Unlikely Alliances Chapter 1: A Cry in the Dark, a left 4 dead fanfic

DISCLAIMER I do not own Left 4 Dead, it's characters or the city of Philedelphia.

Chapter 1: A cry in the Distance

"RUN!" The cry rang out through the quiet city streets, the sound of gunfire and explosives going off in the distance, rebounding off the hard materials that made up the city, echoing through the empty streets, off the lonely buildings. Yelling, gunfire, explosions... Fighting and, by the sound of it, to the death... The sounds continued for a while, getting more and more frantic as they carried on, more scared, more desperate. Eventually, inevitably, the sounds of guns and explosions stopped, to be replaced by a new sound... Screams. Screams of terror and pain, as the owners of the voices were quickly ripped to shreds by the massed horde that was the city. The citizens of Philadelphia, now nothing more than feral, bestial shadows of their former selves. More immunes now dead.

He sat there, crouched low to the ground, as if sitting on his haunches. His ear was raised to the sky, twitching, hearing what was happening even though he was miles away. He knew he had just missed out on a meal. Sitting there, he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in a large drainage pipe, leading from the now unused sewers of the city out to the Delaware. Looking around, he saw the rotten corpse of some old, long-dead homeless person. It would do for now, but he far preferred the feeling of warm blood flowing between his teeth, over his tongue, giving his cold body warmth and energy. The energy needed to perform the gigantic leaps he and his kind were so infamous for. He feasted, even if it was slow and with the constant threat of vomit, but he continued. He would need his strength if he was to catch any prey.

His mouth full and chewing the maggoty chunk of gangrene-ridden flesh, he decided that as soon as it was dark out, he would go hunting. It was as easy for him to see in the dark as it was in the day, but he knew it wasn't so for any survivors left alive. They, as well as all the non-mutational zombies, were strictly diurnal creatures, and he was going to take advantage of that.

His mind was more active than most of the other infected, being slightly more evolved. Thus, he required sleep to give his mind rest. Acknowledging that fact, he lay down, piling the remaining amount of corpse together into a large mound of wet, slimy, wriggling pillow. He would wake exactly as night fell, he decided, and closed his eyes, giving his infected brain a break.

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They were everywhere, all around them! There was no way out. Francis looked frantically around, looking in all directions. They were all perched on the top of a car, fending off a horde that had just appeared from a subway entrance. The cold, lifeless beings were pressing at them from all sides, swinging their arms, raking with their nails, trying to push them off. He suddenly felt a heavy, wet object hit him square in the back with a loud squelch. It sent him sprawling forward, nearly causing him to let go of his shotgun, but he was then pulled back forcefully. It was a smoker. The tongue had wrapped around his chest and was reeling him in. He was pulled off the roof of the car and slammed heavily onto the asphalt below. He was winded instantly, and in response, the tongue constricted mercilessly, making sure he couldn't get any more air.
"Smoker's got Francis!" yelled Louis, who jumped off the car, jamming his boot into the face of the nearest infected. He had always been the impulsive one, and that trait had just killed him. He landed in a roll, and quickly got back up, running, punching, kicking his way towards the rapidly receding figure of Francis, who was struggling against the pull of the Smoker's tongue.

"Louis! There're too many! He's gone!" it was Bill who yelled this time, but it was in vain. You had to give it to that old 'Nam vet. If there was anyone tougher than Francis, it was that old son-of-a-bitch. He had survived through ambushes, torture, firefghts and other, countless obstacles, and had come back out of it, and with a sense of humor to boot!

Louis, however, had never been in such a situation, and had not kept a cool head. He realized his mistake too late. He had sealed his fate the instant he had jumped off. For the first time in his life, he felt pure terror. Fear like no other, as he felt them rip his living body to pieces in front of his very eyes.

"Dammit!" exclaimed bill angrily, as he watched his friend torn to pieces. But he didn't have time to mourn right now, he had to concern himself with his and Zoey's survival. "Zoey, we need to get the hell outta here! I'm running low!" he indicated his backpack, which carried most of their munitions.

"Fuck! Me too! But where can we go?!" She asked, fending off an infected who had tried to climb up onto the car. He shrugged and pelted a spray of bullets into the writhing mass of bodies below him. He heard Zoey cry out, and he turned expecting to see her pinned by a hunter. Instead Zoey had spotted something over to the right of the car, in the middle of the street. Bill looked quickly, not liking the idea of his back towards a mob of zombies, and saw it. An open manhole which a hunter had burst out of at some point. The cover was several meters away and slightly dented.

They looked at each other, and with a silent acknowledgement, jumped off simultaneously, Bill running for the lid and Zoey for the hole, covering him with her pistol fire. Bill reached the lid, and turned just to get tackled to the ground by a hunter. It started slashing at his face and chest as hard and as fast as it could. His rifle had been knocked out of his hands when it had landed on him, and he was slightly dazed from the impact, but he had enough wits about him to put his arms up in an attempt to protect himself. He reached with his left hand down to his leg, and took a knife out of the pocket. He swung, and scored a hit. The sideways force of the impact was enough to send the hunter sprawling to his right, and that gave him enough time to jump up, and stab it in the temple. It crumpled instantly.

"Are you alright?! He heard Zoey yell as she was beset by two infected at once. She managed to trip one, which fell down the hole, and shoot the other square in the throat.

"I'm fine, just make sure no more of those get me!" he yelled back, retrieving his rifle and picking up the lid. He was almost there, when a loud roar sounded from the rear of the horde. Bill's and Zoey's heads shot up to look each other directly in the eyes. Just when they thought it couldn't get any worse, a tank had come into the picture. In response to the sound, Bill ran faster, and Zoey shot faster. After what seemed like minutes, he arrived, placing the manhole cover beside the hole in order to slide it into place.

Zoey turned towards their escape route, but not before she caught a glimpse of the massive block of flesh burst through the wall of dead people and come charging straight towards her. Turning to Bill, she decided not to look again. Quickly, she lowered herself through the hole. Bill followed soon afterwards, but before he could get his whole body through, the unthinkable happened. He died. A piece of concrete the size of a man skimmed over the top of the manhole, cleaving Bill clean in two from the chest upwards, and also managing to completely block the manhole. He was dead. He was dead, and she was trapped.

So, what'd you all think? Review please, and I'll try and cater to your requirements (not).