Hello again! Long time, no see! I know I should be updating all my other stories, but it's hard to do that when you work a full-time job. Oh well, that's my excuse anyway.
Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this little story I wrote.
Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or any of the characters.
"How much further is it to the safe house?" Louis asked as he and his three companions kneeled down against the wall of a building. They were all exhausted from running and the sun was setting, making the cold Pennsylvania air feel even colder. The analyst rubbed his hands together and breathed on them as Zoey pulled back the sleeve of her jacket.
"We're still pretty far out," the college girl replied, examining the makeshift map written on her forearm. "It's supposed to be in an old chapel next to a cemetery."
Bill rolled his eyes. "Of course, it is. Perfect location if we get our asses handed to us," the old man said after taking a long drag from his cigarette.
The black man scoffed at the war vet's comment. "Forever the optimist, eh, Bill?" He earned a weary look from the old man and turned his attention to Francis, whom didn't seem to be paying attention. "Francis, are ya in there?"
The biker snapped out of his momentary stupor and glared at the other man. "I'm listening," he replied gruffly, looking past the group to the wooded area before them. "I'm just watchin' the road."
"Probably a good thing. We're sitting ducks right now," Zoey murmured as she glanced behind her. It was a bit too quiet in her opinion and she hated the idea of staying next to that wall for much longer. "How 'bout we move on? We're not accomplishing anything by hangin' out here."
"Zoey's right. We need to find shelter fer the night or at least some more bullets," Bill added as he slowly stood back up. He moved further down the wall and steadied his pistol before peeking out beyond the corner. "Hmm, I don't see anything in the road. Should be safe."
"You say that and watch-we'll probably get jumped by a hoard of hungry zombies," the biker said sarcastically, pretending to nibble on Louis.
The analyst swatted him away and shook his head. "Seriously, man? Don't jinx us like that!" He ignored the raspberry Francis blew at him and gazed down the snowy road. He furrowed his brow as he took in the tree line. "Who has the most bullets left?"
Everyone pulled out their guns and checked their chambers. "I've only got a pistol," the war veteran said and looked over at Francis as he nodded in agreement.
"I've got plenty of bullets for both my guns," Zoey replied as she held up her pistol and automatic shotgun and turned to Louis. "Do you want me to lead?"
"You and Francis. Bill and I can take up the rear," Louis replied with a nod. "We should take stock of everything else we have, too. Anybody got a pipe bomb?"
The other three shook their heads.
"All I got is a lighter and some matches," Bill said, patting his front jacket pocket. "We can use 'em once we find one or somethin' to make a Molotov."
"Sounds good," the analyst said. "Health packs, pills?"
Francis pulled a bottle from his vest and tossed it to the black man. "That's all I could find."
Louis pocketed the pills, his lips pursing into a straight line. "We'll have to raid any houses or buildings we come across on the way. We need more supplies," he reasoned and looked back down the street. Still no Infected... This might be too good to be true, he thought to himself and turned his attention back to the group. "I don't think it's gonna get any clearer than this. You guys ready?" His companions nodded as they readied their guns and the four made their way into the road.
The air was much brisker in the open. It was evident by the tiny puffs of their breath floating on the breeze as they hustled down the unpaved road.
"Guys? I don't like this," Zoey said as she looked over her shoulder. "Something doesn't seem right."
"It's too quiet," Bill replied in a low voice, his eyes darting from side to side.
Francis breathed out a laugh. "Take a chill pill. Maybe the damn things are on a smoke break," he joked, eying the old man cheekily.
"Ha ha. Very funny, Francis. Can't you be serious for two seconds?" the analyst scolded, his head whipping to the side at the sound of twigs snapping moments later. "Guys, be on the lookout. I don't think we're alone."
"Break's over," the tattooed man grumbled.
A small house appeared on the horizon with a few abandoned cars littering the road. Wind ripped through the trees, whistling as it blew the leaves from their branches, but the tell-tale sound of coughing could be heard all around them. Like a frog snatching an insect from the air, a discolored tongue flew past Francis and grabbed Zoey by the neck with a sickening crack, dragging her body swiftly toward the woods.
"Zoey!" the war veteran cried as he ran after her, shooting bullets blindly toward the source of the tongue. Francis and Louis followed suit, picking off the Infected that ran toward the old man; but one of their stray bullets hit a nearby car, causing its security alarm to go off.
"Shit," Louis said under his breath as the car's horn echoed through the trees and its lights flickered orange against the snow. The dull roar of the Infected grew in the distance; the undead masses would be upon them soon.
"Bill, we gotta head to shelter now!" Francis yelled as he grabbed hold of the old man's arm.
Bill ignored his statement and continued to shoot in the direction of where the Smoker dragged their female companion. "Nothin' doin'. I'm not leavin' her!"
The biker turned Bill around and looked him dead in the eyes. "Bill, she's gone."
"C'mon, guys! If we don't get to that house, we're all gonna die!" Louis yelled above the wind and took a few steps back, nearly tripping over a cylindrical object. What the-a pipe bomb!
"Guys, heads up!"
Francis caught the pipe bomb as it hurtled toward them and quickly handed it off to the older man. "Light this sucker up and let's go!"
Sounds of a pistol rang through the air as the hoard drew nearer, Louis shooting what he could as he watched the war vet light the bomb and toss it in the direction from which they first came. The three men hustled toward the run-down house as droves of the Infected ran past them to get to the beeping tube. Just as they slammed the door shut, an explosion shook the structure.
Louis slid down the door and breathed out a sigh. "We made it. We actually made it!"
"Not all of us did," Bill murmured as he sank down into a chair, holding his face in his hands.
The biker and the analyst looked at one another, unsure of what to say or do. "Bill, there wasn't anything we could do," Louis tried as Francis stood uncomfortably against the door.
The old man raised his head and stared at Louis with tired, angry eyes. "Yeah, there was. We could've protected her better by not puttin' her in the front," he replied accusingly.
Louis threw his hands up defensively. "Hey, don't turn this on me!I didn't hear you complaining about it!" he argued. "Besides that Smoker could've gotten any one of us. We're lucky to be alive, Bill."
"Lucky? Ya call this lucky? Fightin' to survive in this shithole is far from bein' lucky, kid," Bill said as he got to his feet and approached the black man. "That girl was only nineteen years old. Nineteen. She had her whole life ahead of her and we-we could've saved her!" He turned his eyes to the tattooed man and narrowed his eyes. "We should've saved her."
Francis was through with being quiet as he gritted his teeth and stared the old man down. "Bill, there was nothing to save! That Smoker killed Zoey," he growled. "That freak snapped her neck! I was right next to her! I heard it break." The other two men gawked at the biker in shock as he stared down at the wooden floor. "I'm sorry, but she's gone. She was gone long before the hoard showed up."
A stifled sob escaped Bill's lips as he stumbled back into the chair, his whole body seeming to shake. "I-it can't be... She-s-she can't be," he managed as his throat tightened. His eyes, wide with horror and realization, turned to the ground as tears fell down his ruddy cheeks and he cupped his mouth. "She's gone... She's gone..."
Francis placed on Louis's shoulder and he motioned toward the door. "C'mon, let's leave him be. We need to get this place barricaded," he said in a low voice, earning a nod from the analyst.
The old man vaguely listened to their retreating footsteps as he stared off into space. All he could see was Zoey's sweet face. Unintelligible words fell from Bill's mouth as he got to his feet and walked toward the door. Without so much as a goodbye, the war veteran left the house and stared out into the darkness, a frigid wind blowing hard against him as he descended the front steps. Ya won't be alone fer long, Zoey.
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