Authors's Notes - Now I shall try my hand at a Left 4 Dead story! Reviews determine how much effort I put into chapter 2 ;)
Disclaimer - I do not own Left 4 Dead in any way, shape, or form.
The forest was eerily silent. Whether that was a good or bad thing, the survivors didn't care. They were just glad that no Infected were around to disturb them. The only thing that could possibly ruin the silence was-
"I hate silence." -Francis.
Zoey, Louis, and Bill all just rolled their eyes, not wanting to encourage the biker, only wanting to continue their trek through the forest in relative peace. The next interruption of the quiet however, was a noise that made them stop dead in their tracks.
"Hold on people, there's a Hunter nearby." Bill stated, holding his hand up to stop the group.
The distinctive cough of a Smoker also was enough to make the group huddle closer together in a circle, making it possible to see in all directions.
"Great, a sweatshirt wearing wuss and a walking cigarrette. Come on out and fight like men!"
Louis nudged Francis's arm and sternly said, "Quiet man! You wanna alert the horde? We've been fine so far, so a couple of specials shouldn't be a problem."
Francis mumbled something about hating optimists and moved forward slowly. Bill quickly took the lead and lead the group through the forest towards a farmhouse in the distance. Each of them silently noted that the closer they got to the house, the louder the Smoker and Hunter noises became. Their steps became more cautious as they walked into a clearing and came into full view of the house.
Zoey was the first to look up and notice, "Hey look! There's smoke! Someone must be around here!"
"No," Bill corrected, "That smoke isn't coming from the chimney, and its very thin. Looks more like a Fire has been recently put out." He directed the group towards the back of the farmhouse where the smoke was originating from. Again, the Infected's coughing and howling were getting louder.
"Those pansies are definitely around here somwhe-" Francis couldn't even finish his sentence as they stepped around the corner and came to a sight that none of them had ever seen before.
The Hunter and Smoker they had been hearing were right in front of them, although they weren't rearing for an atack or ambush. Both Infected looked as if they were in great distress and it quickly became clear that the screams of the Hunter were actually pained yelps while the Smoker's coughing was it trying to gasp for air.
"Dear God...what happened to them?" Zoey's question was left unanswered as she and her comrades took in the sight before them.
The Hunter was hog-tied with thick rope, its thrashing enough to cause chaffing to its wrists and ankles. Its hood had also been pushed back, showing the face of a young man with black hair, albeit with bangs covering feral red eyes that darted around wildly.
The Smoker looked worse off. Both his hands and feet were tied as well, but his tongue was also wrapped around a barbed wire fence, and something was stuck in his mouth, not only to prevent him from biting his appendage off, but also to prevent him from getting enough air. The tumors that usually occupied a Smoker's face also weren't there. It looked as if they had been cut off and had left the entire left side of his face bloody and mishapen.
The Smoker sensed them first. His one good eye slowly opened and looked towards the group. He gave a short wheeze before closing his eye and turning his head away from them.
Bill blinked a few times to regain his composure, before taking a few cautious steps in the direction of the trapped Infected.
"Bill, what are you-" Zoey began, but a finger to his lips told her to be quiet.
He was only able to take a few more steps forward before the Hunter finally noticed him, stopped thrashing, and looked him in the eye. Instead of giving off a warning growl or snapping at the survivor, the Hunter gave a sort of whine and tried to shuffle backwards to no avail.
The veteran's eyes left the Infected and fixed themselves on the bear trap a few feet from the Hunters bloody right leg. He quickly came to the conclusion that the Hunter must have gotten caught in the trap and whoever was here last had managed to tie him up like this.
"Francis, do you have a pocketknife?"
"Yeah, why do you..." The realization dawned on him, "Wait a minute! You plannin' on cuttin' that thing loose? Have you finally lost your mind old man?"
"This 'thing' used to be human. I'm inclined to believe that if we save them, they won't attack us." Before Francis could retaliate, he continued, "Besides, I don't think either of them are in good enough shape to kill us." He held his hand out, expecting the pocketknife.
Francis hesitated for a second before grumbling something incomprehensible, taking a switchblade out of his vest pocket, and putting it in Bill's waiting hand.
Bill crouched down and inched his way towards the Hunter, who proceeded to whine louder and eye the knife with definite fear. When the knife came inches from the Hunter's wrists, the Infected snapped his jaws as far as he could reach towards Bill's outstretched hand.
After retreating his hand for a moment, he called Louis over, "Son, grab his head and hold him down. And put that hood back over his eyes so he can't see me or the knife."
Louis reluctantly put his pistols back in the holsters and bent down near the Hunter's head. With the Hunter's eyes never leaving Bill or the knife, it was easy for Louis to grab and hold his head steady. It was getting the hood back over the struggling Infected's face that was the challenge.
