What was left of the plane was burning. What was left of her brother, her father, burned with it. The reason they had come here became obsolete, for now she knew coming here at all was a terrible error. That error had cost what was left of her family their lives.

Pulling her feet up underneath her, Portia was careful not to move too quickly. For one, the infected seemed to be attracted to light and movement that wasn't their own, and there was no indication that they could smell or sense her in any particularly inhuman way just yet, leaving her to gather her bearings to the best of her abilities.

As she scanned the runway with her green eyes, she could see many other shuffling, slowly moving forms, as well as people laying on the ground. From here, Portia couldn't tell if they were living or dead, or human or infected, but she kept her distance either way.

Moving back towards the wreckage of the plane she had arrived in, Portia scavenged for her belongings, for the guns her father had packed and the rations that were in a blue bag on the seat behind her. Hopefully, these items hadn't been burned up along with most of the plane, but it would have been asking too much to find them in one piece here.

She found the charred strap of the blue bag, but one of the rifles had fallen under a piece of metal and was relatively unscathed by the flames, her trembling hands lifting it as she quickly glanced around the immediate area once again.

There was no way she could possibly be the last person here alive, and Portia clung to that as she moved up the tarmac towards the airport, trying to keep her breathing in check and keep her head on straight. If she started to panic, that would be it for her. Those things would be on her and tearing her apart like a pack of wolves unable to catch the caribou.

"I'm used to living in areas of low population, but this is ridiculous." Portia muttered to herself, the sound of deep, angry growling nearby stopping her in her steps. She was near some luggage carts now, and an overturned bus that must have been transporting people to and from the airport, the ground trembling slightly as is something very large was moving behind it.

She held her breath for a few seconds, taking one step backwards…

Then a face appeared from behind the luggage cart, a terribly small head attached to a horribly huge body, the bottom jaw having been ripped away and small, dim, beady eyes staring in her direction greedily. With another growl, it moved out of sight again quickly, making its way away from the burning wreckage nearby and around the toppled bus…

Portia was very sure she wasn't going to do a thing to this creature with the gun she was holding even if she had the bullets to shoot it with, a scream rising up in her throat as the thing came round the bus and hurtled towards her, using its huge arms to propel itself.

Someone behind her put a hand over her mouth, a hoarse voice suddenly hissing near her ear, the strength in her legs threatening to give out on her.

"Don't scream."

The pressure of the hand was gone and the owner of the voice suddenly moved around and came to a sliding stop in front of her. She could see a shaved head with the stubble of dark hair, a heavier set frame that may or may not have been simply muscle, the man clad in a hooded sweatshirt that seemed a few sizes too big, the arms cut off at the elbows, a pair of ripped denim pants and walking boots.

He was lucky if he weighed even a third of what the creature moving towards them did, but he stood his ground, going so far as to stretch his arms out to either side in an attempt to protect her.

The thing that moved towards them faltered a few times in its steps, feet beginning to scramble for a way to stop, something like a frightened whimper escaping its throat when it got close enough to see him.

Portia could see the man's face split into a smile as he watched the thing's reaction, its huge figure lumbering backwards as a frightened cry escaped it. It ran back the way it had come, disappearing behind some luggage, and it was some time before the ground stopped shaking from its steps.

Only when it did stop shaking did the man turn around to face her, his face a friendly one, brown eyes turning up with the smile that he now wore.

"Close one. Good thing I woke up when I did." Portia listened to him speaking, taking in the wound on the side of his head and the way one side of his sweatshirt was awash with blood. "Oh, don't worry about that. Took some debris to the head, but I'm alive, and I can still walk. If I hadn't come out of it soon enough, you would have been a smear on the tarmac, miss."

"W-w-what was that th-th-thing?" Portia finally stammered, the strength in her legs returning enough for her to stand up straight and stagger a step towards him.

"Tank." He said simply, nodding and rubbing at the dark stubble on his chin.

