Birth of a Legend
First L4D fanfic. I apologize if this has been done already, but this is my take on one aspect of the game.
I've never been good at much of anything, always been that one average guy in the group. I work, well, worked at a community college, teaching English 101. I ate lunch with the same people every day, didn't contribute much. Then the Infection came, and I found something I wasn't so average at- killing zombies. I formed a little survival group with two of my coworkers, and one of my students.
First, there was the programming teacher, Jack. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy. His wife got infected, and he shot her in the head without a second thought. Later he told me that it wasn't really her any more, and that's how he had to think about it. He was our lookout, raised on a farm in Texas. Crack shot with a rifle, as we found out.
Next there was Cathy, Film Appreciation teacher. She was a bit of a klutz, but she was good at keeping us patched up, having been a nurse at her old job. She was the oldest of us, by a solid five years. Me and Jack found her running away from the Infected, and she just kinda stuck with us the whole time. She was a wealth of zombie information too- I remember when we met this odd group a while back. They talked on and on about old zombie flicks while Jack and this old Vet with a beard just kept watch.
And we finally come to Flint, he was taking my class for the third time when the Infection broke out. Smart kid, just didn't push himself hard enough. He played hockey for a local team, and we found him skating around, bashing zombie heads in with his stick. He had gotten pinned by a Tank, and Jack sank a round through its eye and out the back of its head before it could crush him.
And that was our group- what? You wanna know how me and Jack hooked up when the Infection broke out? Well, truth be told, he was saving my ass from some tall freak with this huge tongue. He got in the way of the tongue, so I did the first thing that came to mind- grabbed a shotgun laying to my right and shot the tongue in half. I pumped it, aimed up and fired blindly at the infected bastard and killed it. Happy? Sheer dumb luck. Even more luck that Jack offered to travel with me.
Name's Theodore, friends call me Ted. I'm from Chicago, and this is my story.