Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. If I did own the game, Zoey wouldn't be so polite ("You are welcome, sir." Seriously, you expect this from an 18/19-year-old?), Louis would have an animation whenever he would "sense" pain pills (thieving bastard always taking my peelz!), Bill would be able to kill Infected with his bare hands (you'd figure an ex-Green Beret would have more 'ass-kickery'), and Francis would actually like something other than vests (like the cheap exploits that Valve keeps fixing -.-).

Closing In

By: Confused Confusion

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

Inspired Music: "Lux Aeterna (Full Orchestra)" – Clint Mansell for the instrumental feeling and "Empty Walls" – Serj Tankian for the lyrical concept

Can you feel it? Closing in…all around you…

Zoey blew a loose stand of hair from her eyes as she crept down the weathered road, following a familiar white business shirt that stood out starkly in the night. Louis, the owner of said shirt, moved warily ahead of her, an Uzi clutched so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were turning white. Francis picked up the rear, the large intimidating biker keeping a sharp eye on the surrounding trees. Bill led the haggard group onward, his muddy, bloodstained boots emitting soft thumps every time they hit the ground.

"Are you staring at my ass, Francis?" the brunette demanded without glancing back.

"…No," Francis answered after a moment, falsified innocence dripping from his voice.

Zoey merely rolled her eyes in response, but let the matter drop. Instead, she allowed her mind to wander to the events that led up to their current situation.

It had been nearly a month since the Green Flu first struck in Pennsylvania, and over the course of October and November, all hell had broken loose everywhere across the country. They had been united in Fairfield, where it all started, and since then, they had been in crashing helicopters, blazing metropolises, zombie-infested cornfields, and more sewers than Zoey would care to count. Together, the four of them had faced down rampaging Tanks, unstoppable Witches, and an army of Specials; although she felt herself shiver at the idea of being covered in Boomer bile again. They had done what the highly trained military could not: survive. Through impossible odds, their ragtag group had trekked across half of the 'Keystone State' and now found themselves on the outskirts of Lake Erie.

Zoey had to admit, when they first found her holed up in her dorm room, she honestly didn't think she'd make it out of the business district alive, but lo and behold, here she was. The spunky survivor may have been a little worse for wear, as they had all been exposed to various injuries over the past month, but she was still alive, damn it. There was no way she was going to end up the cliché bimbo who always dies in horror movies. No, she was going to make it out of this, she was going to see her family again, and she was damn sure going to take a nice, long shower without having to worry about a horde of zombies breaking down the door and ripping her to shreds. Zoey admitted that it sounded a little vain, but she'd like to see anyone else endure the zombie apocalypse without succumbing to the daily needs of good hygiene.

After making it out of Allegheny, they had a small "mishap" involving a Tank and their APC on the suburbs of the city of Erie. The driver had been crushed under tons of crumpled steel, while the Tank met its end under a hail of bullets after chasing them for a good ten minutes. Erie, as they've become accustomed to seeing, was completely deserted with exception to the various Infected that littered the streets. Like always, they had read the assortment of graffiti left over from the previous denizens of the city in hopes of finding some sort of safe haven or escape. Many of the messages pointed toward Presque Isle as a means for evacuation, while others said to head north, that the infection hadn't spread up into northern New England.

Heading north sounded enticing, they had been running and hiding for weeks from the Infected. In their whimsical thoughts of a possibly safe future, Bill had pointed out the likelihood that even if New England hadn't been affected, with all the fleeing citizens flocking northward, the virus was bound to reach it sooner or later. Given the circumstances, Presque seemed like the lesser of two evils, and if it didn't pan out, then they would head north to see what they could find. The closer they came to the isle, the more positive the graffiti appeared to be, which lifted group-morale greatly.

So here they were, wandering up a deserted road that the last cluster of graffiti had suggested, inwardly praying to God that it would lead to rescue. They had been through Hell, or in Francis' words, "A place that even Hell would consider a Hell."

