First of all, I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read the first chapter of my very first L4D fanfiction, especially those who left helpful reviews for me. I love getting constructive criticism, and by all means, what you guys had to say definitely helped me. I also made this chapter a little longer than I normally do. I tend to get a lot of people saying I make my chapters too short, but personally, I don't like reading ones that go on and on, so I always cut them a little short. But, I'm not the one reading this story, you guys are. So I'll try to make the chapters a little big longer than usual.
Naharaice13 – I'm very glad that you enjoyed the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the first. If not more!
demon-hell-fire – Thank you very much for your advice. I wrote this chapter with your comment in mine, and I tried to add more detail than the first chapter. I'm glad you like where the plot is going so far. Hopefully it'll keep you interested right until the end.
Mon- I definitely do want to add some action into this story the more it progresses. Oh, don't you worry, I'm going to try and get even deeper into Francis and Zoey as the chapters go by. Wish me luck!
Ethriel – I'm glad to see that you liked the way I started off my story. It's a pretty hard concept to have all the characters meet up and then write about the strong bond that they managed to form together, but I think I'm going to give it a shot and try my best to make it realistic. I thank Valve's Sacrifice comic for giving me a little more back story to each character. It makes it a lot easier to come up with a little of their history and have it be true to the series. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Lightning Guardian – Thank you very much for the review! I hope this story will shape up to be as good as yours. :)
I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Please, feel more than free to leave a review. They're always a great way to improve writing. Thanks for reading, everyone!
Zoey could feel her throat closing in on her when the entrance to the bar slammed shut behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. The men who just saved her from certain death had hammered in scraps of metal surrounding the old wooden door. She watched as Francis slid thick chunks of wood through the metal, adding extra security to the heavy door. And the only escape she currently knew of.
She clutched her baseball bat to her chest, holding onto it as if for dear life. Nervously, she scanned the room, looking for another quick escape, should she need to use it. But it was no use. Every window, at least on the ground floor, had been covered completely by thick pieces of wood. Where the hell did these guys get so much wood?
Francis groaned as he set the last piece in place. Turning to face the nervous girl, he brushed his hands together to get rid of any splinters of wood that remained on his skin. As if he could read her mind, he walked up to her and shrugged.
"The owner of this bar did a lot of things with construction. Expanding on his shit hole of a house and trying to build onto this crappy old bar were just a few ways he used to waste his time. So he had a lot of stuff lying around we figured we could use to secure the place up a little bit."
Francis walked past Zoey. She swallowed the spit that had gathered in her mouth as she watched him carefully. He walked around like he owned the place, striding confidently, even though for all he knew, they could all be dead in a matter of seconds. His height was extraordinary as he towered over her as if she were a child. And his build…well; let's just say that if she ran into him in a dark alley, she would be more than a little scared.
"'Used to?'" The way he spoke of the bar owner in the past tense only made her even more nervous about entering the bar.
The biker glanced back and casually answered her question. "Yeah. You know, before he got ripped to pieces by those damn vampires out there."
Vampires? Did he actually just call zombies vampires? If she wasn't absolutely terrified of the man that stood before her, she might have actually laughed. But no, now was definitely not the time to tell him he's using the wrong word to describe what almost killed her only moments before.
"Anyways. You should come up and meet the rest of the gang. I'm sure they're all still up on the roof." Francis waved his hand, motioning for her to follow him up the stairs at the back of the bar.
Zoey tightened her grip on her bat as she followed him. Did he really have to use the word 'gang' to describe the men that waited for them upstairs? As if she wasn't terrified enough…
Every ounce of sanity she still had inside of her told her this was a terrible idea. She was trying to be open minded about the whole situation, but it just wasn't working out. She couldn't forget how they looked, standing on a roof, mowing down a horde of oncoming zombies as if it were an average afternoon for them. Their physical appearance didn't settle her nerves very much, either.
Zoey heard loud music playing from above as they neared the top of the stairs. She had to admit, this seemed like one hell of a place to take refuge in until help arrived. The building was made of old bricks that had discolored from age. Zoey knew a thing or two about older buildings. While they tended to look like utter crap and needed some sprucing up to attract attention and new buyers, buildings like this just weren't made anymore.
