Animal Instinct
Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from the Left 4 Dead series, only write for fun.
A.N.: Well Here goes my first ever Left 4 Dead fic.
Warning: Violence, gore, language, gore, mental damage, gore, lemons in future chapters. Did I mention gore? Come on people, it's a zombie story, what do you expect? Also this will be a M/F/M fic, Hum/Zomb, don't like, don't read. First and last warning. I will post at the beginning of the chap if there is a lemon, no worries.
Prologue: Time
Five years.
It had been five years since the first bite. Five years since relative peace ruled the world. Five years since I had a family, since my college GPA was all that mattered, and five years since it was safe, anywhere.
Five years ago, some military science 'experts' claimed to have unlocked a cure for cancer. However, they needed to test it further on humans for more accurate results and made a call worldwide for volunteers. The first flood of volunteers were people who'd lost someone to cancer. The second and even the third were more or less the bleeding heart kind of people. You know, the kind who might chain themselves to a tree to keep it from getting cut down. Either way, there wasn't a shortage of guinea pigs for the so called 'experts'.
The year before the first call went out my mother passed away from brain cancer. My older brother took her passing the hardest as he was closer to her than I ever was, being daddy's girl. Though I guess part of that comes from me still being in mourning from my father's death in action not two years beforehand. Scott wasn't the same after that, but honestly I think it was the last straw. He was one of the first to volunteer for the Cure and one of the first to disappear.
It took three months before the media took notice that those same volunteers never made it back home. Those that left just seemed to slowly but surely stop contacting the outside world. Family, friends and all loved ones alike. At first people thought it was because they were more or less quarantined for testing results, at least that was the news report given. However, anyone that tried to contact them or even sneak a peak of the volunteers seemed to go missing as well. "Joined the testing groups for the betterment of mankind" was the story released in the papers. Pretty soon after that the media stopped asking questions, and the rest of the world right along with it. Wasn't long before those missing faded from the news and the public memory all together.
I stopped hearing from Scott, my brother, about 6 weeks in. The last time I heard from him was a poorly handwritten letter that was ripped on one side. He rambled on and on about some farmhouse down south that Dad would take us to as kids during winter vacations, some place in Georgia. The only problem being, we'd never been to a farmhouse.
With the military keeping everything hush-hush no one had any idea of what was about to befall the human race. Unlike with a natural disaster, no one knew what to expect, to look for or that there was anything to expect at all. There was no warning, no preparing, no preventative measures taken, nothing. For how can you prepare for something you don't even know is coming? That you didn't even know existed in the first place? Simple, you can't, and chaos reigns.
And that is exactly what happened.
When the first bite was reported in Philadelphia, in the USA, no one really paid it much mind. Some crazed homeless guy on the subway, just another day right? A few more people were bitten, a couple of cops, a medic that responded to the 911 call and a few civilians that stepped in to try and help out. After treating those injured, and taking away the few needing more urgent care and the guy who started it all, things seemed to go right back to normal everyday big city life. Strangely enough the media didn't pay it much attention, just another crazy homeless guy remember? Well maybe they should have. But it wasn't until several hours later that anything seemed wrong with this picture.
The people that suffered from the first attack began running dangerously high fevers, causing a couple of deaths within just a few hours of the attack. A few that survived developed pus pockets that popped and burned like some kind of acid, while others vomited blood, and more still suffered from strange bone and muscle deformities resulting in extreme pain and violence to themselves and those around them. Their minds were quickly reduced to that state of crazed animals or children, easily spooked and prone to violent fits of behavior. Soon all of the subway victims began lashing out at any and all that got within striking distance be they family, friends, doctors, nurses, it didn't matter.
Each and every strike was for blood, biting through clothes and flesh alike, and spreading their suffering. For anyone bitten seemed to fall victim to this new illness as well. And so, the illness and madness seemed spread like wildfire far and wide with no end in sight. New cases appearing around the world every few days or weeks, and sometimes within hours of each other. Be they by train, bus, boat or even plain, there was no escape. There were very few who appeared to be immune to this new madness that was taking over, and even fewer who could survive it.
In the immortal words of Amara Moyna Williams, "Well, shit."
Hey my name is Amara. I'm twenty-two years old and currently surviving the Zombie Apocalypse, also known as the "Green Flu". Alone, fun right? I wonder how long I can make it, I mean it's already been 5 years since the first bite that started it all, and at least 2 years since I've seen another human. Well ok, I've seen plenty of infected humans but no other survivors. Not since a tank got the drop on that last group. Never knew what hit them. Yay for end of world humor.
So yeah, I'm writing in a journal to keep a record of everything I know from both Before and After the flu. And maybe to leave something behind, a sort of minder that I lived. Something to show "Hey! Look at me! I was a person who lived and survived. I was here!" Because to be honest, it gets kind of easy to forget that yes, I am alive out here when I've been alone for so long. Sometimes I find it hard to remember that I'm not one of Them. That my blood is still clean, that I haven't lost myself to the Madness of the Flu.
That's not to say that I'm still 100% sane. Oh no not be a long shot. I mean you can't really expect to survive like this, going day to day killing sick people for your own survival, and not go at least a little bit coo-coo. Oh no!
But yeah, welcome to my journal, the final record of my life as I make my way through the world after the Flu. I hope I run out of pages before I run out of reasons to write. Mainly reasons to stay alive.
Wow that was depressing. Well, Shit!
A.N.: Well? What did you think? Continue?