A/N: I should call this the half-awake challenge, because that seems to be how I am when I write these. I hope it makes sense. Sorry if it doesn't. I'm passing out now. Enjoy?
Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead or the characters/world therein.
30 Day Challenge 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothing
Funny how things go from good to bad to horrible so quickly.
The day had been bright and sunny; the first warm day they had had in a long time. Zoey had been tempted to leave her pink jacket behind when Francis asked her to go out on a supply run with him. The only reason she had bothered to take it at all was because it was her lucky jacket and, since they were leaving the safety of their new home, she figured a little bit of luck wouldn't hurt. Francis didn't complain. He still refused to wear anything other than his lucky vest whenever he did anything that wasn't sleeping.
The two left the prison on foot because Francis hated driving in cars and he really hated riding I them unless it was a life or death emergency. The first time he had called Zoey a Cager for suggesting it, she had almost fallen over laughing before realizing he was serious. Since that time, she had stopped asking if he wanted to go on foot or by car. It was one of the reasons Francis didn't go on supply runs very often. He and Bill usually stayed and kept an eye on things at their new home while Louis and Zoey went out to get whatever goods they all felt they needed. That Francis was one of the two heading out meant that what they were doing was close or they were doing something that probably warranted them needing a little extra luck.
The two prepared for their supply run early to be sure they'd be ready to leave the moment the sun went down. Despite Zoey figuring they wouldn't have to be as careful as they used to- there were a lot less zombies roaming than there used to be form what she could tell- Bill made her promise to wait until it was night. She figured he was being paranoid, but did as he asked anyways. No point in starting a fight over it. Francis had his handy shotgun and a pistol, as well as a large duffel bag for supplies. Zoey had two pistols and a sniper rifle slung across her back in case she needed it. She also had a health pack in case one of them needed it. Francis said he didn't need that stuff slowing him down, especially since he was going to be the pack mule, much to Bill's annoyance. After the veteran and the former office worker wished the two luck and made them swear to come back in one piece- with the supplies- the biker and the college dropout were off to get what they could; and if that didn't sound like the synopsis of the worst movie ever, Zoey didn't know what did.
Things didn't get bad until they had been out for about half the day, walking down the abandoned road ways towards the small town they had been gathering things from since they found the prison. There weren't many normal infected out and about. Those were easy to pick off and would have been little more than a minor annoyance to the survivors who had been through so much and had easily killed over a hundred of those things before. There were, however, an abundance of the special things; the ones that had evolved into something worse than the usual brain-eaters. None of the four survivors knew what made some people become mindless zombies and what made some become specials, but whatever it was had been happening to make them special had been happening a lot during the winter.
The last fourth of the journey was spent running like hell with a pack of hunters on their tails. Bullets flew through the air, but getting one to actually hit the agile zombies was difficult at best, and scoring a kill with only one bullet was damn near impossible. It didn't help matters that they had to constantly watch out for the hoodie-clad things pouncing them from any direction. A group of hunters was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to a group of hunters that was acting together like an animal pack. That wasn't fair. It really wasn't. Even less fair was losing her health pack, the only one between the two of them, when the shoulder strap snapped. Or maybe that was bad luck. Zoey didn't know, but she didn't have time to stop or pick it up. All she could do was resolve to grab it on their way back. A trip they would be making because they would make it out of the situation alive. She told herself that, as though it would help her believe.
"Up ahead!" Zoey shouted, pointing at a large church with her gun before having to swing the firearm to the right and pump several bullets into one of their chasers before it got her.
The church was the only overly large building in town with the exception of the mall. The
massive wooden door would be a bitch to move, but the survivors would be set for a while if they could get it between them and the hunters. The windows would be a problem, especially because of the hunters' ability to jump, but at least it meant there were only so many places the zombies could be coming from. Over all, it was a lot better than being stuck running down an open road.
The biker didn't have to tell Zoey he understood her plan. Getting to the church was the obvious thing to do and, even if it hadn't been, he had been working along Zoey for long enough to get her way of thinking without her having to say anything- at least, that was how it was with zombie things that their lives depended on. Instead of saying anything, he focused on covering their front and left sides, trusting her to get the back and right. What he didn't expect was to hear the sound of her two pistols clicking empty. For half a second, he glanced over at his companion to see if she was really out or just had to reload. From that point on, everything happened in slow motion.
Zoey's hands were moving the moment she realized she was out, reaching for the next clip and finding nothing to replenish her ammunition with. When the realization dawned that there was nothing left, she holstered the two guns and swung the rifle around. It wasn't ideal for quick targets as close as the hunters were, but it was all she had left. As she was doing that, one of the pack saw there chance and released a fierce growl as it leaped towards the pink jacket that covered the girl's back. Blood red claws were outstretched, ready to dig into soft flesh and add a fresh coat of blood to the hunter's massive talons.
Without thinking about it, Francis moved to the side as he ran, hitting Zoey with his shoulder to get her out of the way. The unexpected force was enough to make the young woman trip over her own feet and fall to her side, but it got her away just in time. Unfortunately for the tattooed man, the action put him in the way. Unable to change it's course mid-jump, the hunter kept it's claws out in front to get what it could before landing. It ended up hitting the biker in the shoulder with enough force to knock the man down. Which person was taken down didn't matter to the hunters. As soon as one of them had fallen- ridden to the ground by one of the back- they all pounced in an attempt to get to their prey.
