Left 4 Dead Fan Fiction
The Forgotten Survivors
by TheDark12
Chapter Three - Out In The Open
Private Charlie Tucker surveyed the situation once more. Infected closing in from both sides, out of view of both the girl inside the library and his partner on the rooftop. Charlie waved to Victoria and made a hand signal. But it was no good. Charlie saw Victoria lean forward on the rooftop, obviously straining to get a better look at his signal. It was no use, it was too dark and even if it was brighter, he was too far away for his hand signal - top two fingers on each hand pointing towards each other - to be seen.
Charlie had to act, he started running back toward the building; the man dressed in black followed. Charlie ran hard and fast, he had to get close enough to signal his partner before it was too late. Charlie noticed that the man in black kept up quite easily, despite the years of hard physical conditioning that Charlie had committed to, the other man kept pace without a hitch. As they ran, he could hear the snick, snick, snick sound of the man reloading his shotgun.
As they drew nearer to the library it became obvious that the infected had the lead. Charlie and his new friend were not going to make it back to the library in time; the infected would get there first. Charlie knew that it risked drawing attention, but he no longer had any choice. He had to save the girl and his fellow Marine. Charlie began to yell.
"Close the door! The infected are closing in!"
Though he yelled for all that he was worth, he was still too far away, they couldn't hear him clearly. Charlie yelled again and began point."Close the door!" The girl in the library doorway took a step out, to see what he was pointing at. She looked to her left and saw, less than ten feet away, an infected woman running straight at her!
The girl leapt backward and slammed the door closed behind her, the infected woman slammed into the door forcefully, but to no avail. Despite the wood-like appearance of the red painted door, it was solid steel. The infected woman growled and scratched at the door angrily and in a few moments other infected closed in and joined her.
Charlie slowed to a jog. He was panting hard, even after three years being in the Marines, he had physical limits. The man he was with appeared not to though. Though he slowed to Charlie's pace too. Charlie noticed that the man wasn't breathing heavily at all. In fact it seemed that he had not been drained by the run. Charlie slowed to a stop, then bent over to catch his breath. The black figure stopped with him, and drew up beside him.
From his hunched position Charlie saw that the mysterious friend was wearing a long black trench coat and a pair of black combat boots that were much like his own. Though his boots were military issue, these appeared much more stylish and of a higher quality.
Out of the corner of his eye Charlie saw something fly through the air over them. He whipped around in the direction of the shadow he had seen and pointed his submachine gun at the sky, but there was nothing there. A bird. It must've been a bird. You're getting jumpy Charlie, get a hold of yourself.
Charlie's breath slowly returned. He cast final suspicious look at the sky, then turned back toward the library. The horde of infected now lined the concrete walled library, scratching and kicking and slamming their fists in frustration. Suddenly, one of them lost interest and turned its attention to them. Charlie and this strange man, standing in the distance, on their own, out in the open.
Charlie's blood ran cold. They'd been spotted. He looked around for a means of escape and found it sitting in the middle of the library car park, seventy feet away. An empty Humvee. The only problem was, the car park was seventy feet away from the infected horde too! Charlie looked at the infected that was looking at him, then back at the Humvee. It was at that moment that he saw the most chilling thing yet. The infected looked at the Humvee too!
Dear god! It's planning ahead! These were not like the zombies from the cheesy low budget films he used to watch. These were people. Infected people. With a measure of intelligence still intact.
Charlie didn't waste a second, he sprinted for the Humvee as fast as his legs could carry him. The infected did too. But there was one minor difference. As Charlie ran, his legs burned in protest under the strain, his legs felt like they would give way and leave him in a collapsed heap. When the infected ran it looked like it had no limits; in its mind it probably didn't, Charlie realized.
Seconds after the first zombie took off running, dozens followed, losing interest in the impenetrable cement walls of the library. Charlie ran as fast as his legs could physically carry him, pumping his arms and gritting his teeth in sheer determination. Space between him and the Humvee dwindled fast.
Fifty feet, forty, thirty, twenty, ten, eight, five. At four feet the trench coated man jumped from the ground behind Charlie, up onto the roof of the Humvee in one giant leap in a single swift action. He landed with cat-like grace and pumped his shotgun. Charlie slammed into the passenger side door of the Humvee - hard. His impact rocked the entire armored vehicle from side to side.
Blam. A shot rung out from the trench coated man's shotgun - its owner taking aim from the roof of the Humvee - and blasted the infected man's head clean off!
Charlie pulled on the handle, but the door was locked! He could see through the window that the drivers side door was unlocked. He pivoted to make for the driver's side door, but it was too late. At that very moment, the wave of infected hit, leaping onto the vehicle and grabbing, kicking, scratching, hitting, biting, at Charlie and his heroic, black clad, shotgun-toting friend.
