Monster

Yep. Another chapter in the mass update. Yay?

I don't own the Left 4 Dead franchise!

Sixteen

I avoided Coach for days. Every time he caught my eye, I would find myself going red, and someone in the vicinity to see my face would think I was ill. It was usually Zoey, and I was beginning to think that she knew what was going on - I'd seen her talking with Coach, and the conversation held a lot of glances at me. I went red again, to no surprise. I even stopped visiting Francis for a week, until I actually heard him talking about me - in his sleep. Eventually, my endless excuses of why I couldn't go on watch over Francis were overlooked, and now I had to do a shift. Fortunately, it was a night shift, and he was asleep. I was calm and composed until he started the night talking.

"Ro..." At first, I assumed it was an incoherent mumble, so I dismissed it. Them came a second, more insistent cry.

"Francis?" I whispered. Maybe he was awake? He didn't answer.

"Ro, please..." Francis whined quietly. I was completely bewildered.

"Francis?" I shook his tattoo-covered arm. "Francis!" He gave a quiet snort, before settling back down. I found it disconcerting when he was suddenly silent; and the chatter of Zoey and Coach in the corner fell quiet. I sat back, half-disappointed, and continued my watch. After an hour, I felt myself get tired, and I couldn't help giving in to the tidal wave of blackness. I fell asleep.

"Ro!" I found myself being shook awake. I could barely hear myself over the sound of gunfire, and when an arm landed beside me I shot to my feet. Swaying from low blood pressure, Zoey steadied me, before pushing a Magnum into my hands.

"Zoey... what-" I began dazedly.

"No time!" she shushed me hurriedly, before lifting her own gun to hold off more Infected. Blinking, I turned to see our attackers, and I felt the hairs on my neck and arms stand when I saw them. A heaving mass of Common Infected struggled to get through the jammed doors, and when one stumbled through it was shot down. The doors, I saw, which were ajar, were being pried wider with each minute. I raised the pistol with experience-steady hands, blowing holes through the arms and heads of the attackers who breached the entrance. I heard the loud explosion of a Desert Eagle, and I winced when I remembered Nick hitting my chest with one of the bullets now burying themselves in the Infected's bodies. Together, as a team, we all managed to kill off the Infected, leaving a pile of mangled corpses in the doorway. Ellis jumped lightly off one of the Infected he'd gored. He began to creep away, but stopped in his tracks. His lips parted in a snarl, and he bounded away into the rafters of the barn. My blood went cold as watched him flee, pure terror etched on his features.

"What spooked him?" Zoey asked. "Did he hear something? Like a cat?" I strained my ears to listen, but I couldn't hear anything.

"Ellis, what..." I trailed off when I felt a tremor in the floor. It came again after a moment's pause; then again. It built a rhythm, and increased in ferocity as whatever was causing it approached the barn. I saw Louis sending Zoey a horrified look.

"Tank!"

-Monster-Monster-Monster-Monster-

The doors blasted off their hinges. The beast stood silhouetted in the dawn light, tendon-thick arms hanging by its sides. I saw narrowed yellow eyes glowing in the gloom, before it charged forwards and slammed a fist into Zoey. I heard the breath be forcibly pushed from her as it smashed into her stomach like a rock, then she barreled into me and we both crashed into a pile of loose hay. I heard the familiar peppering of bullets, but they were cut off suddenly. I looked up blearily, hauling Zoey off of me, and I stopped breathing when I saw the others lying flat on the floor. Louis moaned around a broken jaw, and Coach was curled up,

groaning, beside Nick, who had a deep gash in his head. Ellis lay crumpled in a heap by the Tank's feet, and it turned its glare on me when the others were fallen. Lumbering over, it gazed over me for a moment, before looking up at Francis' groan. I cursed his timing. Crawling painfully over round the hay to reach him, I hooked an AK-47 with my boot and aimed it at the Tank. As it raised a hand to crush Francis, I opened fire, and it bellowed with rage as it turned to face me again. I stayed focused at its feet shook the ground, and I braced myself, but as it raised a hand to crush me, it suddenly went limp, fell to its knees, and was still. Its huge body caused a tremor like an aftershock as it landed. Clambering stiffly to my feet, I dragged myself to check on the others.

"Louis?" I leaned over the unconscious man. His jaw was cleanly torn from his skull; the skin ripped and bleeding profusely. I winced. Looking over Zoey and Coach, I saw they both had broken ribs, and Nick had concussion. His skull might even be fractured. What made be dread the worst, however, was Ellis. A pool of blood surrounded him, and he was twisted awkwardly. I tried to roll him over, but he whimpered in pain, tears leaking down his face. He stared up at me with those orange, strangely human-like eyes, as if begging me to help him.

"I don't know how!" I whispered aloud. He turned his head away, but flinched, and fresh tears made an appearance. His grimy face was streaked with them. I lightly pressed his sides and limbs. Nothing broken. But when I reached his back and neck, I almost cried too. His spine was wrenched out of place; almost hooked around his ribs, pushing against his organs and threatening to snap. I gagged. Ellis blinked up at me, and when he saw my expression, he let out a choked sob. A tear rolled down his cheek again, and I felt one on my face too. I didn't wipe it away; I just sat and cried with him. It wasn't fair. First, he was a Hunter, and he'd been beaten, shot, hated, and now this. Why Ellis? Why, out of all people, did it have to be this lovable young kid? I pressed my palms into my eyes in an effort to stop crying. I lifted them when I heard another choking noise, and I scooted away instinctively when I saw Ellis throwing up. The putrid concoction of blood and bile dripped out of his mouth, and when he was done, he curled up, whimpering and shivering. Tears mixed with his blood. I ignored the blood, and I moved to side beside him. He stopped moaning, and shut his eyes. I wondered whether to wake him, as he may slip into a coma. But he looked so peaceful, I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I left him to sleep.