"How much further, Bill?" Francis called from the back, earning an annoyed sigh from the ex-Green Beret.

Bill twisted slightly at the waist to glance at the obnoxious biker, "How the hell should I know?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot you were senile."

Zoey allowed a grim smirk to reach her chapped lips. Francis was already resorting to sarcasm and insults, which meant that even the 'fearless' biker was having his own doubts about the situation. She had come to learn that it was his coping mechanism, to brush off the horrors they were experiencing and replace it with a platter full of cynicism. For Louis, he treated this as just another day at the shooting range, and Bill…well, Bill's tool to cope was rather obvious from the glazed look in his eyes. To the veteran, this was Vietnam all over again, only slightly different. As for Zoey, she simply pretended that she was in another cheesy, cliché horror movie. It was rather funny, really. In just the span of a few weeks, Zoey felt like she knew these three better than her friends that she had known since birth.

"Check it out, there's a building up ahead," Louis' voice brought the brunette from her thoughts.

Looking ahead to where the former businessman was pointing stood a small building near the edge of a low cliff.

Bill nodded curtly in approval, "Either way, it might have some supplies we could salvage."

"Fingers crossed for beer," Francis muttered, shifting his shotgun to the other hand tensely.

Bill snorted from the front of the pack, but didn't allow the words to reach his mouth.

Zoey mentally screamed as silence fell over the survivors. It was bad enough that they were trekking the zombie-infested countryside, but doing it in complete silence was unnerving her to no end. Louis coughed after a moment, the distinction of the noise causing the others to visibly tense, eyes alert. The former businessman grinned sheepishly before offering a quick apology. The brunette allowed a sigh of relief to escape her lungs, they had had way too many confrontations with Smokers in the past, and it appeared to be taking a toll on them all.

"So…what are you guys going to do after we get out of this mess?" the dark-skinned man lamely asked, looking for anything that would break the anxious silence that gripped them.

"Hitting up the nearest bar," Francis answered immediately, not a shred of doubt in his voice.

Zoey tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment, "I'll probably see if I can find anything on my family's whereabouts."

Bill paused up ahead, "Although I hate to say it, I'll probably be joining Francis at the bar."

The large biker let out a hearty laugh, "Damn right, we'll drink the place dry!"

The veteran snorted, "You can keep the cheap shit, but leave the finer stuff to me."

"Yeah, yeah, you and your old scotch."

"Dated, Francis, the word you're looking for is dated. There's a big difference."

"Whatever," Francis replied, tuning out the spry old man before he could get started on another of his 'fine whiskey' rants.

"What about you, Louis?" Zoey asked as she moved up beside him.

The bald survivor stroked his stubble as he thought about it, "I guess I'll check up on my family, although I doubt I'll find anything on them way up here. Afterwards, I…I guess I'll see if I can help out whoever's in charge or something."

Bill stopped abruptly, almost causing Francis to stumble into him. Slowing to a stop, Zoey found herself face-to-face with a large chain link fence blocking the road, the building in the distance was now a quaint lighthouse walking distance away. Had they really covered that much ground already? The brunette glanced up, noticing the barbwire that lined the top of the fence, faint traces of dried blood riddling the sharp edges. A set of wheels were attached to the bottom of this section of the fence, hinting at its mobility.

"Allow me," Francis offered sarcastically while stepping past Bill. Shouldering his firearm, the biker gripped the fence with his other hand and slowly eased it to the left. The survivors filed through the opening, Francis sliding the fence back in place behind him.

"Infected," Bill muttered while kneeling on his good knee, M16 at eye level.

The ex-Green Beret quickly picked off most of the small group of former humans that were wandering around the lighthouse. Zoey stepped up behind him, taking quick aim on a clueless Infected with her hunting rifle. A shot rang out, and the young woman watched through the lens as the zombie's head exploded in a shower of gore. The headless body dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks and she lowered her gun.

