-I dont own Left 4 Dead.

-Cant quite remember how I got the idea for this lil story.

-Enjoi

It was only a matter of time before this happened. With the horribly cold and wet weather they had been having and the physical excursion they put themselves through it was a surprise that they hadn't gotten themselves killed let alone lasted this long without getting seriously injured. But alas it happened, one of the survivors had caught a cold.

Zoey coughed into the semi-clean rag to limit the noise she made. Tucked into the only sleeping bag in the safe room, sweating profusly and breathing heavily.

"You'll be alright girl, soon as ya sweat out that fever." Gruffed out Bill as he cleaned his gun. Zoey faintly nodded, acknowledging his words. It was strange being sick with these three in her opinion but not very surprising. Louis had taken up the role as mother hen since she had collapsed during their dash into the safe room. Keeping cool damp rags on her forehead, giving her what little medicine they had, things like that.

Bill on the other had took up the role of what Zoey decided was either uncle or grandfather. He would sit in that creaky old chair cleaning his gun and reading instruction manuals they had found in the storage unit of a safe room and tell old war stories. She wasn't sure if she liked it but appreciated his choice to tell her gruesome bedtime stories, which he got yelled at by Francis for.

As for said biker, he was probably the least involved of the three men. He would work out in 'his' corner by doing push ups and other excercises of the sort, polish his shoes or clean his gun like Bill. Zoey could tell he was getting frustrated by being cooped up in this room with nothing to do or shoot in days. She was worried he would get cabin fever soon and cause a comotion, those tend to attract infected.

Zoey held in a sigh, since Bill had outlawed them the other week threatening to hit the next person who sighes with the butt of his gun. She doubted he would while she was in her current condition but opted against it all the same. Rolling her head over to the otherside to stare at the cement wall Zoey decided to try to sleep for the rest of the night, considering sunset was less than an hour away, not that you could see the sun in the downpour outside. She prayed to whatever God was listening that her fever would break by tomorrow and that they could leave soon, she hated feeling like she was holding the others back. It wasn't said but Zoey knew she was the weak link in their chain, didn't stop her from doing the most she could for the group though but her getting sick was probably one of the worst things she could have done to them in her opinion.

Zoey woke up with her throat dry and swollen, she reached for her bottled water beside her sleeping bag and eagerly took several swigs from it. Looking through the bars on the red steel she could see the full moon glow bright as it peeked through the lingering rain clowds. Glad it had stopped raining, Zoey fell back onto her flat sleeping bag and listened to the nights sounds. Wishing they were in the rural area of Conneticut so she could at least hear crickets or a bullfrog in the backround, all she could hear was the echoes of the infected moaning not too far away on the street. She had begun to accept them in her life now and that fact alone made her heart sink. She layed for a few minutes before she was able to hear whispering. Without moving Zoey had noticed none of the other survivors were on this side of the safe room. They were behind her on the other side of the shelf deviding the room in half, huddled together in quiet conversation.

"I think she's asleep again." Said Louis softy.

"I don't care if she is asleep, she's holding us back!" Francis growled quietly. Zoey's heart sank.

"Francis!" Scolded Bill. "In a world like this, no man gets left for dead!" He said proudly, Zoey could hear Louis agree. She was glade that they were at least trying to keep her around.

"Do you know how long we've been here? A week! and every day more and more of those monsters show up and park their asses out front. There's already a small horde outside and her coughing and wreaking of weakness attracts them!" Argued the bald biker. Zoey couldn't think she could feel more like shit than she did right now.

"Well I don't see you doin' anything to make her better!" Barked back Louis in a hushed tone. Great, they were only being nice to her so she could get better sooner.

"Yeah, and if your so concerned about the infected outside why dont you make a molovtove, there's plenty of ingrediants in here to make 'em. Hell, start shooting from between the bars for all I care." Said Bill.

"I've already made about twenty! They're in that box over there!" Said Francis motioning to the box on the shelf, clearly getting annoyed. Finally, Zoey had heard enough.

"You know what Francis?!" She said somewhat raspingly. "As weak as I may be I would never leave you behind in this hell hole to rot! So you can shove it up your ass and wait another two days because sick or not we're tailing it outta here!" Zoey said fiercely, startling a few of the closer infected making them growl in aggression. Aside from the angry zombies the safe room was quiet with fumming survivors.

"Grahhhrah!"

"Oh shut up!" Growled Francis as he grabbed his shotgun and sticking it between the bars before firing off a few rounds. After a few of the infected were killed off, Zoey had expected Francise to chill out, maybe lean against the wall and silently resent her but instead he started grabbing as much ammo as he could and reloading his gun. Good thing they raided a nearby gun shop the other night, they were running seriously low on supplies. Zoey could recall how sluggish they felt carrying off backpacks full of ammo, guns and explosives as they ran out of the dishevield shop down the luckily abandoned street.

"What are ya doin' Francis?" Asked Bill in a strained tone.