Before leaving for college, Zoey had briefly dated a plumber. She remembered him telling her how the buildings he worked in used the lowest standard of materials to save costs and make more money. He had explained to her how every trade, not just plumbing, had the same method. At the time, she couldn't have been more bored out of her mind. But now, she was grateful she had the useful information. She had no doubt the reassurance would help her sleep at night.
Zoey walked onto the roof, still following closely behind Francis. Her tight grip on her bat never faltered as she came to a stop in front of the men who had saved her life.
She scanned their faces, searching for a softness that her conscious begged to find. There was none. None of the men before her looked as though they had a soft side or even knew what it meant to have one. All she saw was a bunch of muscle and leather. Just her luck.
"Guys, this is Zoey. Zoey, that's Danny, Sean, Nick, and Chris."
Zoey followed Francis's finger as he pointed to each man as he said their name. She shot them a smile as she tried to identify each name with a face. She never was good at remembering names and faces. But considering the fact that these were probably going to be the last people she would ever meet, she figured she could give it a try.
"Hi." Was all she could muster up at that particular moment. She watched the men as they glanced at one another, smile spreading across their lips. Amusement was written all over their faces as they watched her nervously stand before them.
"Well, we ain't going to bite, Zoey. There's no need to look at us like we're one of them." Danny laughed, cocking his head the pile of undead bodies in the street below.
Zoey smiled genuinely and felt her heart beat begin to slow down. She studied the men before her. They all sat lazily in lawn chairs; each had a beer clutched tightly in their hands with a different type of gun in the other. Sure, their appearance was a little different than what she was used to being around. But for all she knew, these men could be the last survivors on the planet.
There was no way that she was going to judge them on appearance and make a mistake that could cost her her life. If these men were nice enough to let her stay here with them, then the least she could do is try to relax a little.
She had managed to survive these past few days, but that was nothing short of a miracle. She had no idea how she managed to pull that off, but she was thankful to whoever was watching over her.
"I'm sorry. I'm still having trouble with this whole…zombie apocalypse thing."
Francis had a good, bellowing laugh at Zoey's response. "Really? We're having a blast with it. I mean, look around. We've got ourselves a cozy little set up right here."
He held his arms out to either side, a smile proudly spread across his thin lips. Zoey looked around, and had to admit that, in any other situation, this would be pretty sweet. A jukebox blasted out music beside the stairs, giving a strange comfort to her aching soul. It reminded her of the days she used to blast her music in her room. It reminded her of the days when everything was still…normal. There was a bucket of ice right beside it, with a handful of beers buried deep into it. And, of course, behind the seated men was a wooden table, set up with more guns and ammunition than anyone could ever need.
The moans from below traveled up to the roof and sent a noticeable shiver down Zoey's spine. Okay, maybe there was no such thing as too much guns and ammunition right about now.
Francis took his seat, which happened to be beside where Zoey stood, and reached over for a beer. He shook the moisture off his hand and twisted the cap off. With his eyes never leaving her face, he took a swig of his beer.
"So, Zoey, what's your story?"
She frowned at Francis. "What do you mean?"
Francis chuckled. "How are you still alive?"
Zoey was taken back by his question. How crazy would these men think she was if she said it was pure luck? "I was at home, having dinner with my parents." Zoey's eyes fell to the ground, her voice lowering as she remembered her final moments with her parents. "A man came into my father's apartment. He attacked my mom. And then she…"
Zoey's throat closed in on her. She tried to fight against the tears stinging her eyes, but it was too much, too soon. She turned away from the men, ashamed to cry in front of them. She dropped her baseball bat, narrowly missing her feet, as she buried her face in her hands.
"Aw, Jesus, Zoey, I'm sorry." Francis sat his beer down beside his chair, ignoring the glares he got from his friends. There was nothing he hated more than seeing a woman cry. It broke his heart. It always had.
