Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead
Note: Chapters are constantly edited for grammar/spelling corrections. Sometimes chapters may seem different if you happen to reread them.
Among The Bodies: Olive
Warmth left my right side of the body and I fell across the seat, waking up. I adjusted my blurry vision to see Doug holding the truck door open, grinning at me and Aaron, whom was happily crouched in the dirt, obviously grateful to not be confined anymore.
Moaning, I sat up and stepped out. Taking a deep breath, I felt something unfamiliar enter my lungs. I have spent so much time in a diseased-ridden city, filled with trash and corpses that I had completely forgotten what true fresh air was.
It felt good, until I smelled smoke and frowned at the sight of Doug lighting another roll-up. "Why do you have so many cigarettes?" I asked, swatting the disgusting fumes out of my face, trying to conserve my precious air. Doug laughed. "They take the stress away, but no, you ain't getting one."
I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't going to ask for one." Doug shrugged, shutting the door. Taking in my surroundings, we seemed to be in the woods again, but this one different than before. Instead of tall, over hanging trees, there were short trees, and a lot of stumps.
"Where are we?" I asked, stepping over the Aaron, still making love to the dirt. Ok, not really, but he sure looked like he was enjoying himself. "Still on the trail, Bub. I hope you don't mind walking." He answered, gesturing towards a trail that led even deeper into the forest.
I shrugged. "But what about the truck?" "It'll be fine, ain't nobody gonna come and steal my ride. Now c'mon" He pointed to my cookie monster backpack, that lay still in the floor boards. My stomach rumbled at the thought of the food zipped and hidden away and I realized how hungry I was.
"Grab that and get a move on. We got walkin' to do." He hoisted his shotgun up on his shoulder, waiting. Nodding, I reached in for my bag, positioning it comfortably. There was a little hook attached to the bag, probably used to hold pencil bags. I somehow managed to ring my crow bar inside of it so it hanged from the bag. "Ready"
He acknowledged my response, before giving a light kick to Aaron. "You coming boy?" Aaron growled lightly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when half of his face was filthy. Leaning down, I snapped my fingers in front of his face to gain his attention. He turned to face me sharply, confused.
Smiling, I walked away with Doug in the direction of the trail. Needless to say he took the hint, and caught up, slouching by my side opposite of Doug. The old man chuckled lightly. "Cute"
I grinned. "You wish you had a guard dog like me, huh?"
He playfully blew a puff of smoke in my face, and I swat it away. I wonder how long has he been using those dreaded cancer sticks. I rubbed the front of my sneakers on the back of my pants, trying to clean off what little I could. My pants would be nasty, but I don't want dirt in my socks.
"So…Where are we going to?"
"Haven't you been listening, Bub?" I shook my head no. I don't remember him saying anything about our actual destination, since I pretty much slept the entire ride.
"I got a safe place; me and my wife are secluded there, alone. Not a lot of infected in those parts." "You never mentioned you had a wife, what's she like?" He thought for a second. "Olive? Eh, she just a sweetheart, you'll like her for sure. I'm sure she won't mind another mouth to feed, if you can keep ya self, mind you."
I grinned. "I promise I won't take advantage of you. Besides, it would really suck to be alone anyway." He nodded, eyeing my other travel companion. "Maybe, but since ya got ya boyfriend here I wouldn't think that would have been a problem for ya."
Rolling my eyes, I slapped his arm good-naturedly. "He's not my boyfriend, and ew." Doug chuckled, the ashes from his cigar falling into his matching color beard. "We're getting close now, I can already smell the barbeque."
Barbeque? They had barbeque? My mouth was started to run waterworks, and images of the delicate meat filled my mind. Judging by Doug's reaction, my sudden increase in appetite did not go unnoticed.
Neither did Aaron's either. The hunter sniffed the air, suddenly aware of the wonderful aroma of said food. He must have been really hungry, because he was starting to get a bit ahead of us. I snapped out of my own hunger educed dazed, and called out his name.
"Aaron!"
