AN: Hello everyone! Take a seat, sit back, and relax. Ready for a scare? Well, this ain't exactly gonna be one. If it is, great! If it isn't, I'm not gonna worry too much about it. The purpose for this fic is to show all of you my idea of how Left 4 Dead (L4D) started. I'm pretty sure many of you are familiar with this video game, and if not, you haven't had the experience of a lifetime just yet. So go learn and play! Everyone else, I hope you enjoy my first, actually dedicated/committed-to, fanfic ever! (Yeah, I'm not so good with dedicating time to most of my stories, bite me.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead! You have Valve Corporation to thank for their brilliance. Also, the titles of the chapters are not mine! They belong to the scenes of 28 Days Later, which I unfortunately don't own either. I do, however, own a copy of the game for the 360 and the movie which kicks MAJOR ASS! :D

Before the 4

By: Zhadist

I. Exposure

I have a problem but I cannot explain,

I have no reason why it should have been so plain,

Have no questions but I sure have excuse,

I lack the reason why I should be so confused…

-Roulette by System of a Down

"How can this get any worse?" Zoey sighed while opening the door to her dorm. After making the trek through her messy "living room", which really only consisted of an old, worn out couch, a coffee table littered with empty 21 oz. bottles of Coke and bags of chips and popcorn, and a tv set with a vcr, she tossed her school bag on top of her still disheveled bed. Her black hair, tied back with a small hair tie, swayed when she turned around to glance at the cramped room she'd managed to live in for a whole semester. Not only was her dorm a mess, but her grades weren't looking so hot either. It's only been the first semester of college, and already she's gotten off to a bad start. A knock on the door forced her attention to the doorway as her friend, Katherine, stepped in.

"Whew, someone's in need of a little refurbishing," Katherine teased as she looked around Zoey's dorm room. As Zoey rolled her eyes, Katherine let out a small laugh and hopped onto the couch, picked up the remote, and turned on the tv. The voice of a news reporter filled the room until Katherine lowered the volume so that it remained a soft drone in the background. Glancing back at Zoey, she smiled and asked, "So…how're the grades coming along?"

"Do you really need to ask?" Zoey drawled as she turned around to the mini-fridge by her bedside and bent down to open it. She then pulled out two bottles of Coke, kicked closed the mini-fridge door, and walked over to the couch. After taking a seat and opening her bottle, she offered the second one to Katherine. "Want one?"

"Thanks. So what're your plans for the weekend?"

"What plans? Got no where to go so I might as well stay here and catch up with my studies."

"You. Catch up with your studies? Hah!" Katherine laughed.

"Shut it, Kathy. I'm being serious. It's either that, or drop out."

As they sat in silence, Kathy looked at the tv screen and watched the news reporter discuss a riot in a town not too far off from where they lived. 'The cause behind this riot is yet unknown, but the authorities are still looking into it. Wait! It seems we've gotten a hold of Chief Officer Bradley.' Suddenly, the camera switched locations to an office within the police station. "Hey look, its Jason's dad!" Kathy shouted. Zoey rolled her eyes and reached for the remote. "What else is on?"

"Oh crap…Jason!" Kathy abruptly leapt off the couch and rushed towards the door. "I forgot we had a date! Later, Zo!" she shouted on her way out, shutting the door behind her. Zoey sighed as she stared idly at the television. 'Chief Officer Bradley, can you offer us any information on the cause behind these violent outbreaks?' asked a reporter as he quickly raised the microphone to the officer in question. Officer Bradley cleared his throat before replying in a gruff tone, 'The rioters are known to show a lot of aggression towards others and we've had many victims hospitalized. As for the reason behind these heinous acts, we're not sure just yet, but we're still trying to confirm the situation- DAMMIT! Will you lock that fucker up in a cell!? Keep 'em separated!'

'But wait- Officer Bradley!'

'Get that camera outta here!' shouted the Chief as he shoved the reporter and the cameraman out of the way, trying to make his way to the scene outside his office. The camera caught a glimpse of a male, wearing a blue-hooded sweater, lashing out at many police officers before suddenly lunging at the cameraman, who was the closest, forcing him to drop the camera which then sent out a distress signal on screen.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

The screen went back to the broadcast station where everything had gone completely silent. The anchorman had a grave expression on his face as he was staring, not at the camera, but at something in the distance. 'It seems we've lost our signal down at the police department…' Clearing his throat, he then focused his attention on the camera. A small picture screen popped up behind him, to his left, showing some form of activity in a hospital. 'Th-The hospitalized victims have also been reported to-' Click.