"A-a-and h-how-"

"How did I stop it? Easy! I'm a lot scarier than it is, trust me. C'mon, walk with me, I'll get you to a safe room." He offered her his hand, still smiling. "I'm Chris, by the way. Short for Christopher, so any fancy nicknames you feel like giving me, you go right ahead. Were you in that plane that crashed, miss?"

"Y-yeah. It's Portia." She took his hand, feeling him squeeze hers firmly and fondly as he shook it. "My dad and brother and I came to see why we had lost touch with my mother. We live in Alaska… we lived in Alaska."

Her voice drew off quietly and Chris' expression changed to one of regret.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not like you're the one that made the plane crash." Portia remarked, Chris shrugging.

"I'm sorry anyway. It's not easy losing family." He replied, Portia giving him a curious look. "Look around you, Portia… there's hardly anyone left here that's not infected. Now c'mon, we can't stand on the tarmac like a bunch of idiots waiting for those things to come and get us. They will avoid me for a time, but even that has its limits. These things seem rather resistant to fear for the most part."

"R-right. I'll stick close, just in case. I… I don't have any ammo."

"You have a gun, that's what counts!" Chris said cheerfully, heading towards the airport again. Portia followed quietly behind him, staring around her at everything that littered the airport grounds. From what she could see from here, most of the windows had been smashed, most of the doors were broken off, but it appeared there was still power inside and that was what mattered. "I sure hope we find a safe room with air conditioning."

"Air conditioning?" Portia asked in disbelief, Chris grinning over his shoulder at her and laughing.

"Welcome to the Okanagan Valley, Portia. It's gonna get REALLY hot today, we're in the middle of summer after all. At least thirty five degrees Celsius… what's the conversion for that?"

"I-I'm not sure." Portia looked up towards the airport roof, drawing to a stop with one hand darting out to grab the back of Chris' shirt. He blinked in confusion, then looked up to see where she was looking, his brows knitting slightly.

"Ah. Yeah… best to get inside. They don't like enclosed spaces, but if that one does decided to follow us, they're dead quiet and we'll never hear it coming. Let's hope someone has bullets for that thing." Chris explained softly, taking her arm and leading her in through one of the broken doors. He glanced around, picking up the fallen leg of a chair and testing its weight before curling his nose. He then picked up a fallen tool kit and opened it, choosing a small crowbar and shrugging. "I guess I'll settle for this for now, till we find something bigger."

As he spoke, Chris moved towards one of the infected shuffling nearby, one with his back turned, the crowbar striking the infected's head and sending it to the floor with a muffled groan. Portia closed her eyes briefly, knowing it was probably for the best, but she had never seen someone kill another living person before.

"Don't do that. If you let down your guard, even for a second, they'll get you. I'll try to condition you as much as I can before we get you to the safe room. Maybe you'll be able to find enough food and stuff on the way to hole up in there and wait for another survivor." Chris' hands were on her arms, warm and alive, but Portia didn't feel particularly comforted by his words.

"Does that mean you're not coming with me? You're gonna leave me in the safe room and be on your merry way?" She asked, not intending for her voice to sound so accusing.

Chris looked at her with a fond, friendly smile, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I can't. Once we reach the safe room, you'll be safe from even me. See… I'm infected." He moved one hand to scratch at a bite mark on his neck, one that Portia hadn't noticed in the dim light outside.

"You're… you're like them?" She whispered in shock, Chris letting out another laugh.

"Nothing like them. I'm something far worse, but that's only when I'm turning. If we get you to the safe room before that, you'll never have to witness that messy business. I'd love to keep travelling with you, Portia, I hate leaving lambs like yourself alone in the hateful world, but… I'd rather not have to hurt you later."

They continued on in relative silence after that, Portia glancing over her shoulder every so often to see if the thing she had spotted on the roof was following them. It had looked like a person, same as the rest of them other than the Tank had, but she was able to see the glowing red eyes under the hood it was wearing and its hands…

Its hands were bigger than a persons hands normally would be, fingers longer, curved into claws like blades.