It didn't take long after hitting the ground for Zoey to roll on her side enough to take aim with her gun. She didn't worry about running. She didn't worry about getting away. She didn't think about how many bullets she had left. Instead, the brunette aimed and started shooting at the hunters in as quick succession as she could. With adrenaline pumping and everything seeming slower, so much slower, than it really was, she was able to take out four of them mid-air. If they lived through the trip and made it back to the prison, she would have to brag about those four shots for a long time. Of course, she would have to worry about that after she got the hunter that had taken Francis down off of the man and the two of them got somewhere safe.
Scrambling to her feet, the brunette launched herself forward and shouldered the hunger off of her fellow survivor. Before it could pounce at her in retaliation, she shot it in the head and it dropped to the ground in an unmoving heap with a dull thud that sounded much louder it was in the sudden silence. The hunters had been so loud while chasing them. The lack of their growls and yells was almost surreal in a way. A pained groan cut through the silence and, suddenly, time moved at a normal pace.
Soft brown eyes blinked dumbly, trying to figure out what to do. It had been a long time, too long, since they were in such a dire situation and Zoey took loner than she should have to react. It took longer than it should have to register what she should have been doing. Longer than it should have for her to rush forward and pull the biker up. That Francis was alive enough to help himself stand and run with Zoey as a crutch was a blessing for the girl, who was sure she wouldn't have been able to drag Francis quickly enough if he had been dead weight. He had too many pounds on her for her to be able to move him that far that fast.
The immediate threat was gone, but that didn't stop the blood flowing from the initial wound the hunter inflicted while downing the large man or the subsequent ones that had been inflected before Zoey could get the zombie off of him. She felt worse than guilty knowing that her stupid pause got the man she cared about the most- not that she didn't love Louis and Bill like family- hurt and almost killed. She knew that the scent of blood would attract more zombies. It wasn't a matter of if they showed up, it was a matter of when and neither she nor Francis had the ammo to take on a full horde in that moment. She wasn't even sure Francis could use his gun properly. He was looking very cut up. She knew she needed the supplies in her red and white pack, but with the blood he was losing, she didn't know if she had time to get it. They had covered more ground than she thought either of them could in a short time and Francis was bleeding pretty bad.
Deciding to go back to it the first chance she got, Zoey left the health pack behind them in favor of helping Fancis to the church. The biker shot off the lock on the massive doors as soon as they were within range. The doors were worse than heavy, but the two were able to push them open enough to allow them to enter. Doing so made the wound on the biker's shoulder where the hunter's claw had first dug in worse, but he didn't complain about it. Francis would complain about hating things all day and all night to anyone who would listen, but that was different to him than the annoying 'woe is me, I'm so sad' complaining he had heard from many people before. If he was going to complain about something, it would be with anger because anger wasn't as bad a angst as far as the biker was concerned.
Once in, the two had to push the door close again, which they did. Immediately afterward, Zoey was pulling Francis' vest off. While he had imagined her doing something like that before- a few times before- he doubted it would end the way it did in his fantasies. Still, he couldn't hold back a small laugh that ended in a pained hiss and a snarky, "I know I said I'd wait until you were ready for this, but is now really the best time?"
Much to Francis' surprise, Zoey was taking off her lucky jacket and her shirt as she answered him, "Oh yeah, now's totally the best time. Can't think of anything better. Turn around."
When the shocked, and still bleeding too much for the ex-student's liking, Francis didn't do as he was told, Zoey rolled her eyes and walked behind him. She had folded up her shirt as quickly at possibly and pressed it down on the deepest gash- the one on his shoulder where the claws had first hit- as hard she as she could. The biker's grunt of pain was ignored as Zoey tied her jacket around the large man as tight as she possibly could to keep the shirt in place. She looked her work over, satisfied that it would due until she ran back out there and got proper bandages from the medkit.
"I'm fine, you know," Francis turned around and would have crossed his arms if it weren't for the fact that that would have hurt. "I appreciate you stripping to make me feel better and all, but you didn't have to do that. C'mon, think about all the other shit I've survived so far. Some wussie hunter scratch is nothing."
Zoey scowled and picked up the leather vest she had taken from her fellow survivor, "This is the safest place for us to be until you stop bleeding. The faster we get it to stop, the faster we can get the stuff we came here for and go home."
A large hand reached out for the vest, but the article of clothing was pulled away before he could grab it. Instead of giving it back, Zoey put it on to cover her bra. The sight of her in the obviously too big vest, arms crossed and huffing at Francis, daring him to say a single thing to the contrary, was adorable. Having someone around who cared for him had been new when the apocalypse had started, but he had grown to really like it when that person was Zoey; especially because she didn't coddle or baby him whenever she had to patch him up. She glared at him or told him to stop being a baby. It made being fussed over less annoying.
The biker grinned and shook his head, "Yeah, yeah. Great. If Bill gets all pissy because we didn't finish our mission fast enough, I'm telling him its your fault."
"Fine," Zoey crossed her arms, "I'm not giving you your vest back."