She had come a long way, Zoey thought grimly. A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have dared shoot at the Infected…she just saw too much human in them. It would have felt like she was murdering someone. Now, as she stared at the unmoving corpse of the Infected that she had just killed…she felt nothing. In retrospect, she had Francis to thank for helping her overcome the uncertainty. It was shortly after they had found her, and her lack of willingness in killing the Infected was beginning to get on Francis' nerves.

"I won't!" Zoey shouted defiantly, taking a firm stance in the middle of the safe house.

Francis sneered at her from the corner briefly before turning toward Bill, "I told you not to rescue her; chicks just can't handle this kind of shit!"

Bill glared at the large biker, "And leave her to die? Hell no."

The gruff man slammed his fist on the table, "If she keeps this 'I'm not going to shoot any zombies' bullshit up, she'll still end up dead!"

"You may be comfortable with killing people, but I'm not going to throw my humanity out the window and be on the same level as you!" Zoey hissed fiercely.

Louis watched from the back, wanting to stop the fighting, but didn't wish to incur the wrath of either warring parties. The former businessman saw Francis rise threateningly, and felt himself stand as well. He wasn't going to stop their verbal exchange, but he wasn't about to let the intimidating biker snap the girl like a twig. Louis met Francis halfway, a hand gripping the biker's tattooed arm tightly in an effort to stop him. He was rewarded with a hard shove that sent him stumbling into the wall.

"Stay out of it," Francis warned venomously before turning his attention to the brunette. The biker stomped past Zoey, grabbing her by the back of her jacket before she could protest.

"Francis…" Bill cautioned carefully as the larger man dragged the sole female of the group toward the door.

"Shut up, Bill; she needs to learn this at some point if she wants to survive."

Zoey yelled and kicked at her captor, but Francis didn't seem the least bit fazed by her struggles. With a small grunt of effort, he shoved Zoey against the door. An Infected, drawn by the commotion emitting from the room, slammed into the door, earning a scream of fright from the brunette. Zoey leapt back as a bloodied, gangrened arm shot out from between the bars, flailing wildly. Her retreat was halted as Francis pushed her toward the door, not close enough for the former human to reach her, but far too close for her comfort.

"You can keep your goddamn humanity for all I care," Francis began while gripping the back of her head tightly, forcing her to look at the monstrosity beyond the door. "However, if you want to stay alive, you're going to have to make some tough choices."

Zoey slammed her eyes shut in one last attempt of resistance, but Francis gave her a quick, harsh shake, forcing them to reopen.

"Look at it."

Zoey complied.

"Does that thing look human to you?"

The thrashing hand was missing a few fingers, occasional spurts of blood pumping from the bloodied nubs. Its arm was covered in blood, whether or not it was the Infected's own blood, Zoey did not know. Patches of its hair had been ripped out, leaving only dark splotches of dried blood in their wake. Bloodstained teeth gnashed angrily at her, a mixture of blood and a strange chunky, pink substance spewing from its mouth like a river. Shallow, sunken eye sockets revealed two dead, milky orbs that stared furiously at her…almost through her.

Francis lowered his face so that it was side by side with Zoey's, his tone growing softer, more distant, with a forlorn hint to it. "Does it look human?"

Zoey shook her head silently.

The biker nodded before releasing his hold on her head, "Exactly, these guys may have been human at some point, but not anymore. They, their humanity as well, died the moment they turned into one of these bastards."

Francis stepped up to the door, pistol drawn, and lodged a bullet right between the Infected's eyes. Zoey watched the creature's arm fall from the bars as its body collapsed outside the door.

"I'm sorry," she had barely heard the biker's whispered apology before he moved through the room to his bag, pointedly ignoring Bill's glare.

She had stayed there, staring blankly at the door until Louis had eventually steered her back toward her sleeping bag. There Zoey had spent a sleepless night, Francis' words running through her mind.