He didn't hear me, maybe I wasn't loud enough?
"Aaron!"
To my disappointment, he didn't respond to my cry. Instead, kept inching forward away from us. Staring at his moving form in confusion, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "He don't know his own name yet, and he'll learn it later, but we need to catch up before my girl shoots him." He stated, speeding up his pace.
That's right; his wife would probably react to Aaron as if he was just another infected if he gets there first. That would NOT be a good first impression at all. Hoisted my bag up higher, I matched his speed.
A house revealed itself among the trees. Old looking, more of a wooden lodger then a house but still stood out from the forest. The stubby trees had gotten thicker and closer the further down the trail we went.
It looked very inviting, actually. Kinda like that old Grandma's house in the woods in the fairytale 'Little Red Riding Hood'. The smell was strong, and I took a big whiff of it, enjoying it.
Doug ran ahead of the leading, crawling hunter. He made it took the front porch, a hand on the door knob and a finger pointing at Aaron, who was sitting on the steps, waiting for the right moment to attacked whatever had the delicious food that he could detect.
"Keep him hush, and stay here, I'll be right out." And with a nod, he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him, fast enough to where Aaron couldn't follow him, obviously.
The hunter winced at the loud noise of the wood slamming, and backed away from the door. I sat next to his crouched person on the stairs prodded his shoulder until I could get his attention. "Now, Aaron, behave yourself." He looked away and I had to poke him again to keep his attention.
Using a parent/teacher/authority like voice, I tried to sound as simple as possible. "These nice people are taking us in, offering food and a safe place to sleep. So attacking or attempting to eat either of them will result in us being kicked out, or worse, me or you being shot. Understand?"
Aaron glared at me from underneath his hood, silent until emitting a rough 'Mrah' sound. Probably saying 'I don't care, I'm hungry' or maybe 'But people are food too' or 'But what if they betray us?' or something like 'I can't understand you, idiot'.
Oh right, I forgot about that.
Sighing, I realized that I was gonna need ways to make him have a good impression. But what could I do at this point? He was a special infected known for singling out survivors and ripping them into pieces to pieces and then feeding on the entrails.
Not exactly a clean record. In fact, even if I dress him up in a suit and bow tie and taught him to do a jig he would still be frightening as hell. My last thought had me vision him in that exact situation. Heh, dancing hunters.
Voices could be heard from inside the house and I could make out a male, most likely Doug's, and a female's, which I'm guessing would have to be his wife. They didn't sound like they were arguing, just like they were unsure, worried or something. All the more reason to be worried about how I was going to present him.
Taking off the period pads off his leg would be a start. I reached for the padding and Aaron looked from the door to my moving hands, growling in surprise. I grabbed hold of the wrapping and pulled them off in a swift motion, almost expecting claws to be driven across my face.
There was a loud rip sound, then that was it. I threw the padding to the side in a bush and left them to be forgotten there. After wards, I took full observation of his wound, and needless to say, I wasn't sure to be baffled, surprised, or impressed. Maybe all three.
The wound healed up better than I thought it would, hardly leaving a scar. The flesh that was once slashed and bloody was now just a sketch in the skin. It seemed as if he was attacked by a rabid raccoon more than a blood thirsty Witch.
Satisfied with how his leg had healed up, I made grab for his hoodie, lifting it up enough to see the bandages on his midsection. Aaron yelped in surprise, and forcefully pushed me away to the other end other end of the stairs, growling softly in warning.
I leaned back, hands raised up and feeling slightly hurt. "Geez, sorry." He just glared in which I responded with crossed arms and a 'whatever' look. "I just wanted to know if you were ok…"
The wooden door creaked open and Doug peaked his head and his ash filled beard outside. "I let Olive know that he ain't gon be a problem, as long as ya help keep them in check." I nodded, understanding that if in any way or form did Aaron go nuts; I'd have to handle him.
The inside of the house was warm and cozy, and smelled like home cooking. The wave of aroma hit me like a tidal wave the way in. Olive was standing in the middle of the room, holding a tray of what I hoped would be the 'dinner' that I've been thinking non-stop about.
