2 months after the infection, the U.S. military finally managed to contain the infection and retake the city of Fairfield.
It was a horrid chapter in American history. Almost all of the inhabitants in the city had been infected or killed. It is also note-worthy to say that the U.S. army encountered little to no resistance from the hostile inhabitants once they finally decided to enter the city. That’s because a small group of people, bonded together by their willingness to live in face of this terrible calamity, wiped out a majority of the infected.
Unfortunately, only a handful of those survivors actually made it home. Some never left the town, fighting for their fellow survivors to their dying breath. Others, due to numerous injuries, simply collapsed and never recuperated.
As the U.S. government sets itself to establish a quarantine and resolve this disaster, the nation’s attention turns to the four survivors who made it back alive. Their stories have spawned numerous book deals and fan websites, propelling the four to national celebrity status.
Here are the survivors’ lives after Left 4 Dead.
* * *
A man in a cheap business suit looked at himself in a handheld mirror as he made his way to the woods where the U.S. military failed to fight back the infected. He had sneaked past the National Guard troops securing the area by going under the demolished bridge. If he pulled this off, he could earn a big promotion from his boss. After all, this guy was a celebrity.
He jerked at his tie once more and stood in front of the shiny new white trailer. Opening his briefcase, the man pulled out the pamphlets advertising his company’s life insurance policies. Exhaling deeply and practicing his rehearsed lines in his head, the man, trying to find a doorbell but finding none, knocked on the door.
He thought he saw a flicker. An eye briefly flashed past the small window adjacent to the door.
Next thing he knew, the man was lying on his back, looking fearfully at the bearded man pointing a shotgun directly between his eyes. The man could feel the ash dripping from the cigarette wedged between the geezer’s lips. The old man snarled:
“Get off my property.”
The harried man, with a boot to his behind, ran off, papers streaming out from his leather briefcase. He now knew why his fellow coworkers took a sick leave after those visits to the crazy man. Perhaps his reclusive nature gave him a notorious reputation, thought the man as he ran down the road.
Bill, giving the man’s back an intimidating stare, crept back into this trailer. He just got this trailer from an anonymous fan who kept sending him fan mail. He appreciated the fan’s generosity, but after the fan started hanging around his trailer, he eventually did what he did to the annoying salesperson to the hapless stalker.
Another knock. Bill, this time, didn’t even bother to take his shotgun. He knew who it was.
Opening the door, he saw his fellow survivors. A smartly-dressed neat African American man. A girl in a red jacket. And finally, his favorite prick of all time…
“Hey grampa Bill,” growled Francis as he shoved past Bill and headed straight for the minibar.
Bill looked at the other two survivors and thought they were holding hands. He’d had a feeling that something was up, as he smiled gently to himself.
Zoey gave Bill a warm hug. Louis patted Bill on the back as if he were his oldest friend. The three quickly sat down at the minibar and started talking of old things. While Francis chugged a bottle of beer, they recounted their lives. Zoey talked of her moving to another university. Surprisingly, a lot of schools were willing to accept her. She could finally choose where she wanted to go, instead of having to find a school which was willing to accept a student with abysmal grades.
Bill talked of those annoying salespeople and the attention he received. Before, he had been a recluse. Now, he was probably the biggest celebrity out of the other three. He earned a notorious reputation for being tough; Louis was glorified as a common man who fought back against impossible odds; Zoey was seen as the female heroine who stood up for women’s toughness. Francis was just Francis.
Louis talked of his promotion to CEO. He was now in charge of all those electronic stores and could finally move up to the upper-class level.
Jokingly, Louis said, “Zoey, Bill, I’m giving you both jobs.”
Turning to Francis, Louis said, “Francis! I’ma teach yo ass how to read!”
Francis, completely left out of the discussion, merely said, “Huh?” as the other survivors chortled at Louis’s remarks. They even gave Francis a book to see if he could really read (he could pass).
And so it went. All of them were reunited- at least for know.
