Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Left 4 Dead, they belong to Valve. However, I do own the character Angela Willingham.

A/N: Please review, it's good for my ego. Anonymous reviews welcome, so if you want the next chapter, tell me how good/bad it is. Note: Flames with no merit will be used to wipe my butt.

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Chapter 1 – Finding Mercy

The four survivors stealthily approached the Mercy Hospital Emergency entrance, taking up positions on the sides of the glass double doors. Weapons at the ready, the team prepared to enter what they hoped would be the last bastion of the zombie apocalypse before the sweet release of a chopper pickup on the roof. With a nod from the Bill, the four shuffled through the doors and scanned the lobby for any signs of the infected. Bill and Francis took point, while Louis and Zoey brought up the rear.

The entire hospital reeked from decay and one could breathe in the coppery taste of the blood that adorned the halls and various rooms. The once sterile air was now riddled with the stench of death and suffering.

"Doesn't seem to be anyone here," Louis said as he nervously looked around the lobby through the scope of his M-16. The young African American man always wanted to try his hand at a shooting range, maybe something simple like a Beretta or other 9mm, just for the thrill and to let off some the steam that built up as a junior systems analyst. Not in a million years did he dream he'd have as much practice shooting in a few hours than most hobbyists would get in their lifetime. There were things one never learned at a shooting range, like how to keep your cool when the cardboard cutouts suddenly ran at you with blood-thirsty rage, or how to pistol-whip the ones that got a little too close to one's personal space. Had anyone told him he'd be firing handguns akimbo at mobs of crazed cannibalistic human beings, he would have asked what pills they were on and could he get some for those really tough days?

"Cut the chatter Louis," Bill said gruffly to the dark-skinned suit, cigarette half hanging from his lips. In all his years as a soldier, between the Korean and Vietnam wars, the aged war veteran had never been prepared for the carnage he'd witnessed in the last several hours. However, as enemies went, these crazed infected were a walk in the park compared to the Vietcong. They didn't return fire, and they didn't set up traps… well most of them anyway. Most of them were also too enraged to concern themselves with dodging bullets. However, there were those "special infected" or SI, which had a knack for keeping out of sight until the most inopportune moment for the survivors. It seemed that the SI's were about setting up ambushes, and this made sticking together as a team and keeping quiet, all the more important to survival.

Francis looked around the lobby. "This place looks worse than Mickey's Bar on a Saturday night," he thought to himself. There were bodies and blood splatters everywhere, along with destroyed desks, broken glass and the occasional small fire slowly consuming one of the many makeshift barricades in the various adjacent hallways. His ears were perked for the growls of a Hunter, one of the worst SI's to deal with without some comrades watching your back. The tough biker had been pounced twice by the sneaky bastards; luckily his teammates were quick on the draw before he was eviscerated on the spot. For his ego, this was payback time. "Next S.O.B. that leaps for me is gonna get a shell right between the eyes!" he thought.

Zoey wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve and adjusted the 6.8M caliber hunting rifle strapped across her back. Zoey had grown up on a farm, and was used to using a rifle to pick off gophers or to bring down deer for dinner, so the weapon was a fine choice. She was the first one in her family to go to college, and her parents hoped that being raised on a farm wouldn't make the city and college life seem too glamorous. Unfortunately, her grades slipped as she was caught up in having fun and watching all the horror flicks that were essentially all but banned from her parents household. She'd always loved horror movies, especially about zombies, and had always dreamed to star in one. Of course, the "extras" in this little "movie" really got into their "roles", and she'd been reminded of that more than once that there was no "take two" when narrowly escaping the grasp of a Smoker's tongue, or dodging a Boomer's bile spew in the nick of time. Looking back on it, the young college girl would probably never be able to watch another horror movie for the rest of her days. "Lord, if we survive this, I swear I'll never skip out on Sunday mass ever again!" she thought to herself. Her quiet prayer was barely out of her mind when a sound froze her in her tracks, the all too familiar growl of a Hunter.

"Hunter," she said quietly. "Sounds like it's near the left corridor way in the back."

"This one's mine," Francis said with slight menacing edge.

Louis snorted. If one could mark a potential kill by calling it as easily as a dog marked its territory, Francis would have peckers coming out of his mouth. "Yeah don't get too cocky buddy," he retorted. "We wouldn't want to have to shoot yet another-"

His remark was cut short by the hunter's signature shriek. It had snuck through a hole in the wall of an adjacent room and sprang out to surprise Louis. His weapons were knocked from his hands as the hunter pounced and began clawing at him.

"Get it off! Get it off me!" Louis yelled, before a single shot rang out. Then hunter fell over on its side as Louis scrambled to retrieve his weapons. He looked over to see Zoey, her rifle pointed in his direction with a hint of smoke tracing off the barrel.

