Prepare yourselves for more Keith stories and lots of Smoker humor. If you haven't noticed yet, the Survivors are from Left 4 Dead 2 and the setting is up north (during the ends of winter) instead. Also, the characters' speech patterns tend to switch when they get agitated, excited, or nervous. This rule mainly applies to Ellis and his lovely anecdotes. Oh, and there's a small hint to just what the next "invention" will be for the next chapter. Try guess!

Disclaimer: I don't own Left 4 Dead, its characters, and its concepts.

Warnings: Language, violence, gore, homosexuality.

Human Inventions of Varying Usefulness

Chapter 3 "Flashlights"

I swish and creep beneath a darkened forest, my eye glints in the early morning rays. The trees drape over me, keeping me hidden from their sight.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

I smirk at their bickering. They cannot comprehend their impending doom. My eye darts left and right—even though I can't see anything, it's still cool—and I steady myself. Poised, I prepare to strike like how an eagle looms over its feeble, defenseless prey.

"Are we there yet?"

"NO!"

Now, which one will it be? The large one and the girl are in front, so it'll have to be either the small one or mean one. So many choices.

"How 'bout-"

"How about YOU stop talking or I'll personally feed you to that bastard following us!"

…They know I'm behind them? I know I'm not as good at being sneaky as Jack, but-

"Ah, c'mon. It's not like there's anythin' else ta do. Let me have some fun for once!"

"This is not fun. Fun is when we get out of this hell. So shut your trap and let's try play a little game called 'Shut the fuck up or I'll pump you full of lead.' Okay?"

I cough loudly. Damn it, I promised Jack that I'd be able to handle them for a day.

"Goddamn Smoker! You're doing it on purpose, aren't cha?" screams the loud one. He fires off his weapon and I quickly duck and take cover behind a thick tree. Mission failed.

"Stop it! It's not like Mocha's doin' anythin' wrong!"

The loud noises stop suddenly. I peek around the battered bark and stare at the Survivors.

"…You named it?"

I have a name?

"Yeah. I'm guessin' it's the same Smoker from before that knocked me over a shed door. I thought it'd be fittin' ta name him that."

Mocha?

"I'm probably going to regret this…but why did you name it Mocha?" The Survivor shivers as if a cold wind came over him.

"Oh! Tha's 'cause this one time, me an' my buddy Keith both went hitchhikin' ta the nearest outlet mall. It was the best. Anyway, Keith an' me went an' ordered the first thing we saw. Wasn't nothin' expensive or anythin', we couldn't afford too much. So we went an' ordered a coffee from this 'ere Starbucks. Ya heard of those things before, right?"

"Go on, Ellis, sweetie. Let's just keep walking."

"Alright. So as I was sayin', we were first-timers there so we let the nice lady in front choose for us. We paid for it, an' went down ta share it—in two cups, mind you. I thought it was too bitter ta be any good, but Keith downed the entire cup in less than a minute. Then he started chokin' and shit, an' I thought it went down the wrong pipe. Anyway, long story short, Keith was taken ta the hospital an' the shop got sued or somethin' for negligence an' poor hygiene. The place looked clean enough ta me, though."

The other three Survivors sigh deeply. I'm not sure about them, but that was a very interesting story. I'd love to hear more from…Ellis was it? I don't know what this Keith is though. Is he a pet?

"Chil', your Keith stories are great time-killers. Look guys, we've gone and reached a town!" says the large Survivor.

"About time," says the mean one. "Let's hurry up and find that Safe House already."

"So, did you screw up yet?" asks Jack.

"Well," I say. "Not exactly. I didn't get shot or anything."

"You blew your cover, didn't you?"

"…Yeah-"

"I knew it," exclaims Jack, his arms flailing. "Just eat your food. Do you know how hard it is to catch something around here nowadays?"

Food is food. Eat it and thank him.

"It's good. Thanks, Jack."

"This is just payback for last time. C'mon, we'd better get moving."

We finish off the meaty carcass of whatever Jack had caught. He also thought up the idea of hiding the blankets for ourselves so we don't misplace them. I set them under some beds in the next room. Then we make our way towards the Safe House a few blocks away. It's always important to keep tabs on the Survivors. If you let them out of your sight for a minute, you just might lose them.

After eating, I take notice that I tend to stop coughing for a bit. I suppose not everything can be fixed with food, but I'm really happy for the silence. Plus, it's easier to talk without the raw feeling in my throat. It's nice.

"Hey Jack, what do you do when you're not hunting for food?" I ask.

"Dunno," says Jack. "That's all I ever do."

"Nothing else?"

There a few wandering Commons to the right of us. They see us walking through and part ways. I think they're a little smart. Mostly dumb but I'm sure they have some sense in them.

"Well, I guess whenever I'm bored and not hungry, I go off to…amuse myself." Jack smiles.

"Amuse? To have fun?"

"Yeah, fun. Like mess around with the Commons. Sometimes, I go off to spook a horde or just tear into one of them. They're like cows, almost."

…That's sounds boring. Is it really that fun?