"People these days…" Zoey muttered as she changed the channel.

'We now return to our featured presentation!'

"Oh sweet, Night of the Living Dead!"

xXx

'-show similar symptoms to the rioters' aggression. Doctors are not sure whether this is some form of disease, but they say it does show some similarities to the common cold and stomach flu.'

"Will you turn that shit down, boy? I'm workin' over here!" growled an annoyed Francis, who was working on one of his latest models. The biker raised his head to peek over the motorcycle's seat to the teenager boy that sat on a stool near another bike in the far right corner of the garage. The garage itself was simple. Three walls with white paint chipped here and there, two large garage doors that led into an alley, a work table with a toolbox on top in the far left corner, and the black concrete underneath their feet. The intoxicating smell from the dumpster just outside the left garage door, which was half-way opened, seeped in unwelcomingly. The right garage door was fully opened, letting in all the sounds of the thriving metropolis outside known as Fairfield.

The heavily-tattooed male stood up to stretch his arms and legs as the teen shut off the small radio device in his hands. "Sorry man, just taught I heard my dad…" answered the young boy as he hung the walkie-talkie shaped radio to the right side of his gray cargo pants. Francis merely snorted as he wiped his black-gloved hands on his dark jeans. "Kid…just hand me my vest from over there." Francis gestured with his head towards the work table where his trademark, black vest rested. The boy nodded and made his way over to the work table, and while picking up his set of keys, he tossed the vest across the garage to the biker. "Think fast!" he laughed as he saw the look of shock on Francis' face when his vest was flying in midair. "Dammit Jason!" shouted the male as he managed to catch the vest just inches away from what would have been its oily doom.

Jason laughed again as he slipped on his blue hoodie and hopped onto his motorcycle. As he kicked it into a start and the engine revved, he looked over at Francis and shouted, "Go on to the bar without me! I got a date, so don't wait around for me to show." With that said, the boy gave Francis a wink and laughed once more when the biker shook his head in disbelief. Then, as he turned his bike towards the garage door, he sped through the narrow alleyway and out onto the open street with a shout of thrill. Francis stood there in silence, staring at the empty spot where Jason once stood. Letting out what sounded like a grunt, he then put on his vest and walked over to his bike. The piece of work was nearly finished. Just a new coat of paint and it'd be good to go. After giving the motorbike a small pat on the seat, he sat down on it and turned on the ignition.

Francis smiled as the engine roared into life. He remembered being a few years younger than Jason when he first started to fully dedicate his time on working with this type of machinery. He loved the way the motorcycle got his adrenaline rushing every time he'd cruise around the metropolis; just like any good bar fight would too. Slowly, he rode out into the alley and pulled out a small remote with three buttons from his jean pocket. He pushed the button in the center, shutting off the lights inside the garage, then the two at each side, which shut the garage doors. Stuffing the remote back into his pocket, he then pushed the motorcycle forward and rode into the street just outside the alley. Making his way to the bar was easy. All he had to do was make a few turns, dodge a few cars, avoid stupid pedestrians, and he'd be just fine.

Right on cue, as though an unknown force were listening in on his thoughts, a pedestrian stumbled into the street, coughing and hacking. Suddenly, the individual threw up and Francis forced his bike into an abrupt stop a few feet away from the pale figure. Francis wrinkled his nose at the odd scent he caught flowing through the air. It was worse than that of the dumpster just outside the alley by the garage. "Augh…" he grunted as he backed away from the individual and ignored the bystanders who gathered around the male. As someone shouted to call 911, he made his way through the crowd and continued on his way to the bar. Upon reach of his destination, he parked his motorcycle by the others up in front. Stepping off the bike, he set down its sidestand, turned off the ignition, stuffed his keys in his back pocket, and walked into the bar, which had a sign outside that read in neon lights 'The Rusty Gus'. "Good evening jackasses! Which one of you pretty ladies is buyin' me a drink?"

xXx

Knowing he could recognize the cocky attitude of the tattooed biker anywhere, Bill glanced backwards over his shoulder at the male, sporting the same black leather vest as always, and shouted, "Sit your ass down, Francis." Francis smirked as he took a seat on the stool by the bar counter and next to Bill. "Is that an offer, old man?" he asked, teasingly. As the biker and bartender laughed it up, the veteran merely shook his head and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket of his green jacket. He slid one of the cigarettes between his lips and as he lit up, he placed the container back into his pocket. After taking a long drag from the cancer stick, Bill finally let out the smoky substance through his nostrils with a long exhale. Francis had already ordered a drink and was sitting there, calmly drumming his fingers on the countertop.

