Left 4 Dead Fan Fiction
A Prelude to Left 4 Dead
by Element118
"...countries like France, England, and Russia have closed their borders in hopes of quarantining this newly discovered virus. A representative of the Russian government explains that they simply cannot risk taking in any more who might be infected with the virus, recently named Aggressive Encephalitis, and that they have reason to believe the virus was brought into Russia from outside tourists, maybe from the U.S. ..."
Bill shook his head and looked away from the bar's television and the news reporter that was on it.
"Of course it was us," he said aloud. "It's always America's fault." The burly man behind the bar chuckled, turning away from the T.V. as well.
"Well, you gotta admit, Bill," the bar tender said grinning. "We make a good scapegoat." He chuckled again, this time joined by his old customer.
"I'll drink to that, how's about another, Francis?" Bill said, sliding his mug closer to the bartender. The old vet had been coming to this bar every night for the past two months and had become good friends with the bartender, Francis.
"You know," the burly man began. "If I hadn't enjoyed your company so much these last few months, I'd be pulling your damn tab!" He grabbed the mug and began filling it with beer. Bill chuckled again, and looked around at the empty bar.
"Well, I'm surprised you don't anyway. This place has been dead for that long, and you're definitely not making money on me."
Francis just grunted. It was true enough; the bar, usually the most crowded within five blocks, had been unusually empty ever since the new strain of rabies had been announced just two months ago. And the city was no different. Francis rode his motorcycle to work every evening, and each day the streets seemed to be less and less busy. Many shops and restaurants had closed up. The only place that seemed to be staying at the same level of activity, in fact growing, was the hospital. Every hospital in the city was packed, with waiting rooms full of sick and healthy people alike. Those who had the virus were held in the patient rooms, and those who thought they had it, but didn't, simply refused to leave until they were absolutely sure they didn't have it. And even then, they'd be back within days to have another check up.
Francis found it all a bit ridiculous. Having never been sick in his entire life, the man felt that more than three fourths of those complaining they had the virus were hypochondriacs. The bulky bartender handed the mug back to Bill and began wiping down the counter with a dirty rag. Both men fell silent as they listened again to the reporter on the television.
"So, what do you make of all this virus stuff, eh?" Francis asked after a few minutes.
"I've told you already," Bill said, taking a quick sip of his beer. "Some other damn countries using some sort of biological weapons on us." Francis rolled his eyes.
"Ah, yes, that's right," he chortled. "Them damn vietcongs, right?" Bill just glared at him. The burlier man just shrugged.
"Well, you wanna know what I think? I think people just don't know how to take their damned vitamins."
"Right, Francis, that's the answer to this whole thing: 'Take more vitamins'."
The two men laughed. Just then the back door opened and the bar's owner came through, coughing violently.
"Still not feeling good, Jim?" Francis asked, going back to wiping down the counter.
"Yea," Jim said as soon as he had his coughing under control. "Feel like shit. I think I'm gunna go home for the rest of the night."
"That's fine, I'll close up," replied Francis. Jim threw him a pair of keys, which he caught and dropped into a pocket. As Jim passed the counter, he glanced up at the T.V. which still had the news caster on it.
"Two months and still no cure," he said. "It's as if the governments of the world are sitting on their hands."
"We were just talking about it," Bill chimed in. "I'm betting it's some government that let the thing lose." Jim raised an eyebrow to that.
"Biological warfare, eh?" he said, putting his coat on. "Never thought I'd see the day." He coughed again, more violently this time.
"Let's just hope you don't got it," Francis said. "Maybe you should stop by the hospital on your way home, cut in front of all those hypos down there."
The owner shook his head. "I'm fine, it's just a chest cold."
Francis just shrugged, seeing no point in pressing the man.
"Well, don't go dying on us there, Jim," Bill cut in, lifting his mug. "I don't wanna have to find a new place to spend my weeknights."
"Right, I'm betting that's exactly what you're hoping with that tab you've run up," Jim replied light heartedly. All three men laughed. They said their goodbyes, and Jim walked out the front door. Just then, a warning tone sounded from the television, and both men turned to see what was going on.
A man stood in front of a green screen which had video clips of what seemed to be rioting in the background.
"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news story. It appears that all across the nation, riots have broken out in sparse concentrations. Most are found within hospitals, which is not a surprise with how backed up they have become in the last month, and...." The man paused, putting his finger to his ear. He then faced the camera with a confused look.
"I, uh, just was informed that several of the riots have become violent. Casualties are being reported, mostly of people being beaten to death. Also, just in, it appears that many of the rioters are persons who have been diagnosed with Aggressive Encephalitis. Whether these riots have been started because of..." Again, the man paused, and again his finger found its way up to his ear. Francis and Bill exchanged glances, both unsure of what to make of it all.
"Ahem, well, there's been a nation wide alert. All civilians are instructed to remain indoors. The national guard has been called upon to bring down the riots. I have been instructed to get off the air so that the president may address the nation. Please stay tun...." Suddenly, the picture disappeared and all that the T.V. displayed was a fuzzy screen.
Before Francis or Bill could ask any questions, a loud crash came from the outside of the bar.
"What was that?" Bill asked, standing from his stool
"A car accident maybe," his burly friend offered. Both looked at each other, sharing the same bad feeling in their stomach's.
And that's when they heard the screaming....
