Note: This is the very first Fanfiction I've done, so please: Have mercy on me... XD. And please leave a comment about what you think.
I do not own the Left 4 Dead universe in any ways. All rights belong to Valve. All characters used, is purely fiction. The names of the Special Infected belongs to Valve. Any similarity with any real living person is all coincidence.
Enjoy...
He slowly opened his eyes when the first daylight pierced through the cracks, between the boards covering the windows in the gas station. His back hurt and as far as he could remember, he had only slept for about three hours. He sat up and looked around. There wasn't anything of use in here, it must have been looted several days ago. But at least he had shelter in here. From the things out there. He stood up and put on his winter jacket. He kept telling himself that it was too tick for their bites. He knew he was wrong. The bag lay on the floor, next to a desk in the back of the station. It was pretty clean in here, considering what he had seen other places. The bag was very light. Unfortunately. There was some cereals, which he ate for breakfast. He thought of his little girls. How happy they had been, just two weeks ago. He could fell tears on his cheeks, when he slowly took the gun from the bag.
"For the love of god!"
Terrance was yelling again. As always.
"Why the hell do we move so slow!"
Hardy sighed.
She was starting to get sick of him. All he did was complain. But they needed each other to survive. Hardy wished she had been military trained or something like that, so that she could take care of herself and didn't have to stick with Terrance.
Terrance, the hillbilly with the rotten teeth and the smell of pigs. He had red hair and a shotgun over his shoulder.
If it weren't because Hardy was such a bad shot and he wasn't, she had definitely left him behind. Left him for dead.
The street was empty except for a few "sleepwalkers" over by a big truck.
They had both decided not to waste bullets on them, unless they got aware of their presence. Which these ones clearly hadn't.
One of them gave them a careless look, but that was all.
Terrance opened Hardy's backpack.
"Shit, we're gonna need to find some food.."
Terrance sighed "Which probably will be impossible"
Hardy tried to cheer him up: "I know a dinner, just around the corner over there."
She pointed at the end of the street.
"That settles it! Let's get moving"
Terrance started running towards the end of the street, then suddenly stopped. Hardy slowly walked up by his side.
"Wha.."
"Shh!"
Terrance held a hand over her mouth, "Can you hear that?"
Hardy shoved his hand away and listened.
And then she could hear the mad, coughing laughter.
They both heard the stories from another group of survivors they met once.
This laughter meant, that something called a Jockey was nearby. It had been described as a little, crippled and pale creature, which had a nasty habit of jumping onto the shoulders of a person and "ride" them around like an animal.
Hardy didn't want to find out if that was true.
They raised their firearms and waited for it to come around the corner.
"I'll take the first shot," Terrance whispered
"If I miss, you back me up"
Hardy nodded slowly. She didn't like the pressure.
The laughter came closer.
Then a small, disgusting, old man came around the corner.
He (or it was more suitable) had ripped clothes and was bend over, so that it was no taller than a cat. It ran incredibly fast, considering its height and it had blood all over its chin.
It raised its arms and bent down in its knees, when the sound of a gunshot suddenly ripped through the air.
Blood splattered from the creatures forehead, where a big hole had appeared. The Jockey immediately fell backwards and the hit the ground, with a most unpleasant sound.
Smoke came from the barrel of Terrance's gun.
He lowered his rifle.
"Now let's go get some food" He acted like nothing had happened at all.