"You'll never guess what happened on my way over here," the biker finally stated when the barkeep placed the mug of cold beer in front of him. Bill cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the male before taking another drag from the cigarette and letting it rest against an ashtray.

"You had a sudden epiphany that you should be less of an ass?" Bill questioned as he motioned for the barkeep to bring him a drink.

"Nah. And I'm not an ass, I'm just honest." Francis remarked with a smug expression on his face. The expression slowly vanished though, as he then continued, "A guy stumbled into the street right in front of me while I was driving…"

"You nailed him?" Bill asked curiously. Although, he wouldn't really be surprised if the biker answered with a 'Yes'.

"No! Will ya let me finish? Geez." Francis scowled as he adjusted himself on his seat and took a swig from his drink. He cleared his throat and continued speaking, "Bastard was puking his guts out on the street. Sickest thing I ever seen, if ya ask me."

Bill tapped his cig on the ashtray and took another long drag before responding, "Yeah, that's been going around a lot lately. Some sort o' disease, I guess."

"Yo! Rusty! Business has been pretty low lately, what's doin'?"

"Name's Gus. Rusty was my dad." The barkeep answered as he placed a glass with ice and a bottle of scotch in front of the veteran.

"Yeah, yeah. Just answer the question." Francis answered back. Bill only shook his head and muttered something unintelligible.

"Ehh…most of 'em been gettin' sick and all." Gus shrugged as he picked up an empty mug and started wiping it with a clean towel.

Francis let out a small grunt in response before looking at Bill, who was filling up his glass with scotch after stabbing what little was left of the cigarette into the ashtray. "How's the job huntin' been going for ya?"

"Nothin' but dead-end jobs. Bunch of kids working at most of the places I've checked out. No manners these days, I'll tell ya. Kinda like you, Francis."

"Fuck you, Bill." Francis snorted as he took another swig from his mug. As the men laughed it up, Bill shook his head and added. "Yeah. I think I'm just gonna call it quits for now. No one wants an old vet from Nam anymore."

"Ahh, don't give up just yet." The biker piped in. "I'm sure you'll find a place where you can tell your boring, old war stories. Heck, maybe even a place that'll hire ya for your advice. Like…those people who right the fortunes for Chinese cookies!"

"Yeah. And I'm sure you'll find a place that'll hire you for your wise cracks." The veteran replied in return. A moment of silence passed before they all shared their laughter with one another. However, this time the sound of shattering glass out in back startled them from their chit-chat. Gus muttered something about 'keeping an eye on things' to the two while he picked up his sawed-off shotgun, which he kept hidden underneath the counter should the customers ever get riled up, and walked out into the back through the backdoor exit.

"Probably some drunken hobo rummaging through the trash cans," said Bill, before chugging down his drink and serving himself another glass of scotch.

"You might wanna take it easy on those drinks, old man. I ain't no designated driver if you feel like headin' home." Francis smirked as he downed the rest of his drink, waiting for Gus to return so he could get another refill. Bill let out a sarcastic laugh before replying, "Hah! Kid, I've been drinking these since before you were born. I bet I can handle more 'em than you can."

"Is that a challenge, ol' geezer?"

"I think I'll teach ya some manners while I'm at it."

"Haha! You're on!"

They were startled out of their conversation yet again. But this time by a shrill shriek out in back, and a few gunshots following soon afterward. Not bothering to glance at one another, the two males shot up from their stools and ran out back to a scene that would be embedded into their minds for the rest of their lives.

xXx

God I'm sick of this. Louis sighed as he stepped out of his office, his jacket hanging over his right shoulder as he made his way towards the front entrance. "Later Jill!" he called out, waving a hand to the secretary who sat at the front desk. She raised her head and offered him a half-smile before focusing her attention on what was on her desk. She seemed to be working on some paperwork, probably filing another appointment for someone who wanted to speak with the big cheese of how crappy the service at the IT department was getting. As Junior Systems Analyst, he was sure the boss was going to direct the complaint towards him, rather then deal with it himself.

