Hello friends and welcome to the first chapter of my second story titled Left 4 Dead: New Chronicles, first and foremost I want to say for anyone who hasn't read my first story ALIEN ISOLATION: NOT ALONE, please go check it out on page, secondly this chapter was actually finished about four months ago, now I've tweaked it a little to make it a little more in tune with the overall tone of Left 4 Dead. For those wondering why Left 4 Dead? It's because for the most part it's almost Halloween my favorite holiday, and Left 4 Dead is one my all time favorite games, not so much Left 4 Dead 2 (no offense to all my L4D2 fans out there! I just have a very nostalgic feel with the game, and some of the first fan fiction I ever read was Left 4 Dead fan fictions, anyway enough about me onto the first chapter, hope y'all enjoy!

LEFT 4 DEAD/LEFT 4 DEAD 2 are property of VALVE.

LEFT 4 DEAD: NEW CHRONICLES

CHAPTER 1: A Mindless Routine

Two weeks, that's all it had been since the first infection, two weeks, to be precise it had been 15 days, twelve hours, seven minutes, thirteen...fourteen...fifteen seconds and counting since the first instances and reports of the disease that would come to be known as the "Green Flu" first appeared.

But, for others it felt like more than two weeks, it felt like a lifetime of change had occurred in only a short period. Thousands, maybe even millions had become infected by this disease, and before anyone could blink most of the eastern seaboard dropped out of contact with rest of the United Sates. By the end of the first week major cities such as New York, Boston, Charlotte, Miami, and even Washington D.C., had fallen, countless attempts were made to retake these cherished lands, but to no avail.

The disease itself killed the host, and then would regenerate the body causing the host to become a mindless zombie, and like bloodthirsty animals, the zombies would attack anything with a heartbeat, this discovery of course made the situation for those left behind worse…much worse.

As the second week came to a close the country was slowly falling apart as most of the country had gone dark communication wise, no one was really sure what areas were safe. Pennsylvania was one of the many states that had begun to flicker in and out existence; most of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh were under siege.

Two cities seemed to have fared better than most however, Fairfield and Riverside; the two cities were practically next door neighbors in terms of how close they were. In between the two cities was a small town, that didn't really have a name, it was just simply known as the turnpike, though some people called it FairSide due to its proximity to both cities.

The town itself consisted of a police station, a fire station, a gas station, and more recently a military checkpoint, a military checkpoint that had been over run, yet eventually left alone by zombies. Many of the lights inside the town remained on, which was odd considering the fact that everyone who once called it home was gone, well except for one man.

He was about 27 years old, a little over 6'1 with a slim build, he wore an old black and grey hoodie, black jeans with kneepads from an old sports store over each knee, black army boots laced and caked with blood and other forms of gore. His hair a hazel shade, shortly cut, with the front part in a solid wave shape thanks to the constant presence of blood, bile, and God knows what other substances and liquids that no human being should have to endure, black fingerless gloves, and a digital watch he "borrowed" from a corpse that had no further use for it.

He walked through the deserted town gunning down the stray zombie or two, the zombie population was around eight hundred from what he gathered, but he rarely encountered many large groups, he had carefully carved out a path through FairSide that both kept him away from the so-called "hotspots" in the town, but also kept him guided during the night on the stray occasion in which the power would fail along the path. He carries with him a M16A4 the most modern update of the classic assault rifle, though to be honest he preferred the M4 due to its compactness, and light weight body, though he knew the likelihood of finding one of those babies was few and far between. In his side arm holster he carried a M1911 pistol, the one his father gave him for his 21st birthday; he carries on his back a pack which houses medical supplies and extra ammo.

The man's name is Jake Valentine, the youngest (by a few seconds) of a pair of twins, born and raised in Riverside him and his sister Jill (get it?) grew up there, once they reached adulthood they went into separate career paths Jill going into law enforcement and him into the Marine Corps, he served a few tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, his last tour ended in late 2007, he suffered severe wounds earlier that same year, an ambush had given him some nasty scares on his mid section, and he spent a few months in rehab before being given a honorable discharge near the end of December, just in time for the holidays, he returned home to his parents and his ex-fiancée Jenny, she had chosen to dump him while he was in Iraq a fact not known to him till after he returned home to St. Mary's, Pennsylvania (about a three miles south of FairSide).