"Nice head shot, Zoey" Bill said, staring at the bloody hole in the hunter's forehead. "Would've felt a lot safer having you watch my back in 'Nam." Zoey blushed a little at Bill's compliment while Francis smirked at Louis for his little comment being cut short with such irony.

"Hope you shoot better than you talk smack, sissy." Francis said with a cocky grin, goading Louis who was busy reloading his pistols.

Louis had no retort however. Looking around the hospital caused a very painful memory to surface in his mind. His fiancé, whom he had been unable to contact for the last two weeks, was a doctor at Mercy Hospital. She had been working double and sometimes triple shifts to treat patients and study this strange, deadly pathogen hoping to find a cure. Despite Louis' warnings to get someplace safe, she steadfastly refused to abandon the patients that were coming in faster than the ones being carted down to the morgue.

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"Louis I can't leave! I have a duty to these people and I will help them!" She said in exasperation, turning her head back to her notes. Her heels clacking on the linoleum was the only distracting sound in the room. She could hear her heartbeat racing in her head and desperately needed some aspirin or even a Valium to settle her nerves. Louis, wanting to calm her and try to talk some sense, approached her. Walking up to her left, he moved her shoulder length blond hair aside to see his beloved's face. Her beautiful yet pale face screamed out exhaustion and frustration. He hated when she ran herself into the ground.

"Angela, you're insane to stay here! You've seen on the news what happens to these people. What if one of them breaks their restraints? It will be total chaos! You'll never make it out of here! Please, just come with me! We need to get out of the city now!"

"Louis," Angela said in a shaky voice, taking her reading glasses off to wipe a tear from her green eyes. "Wait for me. Please. I'm so close to a treatment, if not a cure! Just give me a week. If by then there's no turning this around, I promise to come home."

Louis blinked for a moment as some light was reflected into his eyes by the shiny ID badge on her lab coat. "She looks good even in her hospital ID photo," he thought. Looking into her eyes, for what he thought would be the last time, he finally agreed. He'd known Angela for nearly two years, and there was no changing her mind when she had it set on something, especially her work as a doctor.

"Ok," Louis said, begrudgingly. "But you call me every day! If I don't hear from you, I'm coming to get you!"

"Ok sweet pea." He knew she'd call him that. It was her way of calming him when he was upset. He leaned into her for a tender kiss, stifling back an urge to cry. They held each other closely, Angela's tears running down her cheeks. She loved Louis with all her heart, but she swore an oath as a doctor to do everything she possibly could for the sake of humanity. Louis turned to leave, waving goodbye to his fiancé. The last thing he saw was her tear-stricken face as the office door slowly closed.

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"Louis? Louis, are you ok?" Zoey asked, concern on her face.

Louis shook his head for a moment to clear the very painful memory from his mind. With a heavy sigh, he replied, "Yeah I'm fine. It's just that… my fiancé was a doctor here." The other three looked at him in surprise; he'd never mentioned anything about this until just now. Then again, it wasn't like the group had much "quality time" to get to know each other better.

"Her name was… is, Angela. She stayed to help with the sick and to try and find a cure." Tears were beginning to run down his clean-shaven cheeks. "I called her several times but couldn't get through, due to all the mass panic cell phone traffic." He flung his long since dead cell phone across the lobby in frustration. "I went by her house, but there was no sign of her. God, she could be among the infected we're going to find here. If she was one of them… I," he looked at his gun, "… I don't know if I could…" and with that he sat down putting his hands in his face, unable to continue his gruesome thought.

Bill and Francis lowered their heads for a moment out of respect. Despite being "green" Louis was a good guy who would give you the shirt off his back in a heartbeat. Francis would pick on him, but that's just what Francis did in any difficult situation. Bill, for his part, knew that the mourning would have to wait until they were out of danger. Still a couple moments couldn't hurt… much. Zoey kneeled next to the systems analyst and placed an arm affectionately around his shoulders.

"Louis," she said softly, staring into his deep brown eyes as he looked up at her, "Do you want us to… to check some of the bodies we find for Angela's ID? You know, for the chance that you might get some closure?"

"No" he replied quickly. "It would take too long, and we don't even know if she's here. Besides," he sniffed, looking away, "she'd kick my ass in the afterlife if I died trying to find her body instead of getting the hell outta dodge." The other three chuckled quietly at this. Zoey helped him to his feet and gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek.

"Ok Louis. In that case, don't think about it anymore." Zoey pulled back the bolt on her rifle with a satisfying snap-click. "Let's just get out of here."

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A/N: This story is far from over. Please review as it is my first ever submission to fanfiction.