Better Safe Than Sorry
A/N: This is a Left 4 Dead fan fiction about what runs through the Church Guy's head before the survivors arrive and when they tried to get inside the safe house and while they're fighting the horde. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead belongs to Valve.
Warning: Strong language is used.
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"Better safe than sorry," You whisper to yourself, pacing frantically around the room. "Better safe than sorry." With the little shred of sanity you have left, you wish for the desperation and fear in your voice to go away. You can hear the words coming out of your mouth, realizing with terror that you're slowly losing it.
By now, the throbbing pain in your shoulder is the least of your worries. It hurts, yes, but not as much as the thought of turning into an infected. This is not how you imagined it ending. Hell, you didn't want it to end this way, either.
That motherfucker! You scream inside your mind. You immediately regret it. It's not his fault he bit you, not at all. He was losing all control, just like you are now. If anything, it's your fault. You brought him inside even though you knew he was already changing. It's your damn hero complex. You thought that by some miracle he wouldn't change or die before he did. Or maybe he'd recognize you, even as a zombie, and refrain from biting you. You tried to convince yourself it'd be fine. God, were you wrong. You were so, so wrong.
"Better safe than sorry," You blurt out again. You cover your mother with one hand and punch the wall with the other. Damn it, why can't you shut up? Why can't you fall asleep and lose all of your humanity without having to bear witness to it?
You look around the room, trying to find a distraction even though it's becoming increasingly tough. You look at the blood splattered at the wall and memories can't stop flashing through your mind. You see every friend you ever had being devoured by the Infected. The images won't leave your mind. You fall to your knees at the door and the room swims before your eyes. You feel like you're going to be sick.
Despite your pleading, you empty the contents of your stomach on to the floor. You can't help wondering if this accompanies changing into an Infected or if seeing your friends die over and over again isn't something you can stomach.
Suddenly, pounding at the door and anxious voices break you out of your miserable reverie. At first, you are ecstatic. Humans! Human beings! They can help you, they can save you! These survivors have made it this far; they can fend off any zombies that come your way. And maybe, yes, maybe, they've found a cure that's pulsing through your veins, plaguing your mind!
You eagerly reach for the door, but abruptly it flinches away. Doubts are running through your mind. What if they're infected, too? What if they want to bite you? What if they want to make your suffering worse? No, you can't trust them. You can't trust them farther than you can throw them. They've probably got a horde of Infected hot on their heels, just waiting to unleash them upon you. Don't let them in, fool!
"Better safe than sorry," You mumble to yourself again. Their frantic pounding and screaming increases, hurting your ears. Why can't they go away? Leave me alone! You want to scream.
"No one gets in!" You shout at them. God, why does your voice sound so crazed? You just want to sound normal again. Or maybe you want to go deaf so that you can't hear the increasingly insane tone to your voice. Yes, deaf is good. Then, you can ignore the people knocking at the door. You can ignore the entire world. "Go away! No one gets in!"
They're shouting at you, promising that they're not infected. One is even pretending to be with the police. Fat chance, you decide.
"Your words mean shit to me!" You holler. That will make them go away. Be impossible and they'll give up. They'll find another way out of this without your help. Better safe than sorry, as you've always said.
Pull the bell! You yell. Yank it! Keep the door locked and let the dirty Infected monsters have their way with these untrustworthy bastards! The plan sounds so tempting, so amazing that you can't resist.
"I'm gonna ring this bell!" You threaten with gusto. "I'm gonna ring the bell! And they'll come and they'll finish the job!" You're breathing heavily now, so excited about what you'll do. "Ding dong! Ding dong!" You yell sadistically. Oh, those idiots will get it now! "Dinner's served!" They'll be feasted on like wolves devouring helpless lambs. Then you won't have to worry. It will be all over, then. You'll be safe from everything. Nothing can ever get to you again.
God, now someone's trying to convince you that just because he's old means he gets special treatment. Ha! Yeah, right! Well, fuck him! He can die with the rest of them. He'll just get finished off faster and be out of your hair.
"I can't believe he bit me," You tell yourself as you hear a battle raging on outside. You're rocking back and forth on your heels now, hugging your knees tightly to your chest. Fuck! Why does atom in your body hurt so much? Can't it just be over with by now?
They're still trying to get into this room! "I decide who gets in this room!" You shout at them. Why haven't the Infected finished them off yet? Surely they can handle four measly humans.
"It's been an hour…" You start to tell yourself. Why aren't you a member of the Infected yet? "I must be immune… I-I must be immune!" You cry with joy. Yes, that must be it! You're immune, there's no other way around it. You've never felt more relieved or happier. You're fucking immune, buddy! You won't turn into an Infected, it was silly of you to think that in the first place.
But you're battling with yourself. You can't be immune! No one else is! And God, the pain hurts so much! You just want it to end.
"I-I can't believe he bit me! That's… that's…." You trail off. Abruptly, a disgusting, vicious, gurgling growl erupts from your throat. Now, you're crying. Tears are pouring down your face and you're gasping for breath. There it was. You really are turning into an Infected.
There's that sound again, that Infected snarl. It feels as if you've got an endless pool of tears in your tear ducts. The tears, they just won't stop. Between your foul, horrid growls that you desperately wish would go away, you sob loudly. You sob so hard. You dry heave. You feel sick and hurt.
"Better safe than sorry," You cry. "Don't be fooled twice. I can't believe he…" There it is, another demon-like howl. You can faintly hear yourself repeating your mantra over and over again. Better safe than sorry. One more terrifying roar rips from your lungs before it's completely dark and you can't see anything anymore. You realize that you only have a few more seconds before you've completed the transformation into one of the Infected. What is the last thing you are going to think?
I can't believe he bit me, that bastard.
Oh, well. What a shame.
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I know this is way darker than what I usually do, but I really, really like this. And the Church Guy from Left 4 Dead is such an intriguing character that I couldn't help myself. Thanks for reading!