When Louis finally got the Hunter blindfolded, Bill brought the knife close to it's bound limbs again. As soon as the tip of the switchblade touched the rope, he made a quick slicing motion outwards and freed the lethal claws and powerful legs from bondage.
Louis and Bill quickly backed up and away from the Hunter as he sat up and immediately swiped his claws at the air as if attempting to ward off the onlookers.
With their guns reequipped, the Survivors watched as the Hunter got on all fours and crouched towards the forest away from them, before falling back down on its side and yelping in agonizing pain.
"I reckon whoever laid that bear trap out was a former game hunter and has other traps strewn around here. It'd be best to watch our step." Another pained howl. "I think he may have left these two to die here."
As Bill started moving towards the Smoker, Francis's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "Alright hold on old man! Sure you freed the Hunter, but he ain't goin' anywhere. But a Smoker? He'll regrow that tongue, snatch us up, and drag us away in the forest! Now, give me the knife back before you do anything stupid." He extended his hand as Bill had and waited for the knife.
Bill's stare bore into Francis, with the biker not realeasing eye contact as well. That meant that he didn't see Bill's hand slowly moving towards his gun holster before it was too late.
Bill's armed hand aimed at the Smoker's tongue and shot, piercing through the tongue and freeing the Smoker, who dropped to the ground coughing up the unknown object and inhaling large breaths of air.
The veteran tossed the closed knife to Francis, who clumsily caught it and stuffed it back into his vest pocket. Bill had now taken out another cigarrette, lit it, and made his way over to the still wheezing Smoker. Whan he got close, the Infected looked up at him with what Bill thought was a glimmer of humanity and gratefulness in its eye. He turned back to look at the other three, blowing out a puff of smoke in amusement at the expressions of his team.
It was Zoey who made a realization first, "Guys, we have to remember that they're not actual zombies. These Infected are still people. They're just...y'know, Infected. They're sick is all. Bill's right, maybe if we help them, they'll remember that they'e not just mindless zombies."
While Louis seemed to agree, Francis of course still had his doubts, "So you all think that these vampires might actually give a damn? You've got to be kiddin' me! We've been shootin' our way through hordes of these guys, and it only takes a coulpe of helpless specials to make you change your minds? C'mon, these two are no different than-" Francis cut his rant short when he glanced behind Bill. "Watch your back old man!" He shouted with his gun once again at the ready.
Bill turned at Francis's sudden outburst and was met with a now standing Smoker. The veteran briefly wondered how the Smoker had cut itself loose, but he immediately thought it best not to dwell too much on that thought.
The Smoker was still wheezing more than a normal Smoker, and the blood on its face was now slowly dripping and forming a small puddle at its feet. It also looked a bit paler than most of the Infected, but he guessed that was due to the blood loss. The Smoker didn't seem to be in anymore pain though and was content with just standing there watching them.
The Hunter on the other hand, after a brief period of rest, had started trying to stand up as well. Unfortunately, every time it put weight on its right leg, it'd fall back over and whimper in pain.
"Well," Zoey started, "if we're serious about helping them, we might as well try to patch them up a bit right?" With a nod from Bill, she pointed towards the farmhouse. "Then maybe there are supplies in there that we can use."
Before Francis could go on another rant about misusing their supplies though, the Smoker started coughing and goaning before spitting up a mouthful of blood and collapsing in front of them. The Hunter had even stopped whining and looked crestfallen at the loss of its comrade.
"Louis, help me carry him inside the house!" Bill gave orders as he rushed over to the fallen Infected and turned him over onto his back. "Grab his legs and be careful! We don't know if there are anymore bear traps around here." He grabbed the Smoker's shoulders and started carrying him towards the farmhouse.
"What about the Hunter? We can't leave him out here!" Zoey pointed out, casting a pitiful look at the softly whimpering creature.
Bill didn't slow his pace down as he instructed, "If you think you can carry him in, then do it. I'd ask Francis to help you, but chances are he won't do jackshit."
"I'm standing right here old man! I can hear you!" He glared at Bill before turning back to Zoey. "You really want to help this thing? It's just gonna kill us later..." At Zoey's stern look towards him, he submissively put up his hands. "Alright, whatever. But if this thing rips us to shreds in our sleep, don't say I didn't tell you." He finally bent down to assist Zoey into getting the Hunter back on its feet without getting scratched by its menacing claws.
Even though the Hunter had reluctantly let the two lift him up and carry him to the house, his primal instincts wanted so badly to tear into them both, so it was difficult to stop the numerous growls that escaped its throat.
Francis could only sigh, wonder how he got himself in this situation to begin with, and say what had quickly become his catchphrase:
"I hate Hunters."
Author's notes - I'm thinking of making the second chapter a flashback as to what the Infected were treated to before the other Survivors showed up. Reviews are always greatly appreciated! :D