After some time, they reached the area of the gift shops and restaurants, Chris drawing her to a stop again and breathing in the air slowly.

"Hm… not good." He murmured. "There's a lot of them outside, and we need to get out there to get to the safe room."

"Where exactly IS the safe room?" Portia asked nervously, Chris shooting her a sheepish glance.

"At the university, actually. But we can borrow one of those luggage cart things outside to get there. Most of them have plenty of gas and they move quickly enough, not to mention they're pretty quiet. The infected don't like loud, high pitched noises, you see."

"That's why you told me not to scream." Portia murmured, her face now holding an expression of understanding. Chris nodded in reply, taking in a slow breath.

"I can't fend them all off with the crowbar… I'm going to have to do this a different way. Take cover behind the counter." He pointed to the reception counter just behind them, Portia getting a bad feeling about hiding behind it alone with an empty gun. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave you. I just don't want the blast to hurt you, that's all."

"B-blast?"

"Yep." Chris laughed again. "Don't worry, Portia… there's a lot to learn, but we'll have you taught up in no time!" He pulled a tube like thing off his belt, flipping a switch on the side and hurling it out the doors towards the crowd of infected outside.

The tube began emitting a beeping noise, high pitched and almost obnoxious, the infected changing immediately from shuffling, stupid drones to slavering, screaming monsters, racing towards the source of the noise. As they gathered around it, they began tearing at one another, shreiking and biting and attacking each other furiously…

Portia was hauled behind the counter and forced to duck down, so she didn't see what happened next, flinching when an explosion rocked the ground and the building around them, shattering whatever windows were still left intact in the cars outside.

After a few seconds, Chris popped up to check out the damage, Portia remaining crouched down a moment longer to gather her wits about herself.

"Holy shit." She breathed, putting her hands over her head. "Holy shit, this is like… Dawn of the Dead meets 28 Days Later. Those things… they're fast!"

"Fast AND strong, which goes against every rule in every video game EVER. If you're fast, you're supposed to be a weenie, easy to kill if you can be hit. These things take a few shots before they go down, unless you're using piercing rounds or you hit them in the head. Same as in the movies! Now, up you get, it's safe to move." Chris had his hands on her shoulders again, drawing her up to her feet and brushing her off in a friendly manner. "We'll stop in for something to eat over there in the lobby before we head out. It's best to have food with us for the journey."

"You're so calm… how can you be so calm?!" Portia cried, Chris hushing her and looking around in alarm.

"I'm so calm because I know I can take them. I've got nothing to be afraid of, in all honesty… it's you I'm worried about, alright?" He explained. "Now, c'mon. It's best I don't get hungry, it makes the changes happen sooner."

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Haha, a fanfic set in the place where I live! That's right, Kelowna B.C. in the sunny Okanagan Valley. Characters are just original ones I thought up for now, though I have put out a call among some of the gaming/anime fans on a forum I'm part of for a convention we're trying to put together here. I'm hoping some of them will offer up characters for cameos and what have you!

If not, then I've got other characters in mind!

Now for something completely different… I have created my own infected types, possibly inspired to do so by the brilliant and completely mad Chibi Sama…

Here's the first, who made a brief appearance here!

Infected Type: Reaper

Completely hairless and ghostly pale. Smaller, like a Hunter, also usually hooded. Glowing red eyes and long fingers with wickedly long and curved claws, giving hands a 'scythe-like' appearance. Utterly silent.

Also, for those who have been patiently waiting for updates on my other L4D stories, Mutation and How Does it Feel?

Don't fret! I've got two chapters of Mutation coming, one of them just needs to be typed out and the other has been sent away to my beta for reading and should be back soon. We're nearing the end of both stories, so I needed something to tide me over. That's why this story was born!