A/N: The adventure continues with Chapter 13!

I don't own Left 4 Dead. Don't sue me.

I woke up seeing light.

I squinted; These weren't the lights of the heavenly variety, or even the fire-and-brimstone type.

They were florescent.

The kind found in hospitals.

Once my eyes got used to the non-celestial brightness, I took in the rest of my surroundings. There was a smell of disinfectant, and the crinkly chemical scent of sterility and floorcleaner.

My neck stung; That was the last thing I remembered. It still hurt now.

There was a port sticking out of my right arm.

I shifted my weight, the paper hospital gown (Eh?) I was wearing crackling as I moved my very numb-feeling body.

"Good to see you're conscious, Ms. Walker."

I turned to the source of the voice, a California drawl that I thought I might've heard before.

There was a man sitting there, to my left, hands clasped, with the incorrigible smug calmness of someone who knew more than you, and somehow you owed him a favor for this.

He looked vaguely familiar.

"Please tell me." I croaked, my tongue feeling like sandpaper, and my throat dry, "That this is a mental hospital, and the entire zombie apocalypse was a series of delusions I dreamed up while lying here, that can be easily controlled with therapy and medication."

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Walker."

"Damn. Where the hell am I, then?"

He sat back, gesturing to the white room.

"This, Miss Walker, is a CEDA-Sanctioned research hospital, located on an undisclosed island off the coast of Canada." He turned back to me. "The last outpost functioning east of the Mississippi River."

"Great. Who the hell are you, and how did I get here?"

"One at a time, Ms. Walker. Firstly, I am Lucas Gatling, main Administrator and Director of the CEDA…."

Ah. That'd explain the familiarity. I'd seen Dad yelling at him on TV several times. (Then again, Dad yelled at all government officials, without discrimination.)

"Fine, Director." I said. "Nice to meet you. Now can you please be so kind as to explain how exactly I ended up here? Last time I checked, I was in Northern Maine-not Canada."

"You have been brought here, Miss Walker—" Against my will. I thought to myself "—due to the CEDA's express interest in your well-being, and due to certain circumstances which may benefit the public welfare."

OK, wait, what?!

"Cut the crap, Gatling." I snarled, my patience running short. "Judging from what I've heard and read, you aren't exactly the most benevolent of organizations. I'm here for a reason, and it isn't because of the loving kindness of your heart."

Gatling's expression remained stony, though his tone was cold. "Very well, Miss Walker. To put it bluntly, you're immune to the Green Flu, and of imperative interest to us."

Immune? "I'm a carrier." I said, coldly. "There are probably other ones out there, from what I can tell. There's no reason for you to hold me here."

Gatling, however, shook his head. "I didn't say carrier, Miss Walker, I said immune. Though you've been exposed to the virus—" he nodded at the nearly-healed bite wound on my arm –"You have no trace of the virus in your body. Essentially, your immune system has fought off the virus completely, eradicating it."

My thoughts stopped for a moment. Then they put the pieces together.

"I'm the only one, aren't I." I asked, in a way that wasn't a question.

Gatling nodded. "We've preformed multiple evacuations and tests, but it seems that the genetics required for an Immune individual are exceedingly rare. Chances are, of course, that there are others like you, but they have either perished from Infected attack, or have yet to be rescued." He paused, and added, "At least, until now."

Crap.

"So…" I asked, cautiously (Though I wasn't sure if it would help) "What does this mean for me?"

"As stated before." Said Gatling, steepling his fingers, "It is in the public's best interest to detain you for research purposes."

"So you're going to keep me here, then."

"For lack of a better expression, yes."

"Why?"

Gatling sighed, like he knew I wasn't going to like the answer. "Though dislike to admit it, Miss Walker, the CEDA is essentially desperate for solutions. Most of our operations have been taken over by the military; At this point, our only function is to attempt to find a vaccine, or, perhaps, a cure."

"And you haven't found one yet." I said. Maybe Dad was right about the government being useless. I thought.

Gatling shook his head again. "The virus…defies conventional methods. The standard weakened-pathogen method is ineffective, as the virus mutates on a near-daily basis. Though antibody-insertion is typically not the default line of action, it seems to be the only option with the resources at hand."

"So you're going to take my blood, inject it into some people, and see what happens." I said, flatly.

Gatling smirked. "Oh, but we already have, Miss Walker. Though the clinical trials haven't been fully completed, the initial results seem to be promising."

"So." I said, trying not to let my rising anger show. "You somehow kidnapped me to get here by god-knows-what-methods, took my blood, (which violates pretty much every medical law out there, buts it's a goddamn zombie apocalypse so WHO GIVES A SHIT) and there's not a damn thing I can do about it?"

"In summation."

"Fuck you."

I was on the verge of extricating myself from the complicated tangle of tubes, ports, and various other medical thingies currently attached to me, leaving the room, jumping into the ocean, and swimming all the way back to Maine, when Gatling said something that stopped me.

"As kind as your insult is, Miss Walker, it would also be in your best interest to stay here."

I was fuming, at this point. "My best interest? For you to harvest my blood without my consent, like the bunch of vampires? How long are you going to keep me here, Gatling, as your guinea pig? Poke me full of needles, keep me in a windowless room until I die, and clone me? And for what purpose?"
"Because we need you, Miss Walker." Gatling said, his once-placid tone now taking an urgent turn.

I stopped in my escape, if only for a moment.

Gatling recomposed himself. "Miss Walker, we have no intention of detaining you for any longer than we need to." He said (B.S. I thought, but I kept listening) "The only reason the Green Flu hasn't spread to the western portion of the United States is because the Infected cannot swim, and because of strict quarantine protocol. Even so, the threat lives every day; millions, if not billions, are either infected, or dead, or are left for dead because of limited evacuation resources. The infected are mutating daily, as is the virus, and it will be only a matter of time before it extends beyond our tenuous control." He gave me a steely look. "Our only hope lies with a vaccine, Miss Walker, so we can curb the spread at the very least. And our only hope for a vaccine." He said, glaring at me, "Is you."

"I have no choice in the matter, then."

"I'm afraid not, Miss Walker."

"And even if I did have a choice, I'd be the world's biggest asshole if I refused."

"You put it very eloquently, Miss Walker."

I snorted. At least he has a sense of humor.

"Besides." Said Gatling. "I'm sure you'd like to stay in order to monitor the condition of your companion."

"My compa...?" I started, and then the memories of the events past hit me like a ton of bricks.

Denver.

Oh, shit.

"Where is he?" I asked, urgently, bolting upright in the bed.

Oh God, I nearly killed him, I nearly shot him in the head….

"He's currently sedated in the quarantine ward of the facility."

"And he's…?" I started, trailing off, not wanting to ask. I probably shot him in the chest, and he's dying, or he's…

Gatling looked confused, but seemed to pick up the unasked question. "He's experiencing convulsions, muscle spasms, a dangerously high fever, a fair amount of blood loss from an injury to his side, and a broken leg, from what is believed to be a bear trap…"

He saw my expression. "But is otherwise alive."

The relief was like a wave; It flooded me through, and washed away all the other questions and worries floating around in my head, and replaced them with one thought:

He's alive, he's alive, I didn't kill him, what was I thinking… oh god, he's still alive.

A/N: Chapter 13's done for.

The game's up! I pulled a fast one on you with Chapter 11. Ha! (Ow, quit throwing things at me!) The story is nearing its end, but not as soon as I made it seem to be. (Hey, I said an Epilogue in the future. Not next.)

Please leave a review berating me for what a horrible person I am, and recommend it if you liked the story.

Remember, reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold, bye!

-Author