He got himself a place, and despite his injuries was considering going into the police academy to follow his sister to the Midwest, but unfortunately the zombie apocalypse put a solid stop to those plans, by the time the last two weeks had passed, both his parents were dead, most of his friends were dead, Jenny was dead, and he had no idea if his sister was alive or not, he walked through the streets whose names were lost to sudden decay. He marched into his safe house the old police station, closing the red safety doors, he places his rifle outside his room, which he assumed was the chief's office, the office consisted of a mirror, a mahogany desk which consisted of a map of the local area, and also a few pistols.

Jake looked in the mirror and stared at the man who looked back at him in the glass, almost unrecognizable; he had formed a beard which covered his face in a scruffy unkempt, tangled mess. Jake knew that for all intents and purposes his world had fallen apart, the apocalypse had come, technically a beard was almost a requirement for the post apocalyptic world, but Jake wasn't really a fan, he'd always kept a clean shaven face, but with recent events he hadn't had the chance to really stay on top of his style game.

He begrudgingly moved to the locker room in the basement of the station, he searched the locker he had procured for himself when he first secured the safe house a week ago, once he had a dug out the shaving cream and razor he headed to the showers for a quick wash, as he let the "warm" water fall over his body he ran through the coming night in his head. He knew that at some point he was going to have to head to the radio station for his nightly "routine", but before that he probably was going to restock in the armory.

As he exited the shower he felt refreshed, but still felt a slight sting of sorrow go through his mind and body, for the most part Jake was alone, with the exception of his undead friends, as he layered the shaving cream across his bearded face, he looked down at the straight razor to his right on the bathroom countertop, erratic thoughts fill his head, he could end this right now, join his friends and family, escape this hellish world, Jake shook the thoughts out of his head muttering a silent "no", he went to work with his face, taking the tangles of unkempt brown hair off with precision and efficiency.

Once his face was clean, he looked like a new man, or at least a more confident man. He got dressed into the clothes he had on before, and headed to the armory, feeling like some target practice he grabbed a hunting rifle, as well as his M16, he grabbed extra ammo as well, and more medical supplies, he hesitated at first, but he had a funny feeling he'd need them. He looked back at his safe house one more time before opening the back door and heading to the radio station.

Jake encountered a few stray zombies, he'd "killed" about twenty of them by the time he'd made it to the radio station, he immediately moved into the primary radio booth, he turned a few switches and pressed a few buttons activating the studio's equipment, the reason for this "routine" was to cause the zombies in the town to cluster up around various points in the town, in theory this would make getting back to the safe house easier as well as scavenging nearby gun stores, gas stations and other locations for supplies. Jake had placed large radios in various hotspots around the town.

Jake had established this routine shortly after he lost his parents, his first goal was survival, and isolating the enemy made more sense. Jake sits down at the main DJ chair after locking the door, he holds a pistol on the desk, and waits a few seconds before yelling into the microphone in front of him.

"Gooooood evening ghouls and goblins, zhuls and zombies, this is the ultimate ladies man Jake Valentine, here live and in color, it's currently 9:00 O'clock and we're gonna be with you for the next three hours, we'll start this lovely night off with The Midnight Riders and their number one hit that was on the charts for five minutes, I CAN'T SHOOT, BUT I CAN DRINK" Jake yells as he presses a button, the metal song blasts through the town attracting zombies from all over they gather around and stare at the general area the radios are in, the radios are hidden to protect them from being destroyed by the stray tank or two. Jake kicked his feet up and laid back into the chair, closing his eyes temporarily as he took the headphones off. He was at peace at least for a few moments, little did he know in nearby Fairfield, things were anything, but peaceful…

Fairfield, Pennsylvania.

Mercy Hospital Rooftop

A group of four survivors, Louis an office worker, Francis a biker, Zoey a college student and Bill a Vietnam veteran, fight off hordes of bloodthirsty zombies. They had just contacted a nearby helicopter that was flying out survivors, the helicopter was running late on fuel, and knew this would be his last trip, he was about five minutes out, meanwhile the survivors had positioned themselves behind a sandbag wall, for them this would be the longest five minutes of their lives.

Five Minutes Till Rescue…

"Alright people rescue's coming, just keep your fingers on your triggers and we'll be just fine" Bill yells lighting up another cigarette

"Where else am I going to put my fingers Bill?" Francis yells back as he shoots a zombie with his shotgun, loading more shells into it.