We're about a block away now, the house with the red door in sight. I turn to face Jack while we scale the side of it, staying away from the windows, so the Survivors don't see us. Once we reach the top, I sit down on the ledge and start practicing my aim. I've been rather rusty since I met Jack.

What do I do for fun?

"Hey, Jack. Do you know how to open a door?"

"This is stupid. This is so, so stupid."

"No, it's not! It's important that we can both open doors so things can be safer."

Jack's been having trouble turning the evil doorknob. I eye it warily, the cold metal glinting something fierce. At least there's not a whole lot of snow around. I don't want it biting my tongue again.

Jack is less gentle.

"Argh!" screams Jack, his claws scraping against the obstruction.

For our own safety, I think it's for the best that we stay out of the hearing distance of the Survivors. I don't know what they might do if they see us.

"I hear a Hunter!" Apparently, we aren't far away enough.

Jack stops his conquest of the door, and we make our way out of the deserted house. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Survivors making their way to our house. They've been taking turns patrolling the surrounding neighborhood since they got to the Safe House so early. Well, it's the afternoon, so maybe they're just tired.

"Oh, damn. I bet it's that Hunter from before! I was wonderin' where he went off to!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're happy about this. Need I remind you, you nearly got flattened by it under a shed door."

It's those two guys again. I motion Jack to get up to the roof so we can watch them talk. I hope my coughing doesn't give us away…again.

"Oh, shucks. Tha's nothin'. You should've seen me an' Keith when we were younger. See, we lived near this 'ere cattle ranch close ta our homes. The place was a dump! The roads weren't paved an' the fences might've as well been knocked down. Heck, a pile of logs would've been better.

"Anyway, it was nighttime an' Keith said he was tryin' ta learn how ta ride a proper horse. Since there weren't none around, he just moseyed over an' found the first bull he could find."

"Am I to venture that he ended up—oh, I don't know—breaking every bone in his body, or maybe starting a stampede?"

"Nah, he ended up ridin' the fella right into the owner's kitchen. Dish soap an' cattle manure in the worst places! Man, oh man…that was a hoot."

This Keith must be the greatest beast in the world. And if this Ellis is his owner, then I mustn't let myself be drawn into thinking him weak. He must be the true leader of the Survivors. A worthy adversary indeed.

The mean one must then be his sidekick. It's only natural if they're together all the time. Wait, so does that make me Jack's? I'll ask him later.

"I swear these stories are getting more outrageous by the day. Are you sure you weren't fed paint chips when you were a kid?"

"Scout's honor!" says the leader, his hands making a sign on his head. "I ain't makin' anythin' up, Nick. Honest!"

Jack hits me in the shoulder—we've developed a form of communication early one—and I know that he's getting bored. I follow him around back to the edge and he whispers to me, his growling turns to a slight purr.

"Do you think the Survivors have anything good in their Safe House to eat?"

"Yeah," I reply. "They need to eat, too. I think they keep them somewhere in the back."

"Okay, I think I have a plan. I'm hungry and from the sounds your stomach's making, I know you are, too." I blush slightly in embarrassment.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I'm going to go get it while you distract the Survivors." I stare at him.

"WHAT? What makes you think this is going to work?"

"I'll just learn how to open the door and grab everything. You can just play around with the group, they like you."

It was true that the Survivors didn't shoot me, but according to the mean one…Nick…Nick, it was because they didn't want to waste their bullets on me.

"I really don't think this is going to work out."

"C'mon, it'll be fine."

"But-"

"Drop it. I'm going to learn how to open a damn door and I'm going to get us some box food for once!"

The sun is about to set and the sky is awash with golden oranges and bright pinks. I take a small break from trying to teach the simple act of opening a door to Jack and let myself relax. There's a cool wind and it brushes across my face. It feels nice and it doesn't sting my throat when I breathe deeply. In fact, coughing in general has gone down for a while. I hope it stays this way.

I go back to greet a fuming Jack, the door and its stupid knob scratched up badly. I ask him again if he wants to stop, if we should switch places. He doesn't talk to me.

"I need to get some air."

He stomps out of the house and few seconds later, I see him leaping off into the growing darkness. I hope he gets better.

Jack hasn't been able to grasp the idea, no pun intended, for such a long time. But I don't know why—it wasn't that hard for me. Maybe I'm just special, I haven't really seen any of the others do it either. Well if it comes down to it, since I'm the only one who can do it, I'm the only one who can teach Jack!

Grinning the best I can, I walk out after my companion. I can smell him through the evening air, his jacket and morning breath mixed starkly against the crumbling rubble and crisp, dried grass.

"Jack," I call. "Let me help you. It's not like I want to make you mad, but I can help. I know I can!"

He doesn't respond.

"Jack! Please answer me!"

"Go away. I'm useless."

I stop. Useless? Him?

"What are you talking about?" I shout, not caring if my coughing alerts the Survivors. "Just how are you useless?"

"Sure I can hunt and shit, but this is supposed to be easy! I know it is! But I can't do it. I can see myself opening that goddamn door, but my body doesn't listen, it just bumps and slashes it. Fuck!"

Jack screeches out and bounds up onto me, my back falls into a small area of grass. I cough softly from the cushioned impact and stare up to his glinting eyes.