"What's it look like old man?" Barked the tattooed biker as he grabbed a molotove and threw it through the bars, towards a group of infected. They ran around while ablaze, crying in the otherwise silent night while their flesh burned.

"It looks like your getting ready to head out." Said Louise incredulously.

"Wow, you really are smart!" He said as he grabbed a few health packets and pipe bombs.

"Don't be dumb Francis." Said Zoey sitting up in her sleeping bag.

"Sleep tight Princess." He drawled out before removing the bar on the red steel door and swinging it open. Zoey could see him look back with determination in his eyes as he slammed the heavy door shut.

"Keep the bar in until I get back." He ordered before turning his back and running down the street.

"Shit." said the frail girl under her breath.

"Well," Continued Zoey. "Aren't you guys going to go get him?" She asked. The old vet shook his head.

"If he wants to go out and risk his life to blow off some steam let him. Doubt that any common infected could kill him anyways." He said as he stared in the distance through the steel bars. Zoey sat there in disbelief, hearing rounds of his shotgun go off in the distance made her seriously worried. Both she and Bill stared at the door with unwavering eyes she hardly noticed Louis messing around with their medical supplies.

"Here, take this." He ordered Zoey, and like an obediant child she blindingly took the several spoonfuls of nasty tasting medicine. Not another word was said inside the room, just the faint echos of the beeping pipe bombs and the firing of Francis' shotgun. Zoey hadn't even felt tired until she noticed she was on her back staring at the cieling. That bastard Louis slipped her some Nyquil.

"Louis ...you pansy." She croaked as her world turned black.

Scraping.

Zoey was woken up by the sound of scraping.

She welcomed the quiet sound much more than the moaning and growling of the infected. It was early, probably around five. The sun was fairly close to the horizon giving off a slight morning glow. Zoey looked around to find Bill leaning up against the wall by the barricaded red door sound asleep. Louis was the same she guessed, being behind the shelving unit she couldn't see him.

"Come on you dumb door." She heard in a low gruff tone. She nearly gasped, did he really make it back alright?

"Francis?" She asked in a raspy, disbelieving tone. It instantly became quiet once she breathed out his name.

"Yeah, It's me." He said begrudgingly. Slowly and achingly Zoey freed herself from the clingy sleeping blanket and made her way to the door. She did her best not to waiver dispite how light headed she felt. A wave of relief was felt at the sight of his tired and battered body. Leaning against the cement building and panting was the man she would have been worried sick over all night, if it werent for Louis drugging her. She hurridly unlocked the heavy steel door and swung it open, ushering a limping biker in Zoey could get a better look at him.

The man was covered in sweat and mud and there was traces of boomer bile on his boots, claw marks and smoker saliva across his dirty jeans and vest. Francis also had scrapes and scratches practically everywhere, and a particular nasty gash along his forehead made her especially worried.

"Are you alright?" Asked the ex-college student as she relocked the door, taking a glance outside she couldn't see or hear not one infected. "Where did you go?" She asked in a hushed tone so not to alert the other two survivors.

Francis gave out a groan as Zoey helped him sit against the cold cement wall of the safe room, it was more than obvious what kind of night he had. Zoey hadn't noticed until just now that the aggressive man infront of her had a grocery bag tied around his belt. Tearing her gaze but letting her curiosity wander she grabbed a med case and began rummaging through its contents.

"So what's in the bag?" Asked Zoey as she poured Peroxide on gauze and began dabbing his wounds. He hissed as the chemical fizzed around his open scratches on his face. Francis grabbed the wet gauze from Zoey and untied the bag from his waist, handing it to her as he got up and re-positioned himself in 'his' corner and continued the job that Zoey had started. Thouroughly bewildered she untied the tight knot the biker had tied it in. It was heavy and clinked together telling her it was some sort of metal. Grabbing one of them and pulling it out of the bag she couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Chicken noodle soup?" Half laughed Zoey.

Did he seriously almost die from almost a hundred infected crazed creatures to bring back two cans of chicken noodle soup? She looked back to Francis who just leaned against the wall and dabbed his wounds.

"You risked your life for chicken noodle soup?" She asked incredulously and continuously staring at him. The older tattered man just shrugged.

"Don't ever say I didn't do nothin' for ya kid." He said with his eyes closed. Zoey couldn't help but smile, this whole night just seemed insane to her. Without thinking she clumsily walked over and pulled Francis into a one sided hug making him jump. She didn't have to look at him to know he was probably holding back a blush at her uncharacteristic display of affection.

"All right thats enough of this touchy feely crap, get off before ya get me sick!" Barked Francis embarrased as he gently pushed Zoey off of his large frame. She kept her weak smile on her face as she placed the bag of soup at the end of her sleeping bag and crawled in.

"Thanks Francis." Zoey said as she happily settled in her sleeping bag. For the first night since the outbreak of the civilization destroying virus, Zoey was able to fall asleep without the growling and moaning of infected. The only sound within the small secure room was the exhale of her male companions and a cough from Francis.

-I thought it would be ironic if Francis caught her cold after all that.

-sparxXx