A/N: Hello, everyone! Short chapter here, but I promise the plot going on will make it worth it.
I don't own L4D or L4D2, do not sue me, etc. Happy reading!
There wasn't much in the files after the maps; Just quarantine and evacuation protocol. There were a few disturbing-looking pictures of infected cities; Zombies running around the streets, chaos reigning. I reflected at (Despite the MRE's) how bloody comfortable I was riding out the apocalypse. Even the pain form bite on my arm had reduced to a dull throb (Probably due to the pain meds) and there weren't any green, tainted-looking veins creeping up from it, towards my heart or whatever. (Call me melodramatic, but cynicism all the time is a very tiring diet.) I went to bed that night with the general confidence that I would not, in fact, become a zombie.
Probably.
It's not like I'd have to deal with one, anyways. One zombie falling from the sky is one zombie too much for me.
Hot. Feel hot.
Hot everywhere. Not following trail any more. Too far. Too much hurt. Stop the pain black things flying around. Growl at the black things, but they just keep flying around. Everything going dark now.
Can't see. Keep head low. Stumble. Can't walk. Just feel hot. Mouth stings. Eyes hurt. Feel weak.
Head is full of noise.
/Where am I/
Want to lie down, but I keep crawling. Don't know why.
Run into thing now. Not tree. Sharp. Prickly.
Scratches me. Smell blood /my blood/. Won't let go.
Try to pull away. Veryvery tired. Head now very noisy. Prickly-thing keeps biting me, through my covering sweater and on face. Pull away again, but it won't let me go. Trapped tighter.
Try to growl, but feel too tired.
/Sick/
Lie still.
I woke up the next morning to the sun shining, the birds singing, and a zombie in the barbed wire fence.
Crap.
I was into my cargo pants, boots and jacket within seconds, and my Glock was locked and loaded, as I cautiously observed the body from the safety of the threshold. It was unmoving, but I didn't want to take any chances.
Idiot. I thought, as I slowly approached it, cautious in my step, watching the zombie the entire short walk from the Cabin to the fence. You didn't double-tap it.
It surprised me that a zombie survived something like that, but then again, I had been pretty hasty in my retreat. Too hasty, in fact. Anyone with some common sense would have shot it in the head, for good measure, but I (In all my ill-intentioned panic) had neglected to do so. Might as well finish the job now, I though grimly.
It looked like it was finished, anyways. The body seemed to, well, a body, dead as a…
Ok, it groaned just now. Yep, it was breathing. Tangled deep in the wire, I could actually get a good look at the thing that tried to kill me not 24 hours before.
Its head was down, and the wire cut deeply into the flesh and fabric of the grimy hoodie it was wearing, which also served to cover its face. For some reason, the sleeves were taped down with duct tape, as were the pant legs. Probably remnants of its past life. I realized.
Despite the fact it had tried to eat me earlier, I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry. Here was some hapless sod, going about his normal life, only to get turned into a mindless animal by a particle of protein and RNA less than .001% the size of a bacterium.
And now here he is, trapped in a goddamn barbed wire fence in the middle of nowhere.
Poor bugger. I thought.
"Well, the most I can do for you is put you out of your misery." I said, flicking off the safety of my pistol and aiming for the head.
At the sound of my voice, the Infected moved, slightly, trying to lift its head. I stiffened, ready to shoot if there were any sudden movements.
Then there was another sound.
"Plz'." It said.
I inhaled, sharply. "What did you say?" I asked, shocked. My hands were shaking again; Obviously, I was becoming delusional due to stress, cabin-fever, and possibly a zombie virus infecting me.
"Plz." Said the zombie again, actually lifting its head enough to look up at me. Its voice was rough, and forced, like it took all of its energy just to speak.
"Help me."
Something coming. Can't hear much, because head is making pounding sounds and feelings…
Prey?
No. Not prey. Can't move. Can't pounce. Can't hunt.
Stay still. Maybe will go away. Smell is closer now. Smells… scared. And also…
/Sad/
Makes sound. Don't know what. Sound of smoke-thing now. Heard before. Means pain. Means..
/Death/
Head is saying something now. Words. Don't know words. Mean something.
/Help me/.
Open mouth. Not growl, or scream. Say words. Maybe will do something. Please
"Plz."
Smell is…confused now. Say words again. Big words. Means...
/Safety/
Means so much…
"Help me."
A/N: Oooo, looks like things have taken a turn, haven't they? Like I said, sorry for the short chapter, though the next one will be much meatier to make up for it. It'll include some character descriptions in it, too, so you have a better idea of what our protagonist looks like.
Thank you to my wonderful reviewers for their encouragement; You make me feel all nice and fuzzy inside :) Keep leaving them, I do love a good critique. If you like this story, recommend it!
Until next time.
-Author