"I assume you're Zoey," She smiled, old age clearly showing on her features. From what I could tell, she must have been absolutely gorgeous when she was younger. "And this is…." Her gaze traveled to Aaron, who crept from behind me, curious to the new company. He let out a soft, but clear growl.
Doug and I stiffened, and Olive took a step back, her smile faltering. "He's not usually this way!" I defended him, quickly trying to think of things to say to make the situation slightly less hostile.
"His name is Aaron, or at least that's what we call him. We don't really know his real name-" "He's a good kid, Olive, let em grow on ya." Doug interrupted, taking a seat on worn sofa. At this point I noted how everything in their home was…woody.
Olive took a small gasp at our words. She glanced at Doug and me, before staring at Aaron, and in return he glared back. The room was silent. Inside my head, I prayed my stomach didn't rumble from being this close to a fine meal, it would be broadcasted to everybody.
She put the tray down on the coffee table, and smiled again, but instead of a polite smile, it was a sad, but heartfelt one. Something about her look told me that she reacted to the fact that we had given him the name Aaron.
"May I ask how you chose his name?" She asked, the fear that she had displayed before had disappeared. Nervously, I fumbled with the straps of my backpack, wondering how foolish I look walking around with such a childish thing.
"Uh, Doug actually helped me choose the name." I directed the attention to Doug. He shrugged. "What? It's a good name for him." His wife sat down on the sofa beside him, sighing. He grinned, putting arm around her frail shoulders. Standing awkwardly, I tried to think of something to say.
Aaron, feeling ignored behind me, crouched and crawled closer to the coffee table, nearer to Doug and Olive. He didn't seem to mind the approach, but Olive sat there observing him, more out of curiosity of what he might do then out of fear.
The hunter was about to make a move for the food, I could tell. Dropping the backpack on the floor, I strutted over and prodded him away from the food. He replied with an annoyed snarl. "That's not yours, and it's rude to get food without asking anyway."
Shockingly, Olive laughed. She had a pleasing voice, I noted. "As long as he washes his hands he can have his own plate." I chuckled. This was going better than expected; all I had to do was show that I was in control. "You and the boys go wash up, I'll get us some plates."
She got up, patted down her shirt and disappeared into another room. Doug got up too, and gestured to the door. "We ain't got no plumbing, but there a well out back. Know how to use it?" I shrugged. It couldn't be that hard, right? I've seen tons of movies with wells in them, that's good enough, right?
"You go ahead and wash up then, and take em with ya." I picked my backpack up off the floor, tossing it beside the door where Doug's shotgun lay. "You're not coming?" He shook his head. "Nah, I got something to do, Bub. Don't worry I'll wash up before dinner. Now get."
I giggled, walking outside. "C'mon Aaron, you need a bath anyway." He followed the sound of my voice, but I bet if he could have understood my statement, he wouldn't have. Around the house was the well, right where they said it was. It looked old but operational. There was a bucket and a pump, our makeshift 'sink'.
Placing the bucket underneath the pump, I tried to get as much water as I could. My hands started hurting and I decided that half a bucket of water was good enough. Aaron watched from a distance as water seemed to appear from nowhere. It watched as if he was watching magic happen.
I grinned at his fascination. Crouching down, I rolled up my sleeves and placed my hands in the water, scrubbing as much dirt as I could off. The cold weather along with water made my hands freeze, and I wanted to get then clean as fast as possible. Then I remembered that I still had to do Aaron's.
Said hunter was watching my moving hands. At this point I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Disgust? Amazement? Boredom? His hood downwards shielded his face, and left it a mystery. Ah, oh well. We're still hungry.
I took his clawed hands in mine, ignoring his dislike of skin contact, and immediately took them back when I realized that his claws were still caked with dried blood. He needed much more of a cleaning then I did. Taking his fingers gently, I pushed them slowly into the water.
