This is my first story, I apologize if it seems rushed or choppy. -TheItchyCocoon.

Left 4 Dead: Red Survivor.

2 months after first infection:

Wednesday, 6:48 PM.

Three men stood in a small alleyway, laughing their heads off at the pile of corpses that laid at their feet. One man had graying hair, was gangly, and wore a tattered brown jacket, and wielded an Ar-15 assault rifle. He was cackling over his latest kill, one of the special infected that were known for pouncing on their victims and ripping them apart. A worthy kill indeed.

"Ey, Paul! I got dis one righ between is eye's!" The man addressed Paul, the shortest of the group.

Paul was also the fattest of the group, was balding, and was armed with a 50. AE Desert Eagle pistol. "Yeah, yeah whatevah, nice kill Gary and all that crap, still not as good as the time I killed me one of those big arms! Wouldn't you say so Hugh?!"

Paul addressed Hugh, arguably the best looking out of the other two. Standing at a good 6 foot 2, as well as looking better nourished, and also wielding a mossberg 870 shotgun, he was the definite leader of this small group.

Hugh merely snorted at Paul's comment and retorted with a relaxed, "I believe my kill of two of the fat one's was much better." Gary snickered and said with a cheeky, "Don't go talkin bout Paul's family lie that Hugh! It tain't polite!"

Paul rounded on Gary, an argument erupting between the two. Hugh merely sighed. "Listen you moron's, im going to head over by that nearby gas station for some food, and more ciggies" Hugh stated as he pointed at a 7/11 across the street. "Im damn near out. Feel free to come when ever you two want."

Gary and Paul either didn't listen or didn't care, because they kept arguing. Hugh shook his head and started to trot over to the gas station.

As Hugh entered the gas station, he expected at least a few walker's, maybe one of those fat exploding zombies. But to his surprise, it was empty. "That's a first..." Hugh muttered to himself. He strolled in and squinted his eyes in the darkness. It was pretty damn dark, but Hugh could make out the snack racks and the cashier desk. He wanted to be sure there wasn't one of those damned crying girls here before he flipped on a light.

He clicked on his small flashlight and searched the snack racks. Everything was gone, except for a few packages of moldy peanuts. Hugh grimaced at the sight and turned his attention to the cash register.

He went behind the desk and looked in any of the drawers, hoping to find some ammunition, maybe even a gun behind the counter. After all, he had seen that kind of stuff on TV, so why not here?

He cursed as he fond neither gun, nor ammunition. He was about to give up and go back to his idiots, until his eyes rested on a small, black and red box.

He grinned as he looked at the cigarette box. He picked it up, and let out a rather loud "Yes!" as he felt the box was full! He popped it open and took a fresh cigarette out, ready to light it. But before he could do that, he froze, as a loud cough interrupted the silence.

There, right across from the counter, was one of those zombies with long tongues. Hugh had forgotten what other people called them (much like all of the other zombie names.)

Hugh stood, feet planted to the ground as the creature stared him down. He had made the foolish mistake of setting his shotgun down at the cash register, which was a good five feet away from him. The time it would take for him to reach the shotgun wouldn't be enough. He'd be dead in less than that.

Hugh slowly moved his hand down his body, never taking his eyes off of the coughing zombie. He was reaching for 1911 pistol. If he could just reach it...

Sadly, fate didn't like Hugh.

The smoker shot it's tongue forth, grabbing Hugh by the neck. Hugh tried to let out a cry of surprise, but all that came out was a gurgle.

The smoker pulled it's tongue forth, dragging Hugh over the counter, and slamming him onto the floor.

Hugh struggled in vain. He couldn't escape the tongue, he was losing air, and he was pretty sure he had pissed himself. With his vision blurry, he tried with the last of his strength to call out for his friends. Nothing came out, and Hugh passed out, never to wake again.

The smoker gave a small grunt of satisfaction as he broke the man's neck. He hadn't thought it would be this easy! Normally he'd get a few bullets in him before he could make a kill! And he didn't even have to have his friend's help him!

The smoker settled over his kill, and started to dig in.

As he was eating, he heard the other two humans stop arguing, and immediately start screaming. A few gunshots were heard, then a roar and a smashing sound, then silence.

The smoker thought to himself: Damn, they're here already? Now they're gonna want some of my kill!

As if on cue, a Boomer entered the station, carrying the now dead body of Gary over his shoulder, with a Tank following him, carrying the remains of Paul in his free hand.

The boomer set Gary down, and said "Is it just me, or are human's getting easier to hunt?"

The smoker: Normally i'd say something snarky, but I gotta agree with you Anthony. Took this one out ll by myself. Without ANY help from either of you, Nick, or Anthony. The smoker said the last part with some arrogance.

The tank merely grunted: Whaddya want, a medal? Human was easy to start with, Don't get cocky, Gomez. Anthony sighed. "Can't we have one meal where we don't argue all the time?"

Nick and Gomez both simply said: "Nope".

And so that's the first part of my story, I hope you enjoyed it. More chapters will be coming along, but they may be a little while.

Rad and review!