"Francis…I swear sometimes I wonder if you'd sniffed glue" Louis says as he tosses a Molotov into a group of zombies to his right.

"Oh shut the hell up Louis…at least I don't scream like a girl when I see a witch" Francis yells back as he guns down a zombie that was about to clock Louis, Louis ducks and looks behind him giving Francis a thankful nod, Francis laughs a little as he loads his shotgun again.

Four Minutes Till Rescue…

"Hey guys…can we you know focus please….I'm starting to run low on ammo" Zoey yells as she loads her second to last magazine into her hunting rifle. She spots something down her sights that makes her sputter a hushed curse.

"Tank!" she screams as the three other men look at the behemoth running towards them from across the rooftop, knocking other zombies out of the way.

"Shit!" They all collectively say

Three Minutes Till Rescue…

"Open up!" Bill says as the four survivors fire everything they have into the coming beast, the group splits up into pairs Louis and Zoey to the left, Francis and Bill to the right.

The tank chases Bill and Francis who ironically cause the tank the most damage. Meanwhile Louis and Zoey round a corner taking cover and gunning down the remaining zombies. Zoey loads her "last mag" taking a mental note.

Two Minutes Till Rescue…

"Jesus Christ…this asshole's persistent!" Francis yells as he loads several more point blank slugs into the beast as he and Bill take cover from the tank who yells in anger and pain at them.

Meanwhile, Zoey and Louis come up with a plan.

"Okay if we can lure him over here….we'd give them time to recover….but then we'd deal with the damn thing" Louis says shaking his head and loading another clip into his Uzi.

"Louis…you still have that pipebomb?" Zoey asks as she fires at a stray zombie.

"Yeah why?"

"We can use it to distract the tank, maybe even kill it"

"How the hell would we do that?"

"I need you to throw it as close as you can to the tank, when it gets close enough, I'll shoot the bomb and it will blow right next to the bastard" Zoey finalizes the plan

"Shit girl…this world's making you almost as crazy as Bill and Francis combined…" Louis says shaking his head, as he follows Zoey around the corner.

One Minute Till Rescue…

Louis and Zoey take position about fifty feet away from the tank who doesn't notice them, the tank searches for Francis and Bill who are around the corner behind a heavy metal wall. Bill sees Zoey and Louis out of the corner of his eye, as clutches his Molotov with one hand and a lighter in the other.

Louis and Zoey nod, as Zoey lines up a shot.

"Hey shithead! Eat this!" Louis yells as he throws the pipebomb, the tank turns around, the pipebomb bounces off its chest, Zoey fires her final shot, it hits the pipebomb which explodes, burning and damaging the tank severely, for the final blow Bill rushes out from around the corner and throws the lit Molotov right in the Tank's face, it tumbles and trips from the sudden blast of fire and heat, blinded by the Molotov, the survivors lay into the behemoth with all the shots they can muster, Zoey now firing with her duel pistols. The tank is slowly pushed back by the shots, and finally falls off the roof. The survivors look over the edge of the roof with happy and exhausted looks of shock and joy. Before they can say a word the rescue helicopter arrives, and the doors open.

"Come on get in!" The pilot yells over speaker of the helicopter. The group briskly walks up to the helicopter, Louis, Zoey and Francis move into the chopper, but just as Bill is about to get in, a smoker suddenly wraps it's tongue around his waist, he's heaved away slowly, Bill's wrist are grabbed by Francis, the helicopter begins to take off regardless, Louis shoots at the smoker with all he's got, finally the smoker drops dead, but now Bill hangs from Francis' arms as the helicopter lifts into the air, the smoker's limp body threatening to drag Bill down to earth. Zoey shoots the tongue of the smoker causing it to detach from Bill's body, Bill drops slightly as Francis lies down inside the chopper, Louis and Zoey hold on to Francis legs. The big man struggles to lift Bill into the chopper, but with some help from Louis he finally gets the old man into the cabin, Zoey hugs Bill lightly, as Francis shuts the door.

"Now let's get the fuck outta here" Bill says as the group settles in to their seats. Little did they know they weren't leaving hell, just taking a detour to another part of it, a part that would lead them to a new adventure and a new friend.