I do not own Left 4 Dead or Left 4 Dead 2. I also do not own the characters, humans and infected alike, in this story except for the ones which are obviously made up. Please enjoy and try not to hate too terribly bad. This is my first story.

A long sigh escaped my lips as I brushed my forearm across my forehead, wiping away the sweat threatening to fall into my eyes. Saying that it was hot would be an understatement. It felt like I was sitting on the surface of the sun. I had shaved my head, hoping to keep cool in the intense heat. It had helped, but not by much. I sighed once more, turning my attention to the ground below, hoping to get my mind off of the searing heat that was currently being projected from the shining orb above. I was positioned on the roof of an old drug store. "General Drug" was scrawled in large, black block letters on a yellow sign, which hung lazily from two chains attached to either end of the store. The building was pretty unattractive; the yellow paint faded by many years of the sun and rain. The only two windows were concealed by large, green shutters which looked as if someone had taken a hammer to them, battered and dry, it only added to the morbid atmosphere given off by the store. A rusted fire escape offered the only access to the roof from the outside. There was a trapdoor positioned in the very center of the roof, but it was locked and no amount of prying could get the stubborn portal open.

I scanned the ground below and curled my lip in disgust, the creatures shambling below sickening me to no end. The walking dead, or the zombie as it is commonly known, was a reality that years ago would have been unheard of. A virus of unknown origin had been released into the general populace, three short years ago. I had been fifteen then, a sophomore at a high school which will remain unnamed. I would rather save that story for another day, remembering that terrible event really bummed me out and there was no need to have any suicidal thoughts in a world where everything threatened to eat you. Now, let's move away from this depressing little moment and move on to the virus.

There were many theories as to where the virus originated from, ranging from logical evaluations to trippy fantasies. Many people believed it was the government's faults, saying they were running some sort of test on a new biological weapon when it got out of hand. The more patriotic citizens of this now dead country blamed it on "those damn foreigners" as they liked to call anyone not American. Eh, I found this highly unlikely. The environmentally friendly denizens of our world believed it was a dormant virus, brought to modern times due to the deforestation in the tropical rain forests. The more religious oriented folks thought it was a sign of the apocalypse. There are; of course, many more theories concerning where this virus came from, but these are the main ones and the more widely accepted in the ever shrinking survivor community. Personally, I did not give a shit where that goddamned virus came from. All I know is, it was here now and there is no changing it, something many people chose not to accept right away...their loss. Right now, the only thing that mattered was not being torn to shreds by the merciless horde of the walking damned, finding food and water, and watching you and your friends' backs.

My mind wandered away from the virus and towards the thought of my missing companion, Sam. Sam and I were separated a few hours ago when we had a run-in with a Tank. Now, you may be wondering what exactly a Tank is. A Tank is a type of Special Infected. There are many types of SI, each with a different appearance and special ability that made them extremely dangerous. I do not feel like explaining them all right now, but I will tell you what a Tank is. You see, when the "strain," as I call it, hit, it affected people differently. No one really knows why and I do not care to find out. Avoiding these deadly creatures was all I cared about when it came to these SI. Now, the Tank is a massive SI, capable of flinging cars and the like at you. The strain caused the infected being to gain large amounts of muscle mass, making it the strongest and largest SI out there. I do not think I have to tell you how dangerous a Tank is. That muscled monstrosity has killed many a survivor...and many a friend. The bastard tossed a car between me and Sam, separating us from each other and making us more vulnerable to the creature threatening to end our lives. Sam and I both ran in opposite directions, the Tank choosing to run after me, hoping somewhere in its tiny brain that I would be its next meal. A combination of parkour and sheer dumb luck allowed me to escape and live to fight or die another day.

I sighed once more and continued staring out onto the street below. Sam and I agreed that as soon as we reached this city that we would meet atop this decrepit drug store. I had been waiting for about an hour for her, hoping that she had not fallen victim to the zombie horde. I had lost too many a friend to the horde. Whether infected, or simply torn into pieces, they were no longer with me. I remembered each and every one of them and the events surrounding their untimely deaths, subconsciously kicking myself when I remembered how I could not save them. I turned my mind away from these morbid thoughts, choosing to turn my attention back to the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of my brown-haired chum. I was so distracted by the road that I was completely unaware of the danger approaching from behind me.