Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead, et al is full property of VALVe. Anya is a product of my own imagination and zombie obsession.
Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm was set off. Gun shots could be heard, and the cries of zombies were slowly filling the stagnant air. From the third floor of the apartment complex, a young woman of about 20 years old stood, staring out into the dead city streets. Good. The infection was still a few miles away, and her future comrades would slowly be close.
The woman turned away from her window and walked back into her room. Her door had been locked and a sheet of metal had been placed on the inside. No zombie could break in through her defense, and even the special, more powerful ones would have a tough time. She had a lot of time to devote to studying and preparing for this exact moment, and she was slowing realizing how glad she was because of it. A red medical kit sat on her desk, packed into a backpack shaped like a first-aid kit, down to even the red color and white cross. Her favorite pistol was right next to it, as well as a supply of ammunition and a pipe bomb just waiting to be detonated.
Yes, the young woman was prepared for whatever was going to be thrown her way. She wore white running shoes with the laces tied perfectly to prevent them from ever coming undone without a decent amount of effort. Her faded blue jeans were held up with a belt. She wore a dark blue, almost black, sweater with a white tank top under it. Her long dirty blonde hair was braided and fastened tightly.
She grabbed her gun and shoved it into the holster on her hip. Then she grabbed the med kit and pulled the strap, figuring out how to wear it. After a moment of struggling, she fitted it going across her chest. The pipe bomb, being checked for any stray fuses and determined to not be at risk of premature detonation, was placed in another spot on her belt.
Just as she was about to go to the window again, the sound of guns being shot stopped. The whole city was quiet. The young woman froze, waiting. The loudest growl she had heard in her life rang out, and she heard the sound of a chunk of ground being torn up.
"TAAAAAAAAANK!"
An obviously female voice cried, and then the sound of guns shooting picked up again. A mix of roaring, zombie cries, and those guns filled the night sky. The woman ran to the window and jumped out onto the balcony. She detached the pipe bomb, set it off, and threw it.
"Look out below!"
It was all the warning she could give to the quartet standing below her, fighting for their lives. She was, too, essentially, so it was her right to jump in like this. Her gray-green eyes watched as the stupid zombies chased after the bouncing, flashing pipe bomb and how they died in the following explosion. The diversion proved to be enough time for the others to kill the hulking, beefy, once-human being.
The woman ran to the end of the balcony and scurried down the escape ladder on the side. She walked up to the others holding her hands up in front of her chest, as if to show she meant no harm.
"Who are you?" A man dressed in pants and a vest, looking rugged and kind of like a biker, asked her. He had a harsh kind of edge to his voice, one that almost started the blonde girl.
"Yeah, who're you and why are you stealing or zombies?" The oldest man asked. He looked very much like a war veteran would, or so the young woman though. These two men seemed really unhappy that she had just helped save her life.
The other two were a black man and a woman that appeared to be about the same age. The third man said nothing, but the other girl approached her. For a moment, the two looked each other over, like females tend to do, and then smiled.
"Hello there. I'm Zoey. This is Louis" - she pointed to the bald black man- "Francis" - a motion toward the vested man was made- "and that over there is Bill." The military man nodded to her, having cooled down a bit and destroying the reason for the Zoey girl to acknowledge him herself. "Who are you and why haven't you found us sooner?"
The blonde girl brushed her braid back over her shoulder and forced herself to smile. Smiling wasn't really her thing. She was a bit of a loner, but in the zombie-infested world they lived in, that wasn't such a good option anymore. She hesitated, but a scoff from Francis made her hurry up.
"M-my name is Anya. I live in those apartments. I've... I've been watching for signs. I've been listening to the radios, military and all."
"I hate spys," Francis remarked. The others didn't seem to pay this comment much mind. Either Francis said things like this a lot or they knew she wasn't so much of a spy, but just another one of them. Just another survivor.
"I had hoped to find you all sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. The infection is so widespread. Hope was... hope was wearing thin." Anya had continued after giving each of them the slightest glance. Zoey was the most understanding of them all. Of course, Anya thought. She is a female and thrown into this crazy struggle.
Anya realized that she was just as much a part of it now as they were. The second she jumped out the window and threw the pipe bomb she dedicated herself to this campaign. Louis smiled at her as well, but started walking a little further. Francis muttered something along the line of: 'I hate newbies.' Bill scoffed and brushed past her, bumping his shoulder against her. Anya almost turned and shot him, but that would have been too rash. Zoey gave her an apolagetic look; they both knew she couldn't abandon her team. They were in too deep.
In a moment of rashness, something that was becoming a lot more frequent, a lightbulb went off in the blonde female's head. This was an all-or-nothing move, but it had to be done.
"Wait up!" Anya said simply, turning around to face them as they walked off. "I'm going with you."