Left 4 Dead Fan Fiction
A Prelude to Left 4 Dead
by Element118
They weren't going to make it. Bill was too old and was fast losing his speed. Francis knew that if they didn't find a way to lose the mob of infected, they weren't going to make it. The burly man wasn't young himself.
Come on, think of something...
The mob was quickly gaining on them, and Francis knew they had to get off of the streets. The next building door they came to, he veered into it hoping to God that Bill hadn't lagged too far behind and would follow him in. He didn't shut the front door behind him, both because he didn't want to lock Bill out and because he knew it wouldn't help. There were stairs before him and a hallway on his right. He took the stairs, figuring they might slow his pursuers down. As soon as he reached the top of the first flight, he turned to see if Bill had made it.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Bill cried, for he was right behind Francis and apparently had caught up after entering the building. "Go, go!"
They both made their way up the flights of stairs, and they soon found that their pursuers were close behind when they heard the stampede of footsteps only a couple flights below. Neither man dared to look over the rail and see just how close they were cutting it. It was soon apparent that they would tire and slow long before the infected would.
"Next floor find a door we can get through!" Bill cried from behind him, and Francis grunted in response. After launching himself past the last couple of steps, he turned right down a hallway and tried the first door he came upon.
Damn! Locked...
Bill rushed past him and tried a door further down the hall. The growls and screams of the infected sent a chill down Francis's spine. The man couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. What was wrong with these people? He didn't know what they wanted, but he damn well knew that he didn't want to find out.
"Here, this one's open!"
Bill had found a door that wasn't locked, and just in time, for Francis could hear the mob coming up their flight of stairs. The two men rushed into the door, and it was only then that Francis realized they had entered an apartment building. The apartment they entered was clean and well furnished, but that was all the two had time to register about the place. Bill kept his wits about him enough to slam the door shut behind them and slam the dead bolt into place. He locked the door handle as well. Nearly split seconds after the door was closed and locked, the mob outside began slamming on it. Francis put his hands on his knees as he bent over to catch his breath, which came in labored gasps. Bill slowly backed away from the door, wide-eyed.
"What the fuck, Francis?!" he said, still staring at the door which seemed to bounced an inch out of its frame with every slam from the outside.
"I don—" the burly man replied, but his breathing was too desperate to allow him to finish his sentence.
"Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on?" the older man continued. He looked around the apartment for an alternate exit. Francis's lungs were burning, but he stood and joined in the search. There were two doors leading out of the main room they were in, which appeared to be both the living room and the kitchen. He figured one of those doors led to a bedroom, and the other probably the bathroom or office of some sort. Bill had moved to the window, apparently to see if there was a fire escape. The door Francis opened led to the bedroom, which seemed to be untouched. The bed was made and there was no signs of an occupant. Immediately, the man saw the sliding glass doors opposite him that led to a balcony.
"Bill, we got a balcony in here!" Francis yelled back into the main room. Bill came into the room just as Francis reached the sliding glass doors. He opened one side and stepped out onto a narrow balcony, and as he turned to his left, he realized that this apartments balcony was connected with the balcony of the apartment adjacent to it. Turning back into the bedroom, the man saw Bill rummaging through the drawers of a desk next to the bed.
"What are you looking for?" Francis asked impatiently.
"Anything that can help us."
"What are you talking about, we gotta get out of here!"
Bill ignored him and continued searching. Francis walked back to the door leading into the main room of the apartment to check on the front door, which was still being slammed again and again. He nearly jumped when Bill let out a cry behind him, and half expected to be attacked by some maniac who had just popped out from the closet or something when he turned to see what was the matter. But Bill's cry was of excitement, for he had found Sub-Compact Tomcat Beretta pistol in a drawer of the desk. The burly man walked over to his companion for a closer look, and Bill checked to see if it was loaded.
It was.
"That's great, man. But there's gotta be twenty to twenty-five of ‘em out there," Francis said as he ran his hand through his unkempt, black hair.
"I know, and there's only seven bullets in this thing," Bill replied. "We're taking the balcony. Let's get outta here."
Bill tucked the pistol into one of the pockets on his vest and went for the balcony, Francis following. The two men swung over the narrow set of bars that separated the two adjacent balconies. They continued to go from balcony to balcony until they reached the corner of the building.
The sliding glass doors for this balcony had its blinds closed, so they couldn't see inside the apartment. Francis looked down to the streets below them. Except for a few abandoned cars, the streets were empty. It was an eerie site, for it was the middle of the day and usually the streets were busy in this part of the city.
What is going on...
He counted the balconies below them and determined they were on the sixth floor. Looking up, he noticed about five or so more floors above them. If they made it to the roof, they might get a better view of what was going on in the city.
"Bill, let's get to the roof," he said. Bill looked up and nodded.
"We're not going to be able to just climb up," he replied. "We'll need to go back through the building."
Francis winced, but he knew his friend was right. The balcony above them was too high to reach, even if they stood on the railings that bordered their own balcony. And there was no ladder in sight. With a deep breath, Francis nodded to Bill and they entered the apartment.
This apartment was much different than the other one they had been in. They again were in a bedroom, but this time the door leading out was on the other side of the room. And whoever had lived here wasn't as clean as the other person. There were dirty clothes all over the floor and the bed was a mess of sheets and pillows. There was half eaten food on the night stand next to the bed, and the room smelled of rotten cheese.
And to both mens' horror, there was a blood trail which originated at the foot of the bed and led underneath the closed door which would open to the main living room. Francis's heart began to race again as he looked to Bill, who was staring at the door. The two strained to hear anything on the other side, but there was nothing. Bill let out a deep breath, and began to approach the door, gun drawn. Francis looked around for something to protect himself with, and eventually found a hammer laying in the closet. By the time the large man made it to the door, Bill was already opening it slowly.