He put a hand gently on her shoulder and turned her, walking her towards the stairs. She shook under his hand, her body wracked from her sobs. "I'll take you to the bathroom. You can clean up in there." If there was any way for him to kick himself in the ass, there wouldn't be a more appropriate time than right now.
Wow. Way to make a great first impression, Zoey.
Zoey turned the sink faucet, praying for water to come spraying out, but not getting her hopes up. A shaky breath slipped through her lips when water came gushing out. She reached for it and bent over the sink, splashing cold water in her face. She turned the sink off, not wanting to waste any of it if they had a limited supply, and stood up to look at her reflection in the mirror.
Without looking away, she reached for a nearby towel, prayed that no one had used it anywhere inappropriate, and patted her face dry. God, it looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her eyes were heavy from the lack of sleep, dark circles taking refuge under them to show everyone she encountered just how tired she was.
And now, on top of it all, her eyes were red from crying. Great. Zoey wrinkled her nose as she examined her sweater. Even though it was red, she could still see where blood had splattered on her. All the people she had to kill to get where she was right now. Her own father being one of them.
Zoey felt her eyes begin to sting again and lowered her head. She leaned her hands against the sink and took in a deep breath to try and steady herself, forcing back the tears that burned her vision.
Don't cry, Zoey. It's time to be strong.
Now was definitely not the time to be weak. She had to stand up and take control of her emotions now more than ever. She would not let her parent's deaths be in vain. She would get out of this God forsaken city alive, whether it would be alone or not.
Zoey let out a heavy sigh and looked back up at her reflection. God had brought her to these men for a reason. Instead of always thinking of the negative, she would look at this situation as a positive one. These men would help her get out of this city. She would depend on them to protect her, and in return, she would do the same for them.
Giving her reflection one last glance, Zoey reached for the doorknob and opened the bathroom door. She looked around the hallway and saw Francis wasn't where she had seen him last. How long had she been in there?
Moving quietly, she tiptoed down the hall. She heard the music blaring from upstairs, but didn't plan on going back up there anytime soon. She wanted to wait until there was no evidence left of just how bad she had been crying once Francis brought her to the bathroom.
As Zoey passed a doorway, something in the room caught her eye. She stopped walking and looked in. Francis stood in the darkness of the room, his attention focused on the other side of the closed window.
Curious, she walked into the room and approached him. A creak filled the silent room and Francis whipped around, his gun already in his hand.
Zoey threw her hands up and stopped dead in her tracks. She watched him relax the minute he saw it was her, lowering his gun and sliding it back into his holster.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, Zoey. Not at a time like this."
Carefully, she finished walking towards him, her heart still pounding furiously in her chest. She flashed him a thin smile and tried to suppress the fact that inside, she was still screaming. She had never looked down the barrel of a gun before. "Sorry. I just wanted to see what you were looking at."
Without saying a word, Francis cocked his head towards the window. Zoey swallowed the spit that had gathered in her mouth and walked towards the window, a part of her already terrified to see what waited for them out there.
"Oh my God…" She gasped.
Francis shifted so he stood directly behind her. His eyes fell to the ground below as he shook his head solemnly. "There ain't no God anymore, Zoey."
She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and had to fight against the shiver that wanted to run through her body. His body was so close against hers, she could feel the heat radiating off him.
But no, now was definitely not the time to give thoughts like that so much as a second thought. The entire street below was crawling with the undead. There must have been hundreds and hundreds of them, walking around aimlessly, searching for their next victim.
That's when Zoey realized it. They were all going to die here. There was no getting out of this. Not when the numbers were stacked this much against them.
Zoey felt Francis step away from her and let out a silent breath of relief. "Maybe you guys should turn down that music. Do you really want to attract more of them?"
Zoey turned around, expecting to see distance between her and Francis. There was definitely distance, just not as much as she would have preferred at that moment. He was standing right before her, the man who saved her life, the man who took her in when he could have left her out there to be torn to bits. Her hero. He was so close; she could reach out and touch him.
But she was frozen in place. She felt the flush of color engulf her cheeks as she stared up at the man who was the reason she was still here. She took a step back, trying to fight against the blush spreading across her face. She saw him smirk and chuckle under his breath and immediately knew that he had seen it before she could shift her glance to the ground between them.