* * *
Two years later
Francis wiped the counter and checked the alarm system. He made his last rounds around the store and turned off all the lights.
It was late at night. Francis left the electronics store (which he now owns) and hopped onto his motorcycle. He had to head to Adult School for his reading and writing class, at Louis’s request. Before he headed straight there, though, he stopped at the local bar for a drink. When he pulled up to the bar, though, he could see many people jammed pack around the entrance. Obviously, they were looking for him.
Not desiring attention (at least not now), Francis took the back door entrance. He rapped on the door three times, then once. It was a code.
Sure enough, the bartender, who knew Francis as a regular and understood his current predicament, came out with two bottles of beer.
Francis bumped the bartender. “Hey Jeremy.”
“What’s up, Francis?”
The two friends sat down and talked of things. Jeremy used to own a bar back at Fairfield. He moved because of declining business- a good thing, since he narrowly just missed the infection. Now he was making wads of cash, since somebody there saw Francis as a customer. Now it was the hottest bar in town.
Jeremy chuckled. “You know, I really owe ya. I’m making so much money everyday. These people come in, asking, ‘Where’s Francis?’”
Francis replied, “Any people I should get to know?”
Jeremy raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe the girls…”
The two finished their drinks. Francis, getting up to leave, was suddenly stopped by Jeremy.
“Wait…”
Jeremy’s normally comical expression was replaced with a look of sorrow and pity. He handed Francis a crumpled newspaper.
“Is this practice so I can ace my reading exam at the Adult School?”
Jeremy shook his head and went back into his bar. Francis looked down at the newspaper. He scanned the page and finally knew why Jeremy’s expression had been so grim. The expression had been one that seemed to convey the sadness that he had to bring to Francis.
Francis got back on his bike, eyes never leaving the paper. Breathing deeply, he laid back, taking in all this news. Finally, he smiled to himself and started the bike. He headed off for the Adult School- he was almost late anyways.
As the wind whipped Francis’s eyes, he thought of Bill. The old man had a good life, thought Francis. He had friends. Francis’s smile was replaced with a scowl as he growled to the sky:
“Bill, you son of a bitch. Don’t wet your diapers in heaven.”
Francis tossed the newspaper away, as it drifted in the wind. Amazingly, it blew up into the sky, as if it were dancing or possessed by some unearthly spirit. It finally laid to rest on the dusty side of the road. As if covering up the bad news, the wind blew the pages over the Obituary sections, over the section on William “Bill” Overbeck.
* * *
Nighttime. A couple strolled down the street. They passed the abandoned diner, the gas station, the apartments. Memories, not all of them good, but they had to be confronted.
It was eerie. The moonlight illuminated the city. However, it was no longer frightening. The shadows didn’t hide any hidden dangers, nor did it hid any infected. Instead, the darkness gave the setting a mysterious feel.
The two people made their way up to the top of the apartments. Here, they found the table, the SOS sign painted on the roof. They overlooked the city, one that used to be filled with mindless killing drones. Nothing scared them, though. There was another feeling in the air that smothered any feelings of fearfulness.
Zoey turned to Louis, smiling. “This is where we met.”
The two laid back, looking at the stars. They counted the constellations and found the Big Dipper. The two recounted adventures, talked of narrow escapes, and even humorously recounted the incident with Francis “accidentally” shooting Bill. However, the small talk soon turned to Bill.
Zoey looked at Louis. “Bill’s in a better place.”
Louis looked up at the stars, nodding. He thought he saw Bill’s old wrinkly features formed by the heavenly bodies above. It was a fitting end to a war veteran. He had fought his last battle.
However, Louis was preoccupied with something else. He thought of how he should approach this. Even in all his years as a trained man, capable of handling crises (he was a manager, after all), he didn’t know how he was going to approach this. It was going to be tough, yet this challenge was probably the most important one.
Louis nervously reached into his pocket and fingered a velvet-covered box with a ring in it.
