Disclaimer: Left 4 Dead, et al is full property of VALVe. Anya is a product of my own imagination and zombie obsession.
The streets were disconcertingly calm as the motley crew walked. They were all alert and waiting for something to just jump out of them. Anya froze, eyes going wide. The others stopped, looking at her. Zoey was the only one that seemed to be at least understanding of why the woman had stopped. Francis and Bill, at least to Anya, seemed to have something against her, and they tended to ignore her almost entirely since they had joined up. Louis was playing the faithful bodyguard to them all.
"Don't you hear that?" The blonde woman asked, looking around frantically as she shut off the flashlight. She had forgotten her own, but luckily Zoey seemed gracious enough to give her one to use. "I hear... I hear sobbing."
"It's probably just another witch. I hate witches. They do nothing but cry and sit there in our way. I say we find her and blow her head off." Francis piped up instantly, always eager to shove his opinion down everyone's throats. He shifted the automatic shotgun on his back, looking too eager to pull it off and shoot just about anything.
"Now now, Francis, we don't have to be hasty," Louis scolded, being careful to not step over the boundaries that had been formed after so long. "Maybe we can just sneak past her."
Anya had an idea entirely different. Maybe it was possible to kill her without having her chase them, but still keep the threat from popping up again. She was still new to this whole concept, though it was near impossible for her to have experienced much of anything. Granted, they had encountered a hunter and a boomer, but those should be the least of their worries right now.
Survival is key.
"Okay, we need to kill her as quick as possible, like Francis said, but we can't alert any more zombies. This is a pleasant treat; so few have come after us so far."
Bill scoffed at the brunette's suggestion. It wasn't like she had any right to say anything, or so he assumed. She didn't know any better than Zoey did, but at least he respected Zoey. Anya, after sensing this subtle hostility, sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Look, I spent a lot of summers working with troubled teens. The witch is a lot like that. I guess they call them 'emo' kids. We have to either comfort her and risk being killed, or eliminate the problem." Anya spoke shortly, keeping it to the point the best she could, and waited for a response. She wasn't suggesting that all emotionally troubled teenagers be shot in the head with a semi-automatic shotgun by any means, and she hoped that was made clear, though considering her company, she thought that was unlikely.
Francis rolled his eyes and just started walking. After a few steps, he stopped and spoke: "We'll continue with our methods, missy. We don't need yer pretend leadership. That'll git you killed sooner."
Zoey stood by Anya's side, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving an apologetic look. The three men, though so different, seemed to have one thing in common: none of them really cared for the new girl. She was so nervous, but she didn't have any idea what else to do. The blonde girl couldn't do much as far as objecting.
A moment later, the girls, who had decided to pursue their own adventures and hope for the best for the men, heard a loud scream. They exchanged looks and dashed for the source of the sound. They turned the corner just in time to see Bill pulling Louis up and Francis delivering a spray of shotgun blasts to the fussing witch's head. Zoey winced, but Anya kept a cool face. Not much phased her, after the life that she had led.
Anya wasn't old, but her spirit was. She had a gift, though she would call it a curse, for empathy and feeling the emotions of others. It tired her and wore her out, and after years of watching the pain and suffering of others, and suffering herself, she became numb to it. Maybe if they made it out of the city, she'd share a little bit more.
"Louis, what did you do to piss her off?" Francis asked as soon as he had slung the gun across his back again. He shrugged his shoulders, hoping to adjust the weight of the weapon. He and Bill exchanged nervous looks, almost anxious to keep going on. They knew that after a tank and a witch could only come a horde... or another tank. Neither of those options seemed promising.
The crew didn't say anything to the females joining them again, and they started walking while Louis tried to explain that he had simply forgotten to turn his light off and he was just looking around. It wasn't such a simple mistake; if the two others hadn't been there, Louis could be dead right now.
"So, Anya..." Louis said, hoping to take the subject off of himself and onto her. "What did you do before the zombies came?"
Anya didn't have the chance to answer before Bill piped up. "You idiot, come on. This isn't time for some question and answer session. You thought it was bad when we survived crossing the street. Really..."
The blonde girl sighed and looked away, trying to seem thoughtful, yet dismissive. It was her goal to appear aloof, but still functional. So far, she had been failing at this, but there was always time to redo first impression. Well, that's what she thought.
"Louis, to answer you..." Anya started to say as the crew continued to walk down the streets. Occasionally, a zombie would jump out and someone would shoot them. "I was a music student with an unfortunate interest in studying zombie flicks and games."
"A musician that can weild a gun? What kinda crazy are ya?" Francis asked this, much to her shock. She didn't think he would pay much attention to her.
"My father was in the Army," she replied, getting a glance from Bill, who she could have only guessed as a military man. "He taught my younger brother and I how to shoot."
"So... what happened to your brother?" Zoey asked. There was no way any of them could have known that was a sensitive subject, but when Anya shied away it became apparent. Anya, though, was never the type to leave such an important question unanswered.
"My... my brother was killed. He was... one of the first infected during the outbreak. That's why I'm fighting. I want to find him... if he's still alive."
"You know the chance of that is slim, Anya," Zoey replied, looking all to sympathetic for the girl's unfortunate loss.
"Yes, I do know," Anya asked. "But it's worth a shot as long as there's still a chance."
Francis came back to them, noticing how they had stopped. Bill and Louis stopped after a few more steps. Zoey stood by Anya's side. All of them looked at each other, but the gaze ended on Anya when it was all said and done. There was something respectable about this dream, even if it was already crushed. Zoey was the only one brave enough to speak.
"We're with you, Anya."