they were going to hold out against another wave. He pumped his shotgun and closed his eyes, basking in the melody of the humming.

In the metropolis of Newburg, military personnel were busy evacuating as many civilians as they could via airplane at the Metro International Airport. The tension in the terminals was unbearable as every person was screened for signs of infection. Those who were unlucky enough to test positive were dragged off to a restricted "quarantined" section of the airport. Occasional fights and riots would break out in the lines, normally started by people who had the infection, but still refused to acknowledge it, saying that they were "perfectly fine" and "didn't feel sick." The Emergency Broadcast line, which had been looping for hours over the intercom, was suddenly replaced by a soft tune being hummed. Whatever fights that were taking place slowly ceased as everyone strained their ears to hear the mysterious melody that was slowly beginning to fade in and out between static.

National Guardsmen finished forming another row of sandbags around the main doors of Riverside First Church. The building was transformed into a communications point and military outpost due to it being the highest point in the small town. Troops had already stockpiled supplies and weapons into the church itself, even going as far as erecting a small, red beacon light for any passing evacuation helicopters. The pastor of the church had a small group of his congregation, those who had managed to make it, off to the side, leading them in prayer. The soldiers stopped what they were doing when a musical humming floating through the air from their broadcast radio. Even the small group of churchgoers ceased their praying to listen to the faint tune. As the batteries of Rob's two-way began to die, the country listened to the remains of the saddening song as it faded. Just before the connection was cut, the sounds of Infected screams and hissing could be heard in the background, drawing closer to the humming mother and her children…

...The End…Has Begun…

Next Chapter: Fritos at Gunpoint

Where the hero of our story hates cheap hospital glass and Francis is willing to kill for some chips.

AN: Whew, took me a while to grasp and visualize the prologue since I wanted it a certain way. For those who have yet to figure it out, the tune that Martha was humming is 'Left 4 Dead' of the game's original soundtrack; it's the music that plays at the main menu. Ever since I heard the entire song (especially the end with the radio crackling), I wandered if there was any back story to the song itself or not. Although Martha, Rob and the others are NOT my OCs…well, they are, just not the ones this story will revolve around, I felt like I had to throw something like this in there, just to help set the mood and provide a hypothetical situation of pre-No Mercy. So yeah, I'm going to shut up now, please review! Hell, I'll even embrace your flames with s'mores and hotdogs!