Chapter One: the Survivors

It was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the footfalls of the four who trekked down the deserted highway. Abandoned cars with broken windows littered the road, smashed into each other, or just deserted with doors open wide. The hot sun beat down on the pavement, and in the distance the road shimmered like water in a blurred mirage. Insects droned, whizzing by the four travellers. The silence was tense, and made all four uneasy. The crunch of a pebble under someone's boot seemed unbearably loud. Suddenly the silence was broken by soft whistling, some tuneless melody.

"Shut up, Ellis."

The whistling stopped, and the silence fell again. Tufts of grass growing in the cracks of the paved road blew gently with the slight breeze that was welcomed by the four survivors.

The whistler was a young man probably near his mid-twenties. He was fit, not so very tall, with dirty-blond, curly hair sticking out from under an old baseball cap. His bright blue eyes looked a bit dejected at being ordered to keep quiet, as he scanned the road. He wore a soiled, faded t-shirt and overalls, the top half tied around his waist, instead of around his shoulders. The whistler, or Ellis, as was his name, had a boyish face with just the slightest indication of needing a shave. He wore heavy work boots that clomped on the pavement just a tad louder than the others. In his oil-smudged hands, he carried a shotgun.

The harsh voice that snapped at him belonged to an older and slightly taller man, probably mid-thirties, nearing forty. He had shortly cropped brown hair, and muddy greenish eyes. His face was in a permanent expression of irritation, with the sliver of a scar on his forehead above his left eye. He needed a shave, his jaw covered with bristles. The most striking thing about him, was his attire. A fancy suit, blazer and slacks, which might have once upon a time been the color white. It was no longer white, in fact it was nearing an ugly yellowish color, covered in stains. The pant legs in particular were nearly brown with mud and sludge. His blue shirt collar was open a bit, sweat gleaming on his forehead under the hot yellow sun. He held a submachine gun in his hands, pointing it forward, ready to fire at a moments notice.

The man in the suit lead the way, with Ellis behind him, and the last two following up from the rear. The other two companions walked in silence, keeping a watchful eye on the sides of the road. They all walked as if at any moment, something might leap out at them from behind a car or from the ditch on the side of the road. In truth, that was exactly what could happen. The Infected were out there, somewhere, waiting for them. The disease that spread all over the nation, possibly all over the world had turned nearly every single bit of humanity into raving, savage monsters. Thousands upon thousands of the creatures were hunting down anything remotely alive and devouring them in a frenzy. This group of four, these Survivors, were determined not to die, at least, not today.

The man at the rear was a tall, broad shoulder black man, with a good-natured face. The purple sports polo shirt he wore was a bit tight for his large chest and shoulders. He looked as if he might have been a hulking football player in his younger days, though he was probably close to forty years old now. His massive hands carried a heavy rifle, making it look like a child's toy. He was heavy-set, probably a bit overweight, but he'd lost quite a bit of weight since the Infection broke out. Constantly running for your life, and the scarcity of food is a great diet plan. Exercise and less calorie-intake always worked. He was on his way to looking trim and fit if they weren't rescued or eaten soon. His hazel eyes looked up at the three ahead of him, the man in the white suit, the young Ellis, and the only female in their group.

She was short and slender with smooth brown skin and large brown eyes. Wearing a bright pink top and blue jeans, she carried an automatic rifle in her hands. Her coal black hair was pulled back away from her face, her expression grim and determined. Though she was small, all three of the men knew she was one tough little lady, and she didn't let them forget it either. She was probably in her late twenties, with almond-shaped eyes dark and confident. Her jean-clad slender legs gave way to wide hips, and slim waist. Her shirt was splotched with stains of blood and mud. The woman walked down the highway, a sigh escaping her pink rose-colored lips at the dejected Ellis.

"He's just nervous, Nick.", she scolded the man in the white suit. "We all are…", she added under her breath, her voice soft and low.

"I'm not nervous.", denied the suit-clad Nick. "When I'm in the mood for tone-deaf hick music, I'll let you know.", he said sarcastically.

Ellis pursed his lips, "Dang, Nick… You get touchy when yer nervous, don't ya?", he said with a broad grin.

The big black man's deep chuckling laughter drifted from behind them. "I'm NOT nervous.", Nick snapped again, turning around to glare at the big man bringing up the rear. "How you doin' back there, Coach? I can hear you wheezing all the way from up here, Fat A-"

"Alright Nick! That's enough. Everyone calm down!", barked the little female.

"Aw, Rochelle…", piped up Ellis. "Nick's just funnin'. Ain't ya Nick?", asked the young man with his drawling southern accent.

The man in the white suit spun around stopping in front of him, his eyes blazing. "Do I look like I'm funnin', Ellis? Do I? Huh? Do I?"

The southern boy lowered his eyes, mumbling something unintelligible. An awkward, tense silence fell over the group, as Nick glared at them all. All four were silent, for a long time, before Nick turned around and continued down the highway. The others followed in grim silence again. All four of them were covered with stains, dirt, and grime, their clothes torn and frayed. They certainly looked rather worse for wear, but it was the zombie apocalypse. How did you expect them to look? As for them, they figured they were doing pretty good. They were Survivors, they were all alive… for now.

[Author's Note]

This is a little story I've started about the L4D2 characters. I plan on bringing some original characters of my own as well. Just gonna have some fun with it.
This takes place about a month after their "rescue".

Thanks to my proofreader, Watson :)

~ NevermoreQ