Francis opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Danny as he entered the room. "Hey, Francis, we're getting a little restless up there. And those bastards seem to be gathering again. Are we going to take care of it, or what?"
Francis's grin widened as he made eye contact with Zoey again. "It's time to party, little Zoey. Are you ready to have some fun?"
Zoey followed Danny and Francis back onto the roof. She looked around frantically as the men began picking up their weapons, stocking ammunition into piles beside them as they took a stance at the edge of the room. She watched in horror as Francis followed the other men.
"What are you guys doing? You're not going to kill them, are you?" Zoey asked, walking up beside Francis.
He shot her a crooked smirk and reloaded his gun. "Oh yeah, we are. Grab a gun and start shooting, Zoey."
Francis held out his shotgun, his finger resting on the trigger, when Zoey grabbed a hold of his bicep to stop him. He felt her hand tense up at the contact and turned to look at her with a confused look on his face.
"You can't kill them." Something about it just seemed so…wrong. Her stomach turned at the thought of killing all of them. They weren't human anymore; she had the pleasure of seeing that first hand. But still, the thought alone brought the bitter taste of bile to her mouth.
"Francis, is she serious?" Danny asked as he took up position next to him.
"We're no better than them if you mow them down like this. It's not right." She pleaded.
Francis's eyes darted back and forth between the gathering horde below and the young woman who stood beside him. "I figured you, of all people, would understand why we have to do this. If I saw someone I cared about being killed by those sons of bitches, I don't think I'd ever stop shooting. It's kill or be killed out here now, Zoey. The world you once knew is no more."
Zoey opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was absolutely right. It was because of those soulless creatures below that her parents were killed. It was because of them that everything in this city was going to hell. It was because of them she wasn't going to live long enough to experience life the way she always wanted to.
She looked back up at Francis when he held out a handgun towards her. She felt the other men's eyes on her, watching to see if she would take it or not, but she focused her attention on Francis. He just looked at her without a shred of emotion on his face, as if he wanted to stray from influencing her.
If she took the gun from his hand, he would cheer her on as she pulled that trigger; he would show her how to improve her aim to drop more of those bastards faster. If she didn't, he wouldn't say a word. Not everyone could be heartless son of a bitch like him.
With a shaky hand, Zoey reached for the gun Francis held out to her. He smiled confidently and winked at her when she took a hold of the cold weapon. She looked up at him briefly, her eyes wide with fear and worry before he turned to face the hordes below.
"Alright, guys. Let's show these mother fuckers how it's done!" Francis roared.
Gunfire exploded into the dead evening air. Zoey stumbled back from the group of men as they continued to fire off into the crowd of undead below.
Every fiber of her being was telling her to aim her gun and pull that trigger. She heard the voice inside her head reminding her of her parent's demise, how they were attacked right in front of her. All because of those God damn zombies. But she couldn't. She just couldn't find it in herself to shoot them as mercilessly as the men did.
With tears blurring her vision, Zoey walked to the edge of the roof and watched the slaughter. This was all just so wrong. She could feel it in the depths of her heart. But a part of her, somewhere deep inside of her, told her that this was the only way. Despite chucks of missing flesh and the fact that they had become blood thirsty, they still looked so human.
Her heart was still heavy from those she had to kill to survive over the past few days. She knew their hearts were no longer beating, but how can you ever get used to destroying human bodies like that? Just so you can survive?
Zoey fell to her knees and watched bullets fly into the crowds. Tears fell down her pale cheeks as she watched them fall, one by one, never to get up again. She knew that was a good thing. She knew that they were no longer human and the longer they were left alive, the slimmer her chance of surviving was. But still. They looked so human.
Zoey's eyes trailed from the horde below to the men who lined up alongside the edge of the roof beside her. They were laughing and cheering into the oncoming night as they pulled their triggers, reloading only when they ran out of ammunition.
Had she escaped from the deadly clutches of soulless monsters, or instead, had she willingly run into them?