"Jack, you're not useless. You're amazing."

"Just what makes you think that?"

His grip tightens around my shirt. I can hear him gnash his fangs and I hurt from watching him now.

"Because you protect me," I say, gulping down my fear. "You think about me and make sure that I don't get into any trouble. Sometimes, you give me some of your food, too!"

Jack's grip loosens and I use that chance to sit up.

"I know you're not useless. Please."

He doesn't look me in the eye now. Instead he sits on his haunches while a small growl escapes him. As for me, I'm torn. Should I keep talking to him? Should I stop? These questions buzz around in my head like stupid flies until I notice Jack lifting his head.

"We still need to get some food," Jack starts. "Do you…wanna help?"

My eye beams with unbridled joy and I clasp my hands in his.

"Of course I will!" I exclaim. "Of course I'll help you."

"See? What I tell you, Nick?"

"One more word, Ellis. One. More. Word."

I admit that this is far more dangerous than anything we've ever done before. The plan to separate the Survivors from the Safe House was going fine so far. I just hope that they stay away long enough for me to get some food. I won't let Jack down.

After opening the red door, I carefully close it so the metal doesn't screech out. The house is awfully dark, but some lanterns keep me from bumping into walls and counters. The wooden floors squeak under my clumsy, weighted walk and I make my way to the back of the room.

Inside I find these strange circle metals. I can hear water inside, so maybe there's food. I take as much as I can carry without dropping them all and turn my head searching for more treasures.

"Whoa," I say, intrigued. "What's this?"

I stumble upon a stack of black sticks. The same ones mighty Ellis and his group uses. They make clicking sounds and light comes out. Smiling, I reach out to grab one.

How do they make it click?

Confused, I sit down and play with it—turning it on its side, this way and that. I cough with a roll of irritation when the black stick refuses to obey me…like so many other shiny things. Stupid shiny things.

Flashlights. Bright and heavy, hold it in your hand.

A flashlight? This is new; I see that it isn't as shiny as the doorknob, so perhaps it's nicer. It certainly doesn't bite my tongue. Maybe if I am kind to it, it will listen to me.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you Flashlight," I say, hoping to coax out its light.

My finger glances over a small bump on the side. Investigate immediately! Just as I'm about to reach a breakthrough, a loud banging reaches my ears.

"Hey, open up! I lost the Survivors when I stole that fucker's white suit, but now they're gaining on me!"

I rush out to let him in. The Survivors with their working flashlights continue on, thinking that the Hunter hadn't escaped into their Safe House. I check to see if he's okay, which he is.

While he's talking to me about the food, I fiddle with the strange nub on the side and suddenly, bright light floods my vision!

At first, we both freeze from the intensity of the searing gaze, but then my eye closes and Jack screams a fit.

"My EYES! FUCKER, they BURN LIKE SHIT!"

He claws for his hoodie to keep his sensitive eyes safe and I fumble with the switch. My eye hurts a little, almost like the flashlight was eating my eye! I don't want that to happen! I must have angered the flashlight.

"Hey, Jack. Are you okay?" He keeps rubbing his eyes, but nods his head.

"Okay, let's get out of-"

"You guys all heard that Hunter screech, am I right?"

"Yeah, it's definitely in there."

"What should we do?"

"Shoot it, duh."

Oh, no. We alerted the Survivors. What do we do? What do we do?

"Shit, what should we do? We can't just leave the food here."

Use the flashlight as a distraction. Quick, before the Survivors get in.

"Jack, I'll use the flashlight on them. I need you to carry the food I found and get out through the back."

"There isn't a back…there's a second floor. Maybe I can use a window or something."

I'm glad that he doesn't start fighting now. He knows just as well as I do what will happen if we don't do this right. He grabs the food and I take the cursed flashlight. Something nips me at the back of my mind.

Ghost stories.

Oh, I guess I can do that.

"I'll go in first, y'all. Watch my back." It's the leader Ellis. Of course, he'd go in first.

The rest follow through, but I hide in the dark. Only the glint in my eye giving me away. But before they can shoot, I click the vile flashlight on and my face shines out, thick shadows line my head.

"Oh Lord have mercy!"

"Shit, a ghost zombie-"

"What the fuck? That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Oh damn, looks just like Keith after this one time…!"

With their guards down, I race off after Jack the flashlight turned off in my hands. My heart is beating too fast for me to count as my legs rush me up the stairs two and three at a time. My coughing becomes louder and louder until I finally burst through the bedroom window and into the cold night air.

Jack meets me outside, he heaves out a sigh of relief. We rush off together, his arms still holding the food. I hear the others give chase after me, but they sound out of sorts. I don't think they're too happy. The loud shooting noises from their weapons fill the night, but stops soon after. We escape.

When we get back to our house, Jack has already set out the blankets and I carefully rest the flashlight on its side. After that, I open the…cans…cans, and this watery fruit is inside. It smells sweeter than anything I've ever seen before, and I quickly swallow the slick juices. I hum in contentment and I share some with Jack.

He growls with approval. This is way better than some rabbit. After our short meal, we go to sleep. There's a long day ahead of us.