Aaron snarled at the sudden contact and tugged away his wrist, but I kept them in my grasp, quickly trying to scrape off whatever I could before he decided to run. The water inside the bucket began to turn a strange, brown-red color, and skin began to show beneath the filth.
His hands wasn't a didn't have green tint to it, like the other infected, but more of a blue one. His hands looked almost human, if not for the black razor sharp, flesh tearing claws at the ends of his fingers.
I was so distracted by his hands; I was unprepared when he jerked them away from the bucket, nicking me in the process. From how to was curling his hands into his hoodie, he had gotten fed up with the cold. So was I, but now I had to clean my hands again!
Dumping out the contaminated water, I pumped some more, just enough for me. Washing again, I dumped the rest out, and made my way back inside. Aaron followed without sound or command.
Doug was coming out as I was going in, and I smelt something on him as he passed. It smelt suspiciously like gun powder and something sweet. I didn't say anything of it, gun powder was not an unfamiliar smell by now, and I couldn't think of anything of anything dangerous that smelled sweet.
"In here, dear!" Olive called me from the other room when she heard the door shut. I entered their kitchen, admiring all the stich work paintings hung up on the walls. The tray from before had its contents separated into pieces, with leftovers still in the tray. We heard the front door open and shut and Doug walked in behind me.
"That didn't take long" I teased, and he only chuckled. "Bout slipped on the mud you left over, Bub. Nasty." I punched his arm, and he punched back, lighter. Olive took notice. "Now, no rough housing in my house either sits down and eat like people or go outside and eat like dogs." She said playfully, placing forks and knives by each plate.
I took a seat at their four chaired table, Doug beside me and Olive beside him. Aaron crouched at my side, reminding me of a begging dog. "Can he sit at the table too?" I almost expected her to say no. "Well, only if he wants to…" She sounded unsure, wondering if he if had enough humanity in him to act human. Or was that something that I was wondering?
But instead of having to come up with some scheme to get him in a chair, he figured it out on his own, and with a light scowl, crawled over and sat in the remaining chair. Still crouching.
"…That's as close as we'll get, honey." Doug grabbed a fork, tearing into the meat. Olive sighed. "I hope you like Barbeque, I never expected to have any guest today, not like there is a problem with that." She added in.
Shrugging, I grabbed my own fork, and stuck it in the meat. The temptation to throw the fork aside and chow down was strong, but I wanted to keep my manners. "Don't worry about it, I was really worried about what you might think of us, actually-"
I was interrupted by the sound of something tearing. We all turned our attention to Aaron, whom was happily ripping the meat apart and swallowing it in large proportions. After every bite he would emit a small snarl, like a feral beast feasting on a successful kill.
Turning to the other humans, I expected them to be disgusted. But Doug was just calmly eating, not effected by Aaron's lack of manners. Olive seemed to be blissfully ignoring it, cutting her food and eating it delicately. There was silence, as fumbled with my fork, once again in an awkward position. How did it become so hard to communicate these last couple of hours?
"So Zoey, tell me how you two met, hmm?" Olive spoke up. In my head cheered for a conversation topic, even if it included something sad. "Doug didn't' tell you? It's a bit of a long story." Olive smiled, and I could see Doug grinning himself in my peripheral vision. "We got time; we're not that old, ya know." We laughed, and Aaron stopped his eating momentarily to listen to our merriment.
I caught my breath, almost choking on my food. "Well, it all began when I and my former group came upon a house in the woods."
My brain is hurting. My hands are hurting. And I have NO idea where I am going with the story all of a sudden.
The original plan that I had going for the story was throw out the window by chapter 7. If I had stuck to the original, then the story would have been over already…and not with a good ending. I want more action in my story, but I'm trying to find a point where I can place it. Also, apology for the late update. I'm posting this at 12:33AM. I started writing hours ago. Distractions happen, and now my eyes hurt. And my cat is eating my hair as I type.
Remember the Black Market? Yeah, that's going to be a big part of the story in the next couple of chapters. If you notice an error or leave a review, leave a suggestion too. I don't want to catch the Writer's Block disease.