Fall Asleep to Crickets
Author's Note: I started watching game play videos of Left 4 Dead 2 online a couple of days ago, and I instantly fell in love with the characters. Erm…
Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or any of its characters.
Warning: Short, written at 12 at night (though edited later on xD) and oh, my god, I'm new to the game so excuse me if I'm wrong?
xxx
Fall Asleep to Crickets
Two months, four days, and twelve hours; they had gone through an ungodly amount of ammo, used three types of guns – each –, thrown thirty two pipe bombs, and killed too many sons of a bitches to remember. By the time of their rescue, Coach's knee injury had worsened (he blamed it on the last Charger attack); Rochelle had ended one too many fist fights for her liking; Ellis' hatred of Jockey's and their humping ways had increased tenfold; and Nick's suit was beyond saving.
It was harder settling down than they thought. After being around each other for so long, it was weird waking up and not seeing each others' faces – though Nick claimed he was more than happy about this fact. Arriving at the camp had been…emotional. There had been quite a few 'whoops!' and Rochelle had nearly burst into tears at the sight of so many people – sane, alive people, and maybe Nick had given a happy little sigh at the thought of clean clothes. It was weird not having to lock the door before turning in for the night, weird not needing to carry weapons on their back everywhere they went. The first day was busy, and they didn't have much time to dwell on their thoughts, but when night finally fell and they were tucked into their assigned cots, the weight of their situation finally pressed down upon them.
They were free, but the nightmare wasn't over yet. There was a woman three cots down who sobbed into her pillow at night and damn…if it didn't sound like a witch. Fingers would twitch and sleep was hard to find. Then there was the rustling – you can't forget the rustling, because after their time in the swamp they learned rustling meant something was coming. Nick often woke to Ellis' mumbling from the cot beside him, "The horde, the horde," and he'd roll over and leave the boy to his nightmares with a grimace.
There were good things. Rochelle was thankful for the familiar faces; they all were. Despite what Nick had said about leaving them, even in the camp he stuck close to the three. There was hot (sometimes) food, beds, safety, and a promise that everything was going to be alright, it would all go back to normal soon. Nobody questioned that last bit. Nobody.
After a while, the woman three cots down stopped crying every night, and they learned that the rustling was just the wind. They woke up to the birds and fell asleep to the crickets.
For a moment, things seemed normal again.
xxx
Author's Note: I'm done, never again. D8 Review?