"Heading out already, Louis?" asked a familiar voice. Louis turned his head back to see his longtime friend ever since college, Henry, chasing after him. "It's still early!"

Louis smiled and shook his head. "It's 8 o'clock. How is that early, Henry?" As the black male laughed, the copper-skinned one chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.

"What I meant was, you shouldn't be heading home so soon. Why not get a couple of drinks with your ol' bud, aye?"

"Hm. I'd have to call Margaret and ask her."

"Ah, c'mon. I'm sure she won't mind," replied Henry while Louis reached into the pocket of his black slacks and pulled out his cell. Henry merely rolled his eyes and gave Louis his space by running towards the reception desk and making small talk with Jill. Louis could here Jill giggle, and already new Henry was using his usual pick-up act, which he used with most girls. Unfortunately, the male never had much luck. Then again, maybe his luck was changing, after all, he'd gotten her to giggle, right? The audible 'beep!' on the phone snapped him out his thoughts, letting him know her phone had gone straight to voicemail. That's odd.

"Honey? I'm going out to get a few drinks with Henry. I promise I won't be late. Call me when you get this message, alright? Love you." He then closed his phone shut and stared at it oddly for a few moments before shoving it back in his pocket. Maybe her phone's off. Yeah, that's gotta be it, he thought silently to himself. He'd been watching the news recently, which was what most likely made him feel paranoid right now, and he was worried something might have happened to her. No one knew the exact reason behind the sudden outbreaks of riots and the disease that was spreading rather quickly. What if it turned into a world-wide epidemic? What if it was already a world-wide epidemic? Louis sighed deeply. He needed to relax. Maybe it was a good idea to go and get a few drinks with his pal.

He looked over to Henry and called out, "You comin'?" Henry nodded and said a quick 'Goodbye!' to Jill before catching up to Louis', who was already at the door. As they stepped out into the brisk night, Louis pulled out his set of keys. He then walked over to the driver's side of his grey sedan and pressed a button on the remote keychain, unlocking his car. Henry let out a small whistle as he walked over to the passenger side of the car. "Fancy."

"Shut up, Henry." He grumbled as he opened the car door and slid inside, closing the door behind him. Henry laughed as he also stepped inside the car and adjusted the seat to his liking. Louis started the ignition to the car and then, they were off. "Where to, co-pilot?" he asked with a grin. Henry chuckled softly before answering, "Up to you pilot. You okay with The Rusty Gus?"

Louis gave him an unsure glance. "Sounds kinda like a shabby place, but sure, why not?" As Henry laughed, Louis couldn't help but smile again. He always felt relaxed with his buddy around. It was always like this, even in the most tense of situations. Hell, if it wasn't for him, he'd have quit his job long ago. As a matter of fact…

"You know, I've been thinking…" he started off, quietly at first, but then in a loud enough tone for Henry to hear, "I'm gonna quit."

"Wha…What?"

"I'm tired of the same ol' bullshit with Tom. So I'm planning to quit. Maybe I'll take up on the job I've actually always wanted, you know?"

"Are you serious? You can't quit now…I mean…just look at how our economy is! People are getting fired everywhere and…"

"I know, I know. Margaret isn't quite cozy with the idea of me quitting either. But…"

"It's not gonna be easy…you know that, right?" Henry asked, his tone serious. "It's hard finding employment nowadays. Are you really willing to risk it? You could lose everything."

"What is there to lose?! I live in a shitty apartment in a rundown neighborhood. I have a crappy ass car. And barely enough money to support the family as it is!" Louis exclaimed. Henry grimaced slightly from the man's point. Things really were going downhill, and fast. They both expelled a sigh, the car ride silent for the most part. A vibration startled them out of their silence, however, and Louis reached into his pocket with one hand. He pulled out his cell phone and looked down at the caller id. It read 'Margaret'. Right when he was about to flip open the phone, something came into view of the headlights.

"Holy shi-!" Henry shouted as Louis slammed down on the breaks. But it was too late.

xXx

A/N: So how's that for a first chapter? God, I've been working on this for weeks. Months, even? But it's finally finished! Intense, no? Well, what are you waiting for?! Go gimme some feedback, fools! I mean…please? Seriously, though. I'd really appreciate it. Heh. Be ready for the next chapter! Dunno when I'll have that one done though…