Francis had been right, until then, she had just been the token girl of the group: constantly needing rescue while not wanting to harm the things that were trying to kill them. Zoey sighed, although on most occasions she'd hate to admit it, she actually owed the big lug. The biker had opened her eyes to what was really happening around them…this truly was a game of survival.

A dark-skinned hand waved frantically in front of Zoey's face, snapping her from her daze. Readjusting her vision, she found Louis giving her a worried look while Francis stood a few paces behind Bill, a questioning eyebrow raised.

"You alright, Zo?" Louis asked, the worry not leaving his face.

Zoey shook her head quickly, "Sorry, spaced out a little…it's just hard to believe we've made it this far."

Bill snorted without looking back, "Don't jinx it."

The young woman scratched the back of her head sheepishly, "Heh, right."

"So what's the plan, chief?" Francis inquired casually while stepping up beside Bill.

"There doesn't appear to be very many zombies around, so I say we scope the place out, rest up, and try to find a radio or something."

"Sounds good to me," Louis grinned while moving toward the residence-looking section of the lighthouse.

The former businessman tried to peer through the grime-covered and boarded windows, but to no avail. Shifting over, Louis gripped the doorknob, stealing a glance behind to make sure someone had his back. Zoey let her hunting rifle dangle from its strap while pulling two pistols from their holsters at her sides, offering Louis a reassuring smirk. The bald survivor gave her a grateful smile before nudging the door open, Uzi at the ready. Zoey took one last look behind her, catching Francis' nod as he and Bill moved toward the wooden stairs on her right.

"Check it out, a fireplace!" Louis called from the room, causing Zoey to turn her attention back to the businessman.

Louis nudged the charred wood with his foot as Zoey made her way over the kitchenette area. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here for a while…not sure if that's a good or a bad thing."

"Cabinets are all cleaned out," the brunette commented sourly while rising. "So much for getting more supplies."

Zoey moved to the adjacent room, quickly unloading both pistols into the screaming Infected that came charging out of the bathroom. She glanced around the room while reloading her weapons. It was relatively bare, a boarded up window sat in the corner, some overturned trash was scattered across the hardwood floor, a heater sat against the wall that occupied a few framed pictures. What caught Zoey's interest, however, was the dark graffiti scrawled on the plain white surface of a nearby wall. Creeping closer to the message, she felt a small sense of dread begin to build in her stomach as her eyes scanned the words.

10/30/09

Derek led us here.

Dead End.

Derek's dead now.

Asshole.

- KL, MN + DS

Zoey took a deep breath, calming her nerves, this didn't mean they were in trouble. If anything, it was just some people that had been convinced by another to follow them, only for their guide to be killed along the way, leaving them lost. Still, despite her best efforts, the young survivor couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that still lingered around her. She tore her eyes away from the message as Louis' voice drifted through the open door.

"Anything in there?"

Zoey made her way back to the main room, shaking her head as the bald man came into view. Louis pressed his lips into a thin line, obviously disappointed by the news. It was no myth that they were beginning to run low on food, and they all knew the longer they stayed out in "zombie country," the scarcer the edible resource became. Footsteps from outside caused the two to spin around, on guard, but relaxed when Francis and Bill entered the room.

"Someone was definitely stocking up…there's a ton of kerosene down there, quite a few propane tanks too," Francis muttered, a slightly bewildered expression on his face.

Bill scoffed while walking past him, "That's because that was the fuel room for the lighthouse."

"Sweet, a fireplace," Francis completely ignored Bill's explanation. "Any way we can get this sucker going?"

"I think I saw some firewood outside on a rack…" Zoey thought aloud while resting a finger on her chin.

"Alright!" the biker cheered while returning outside again, leaving Bill to slap his forehead with his hand.

"There's one helluva fog out on the lake," Bill commented while kneeling in front of the fireplace. Louis and Zoey remained silent as the former soldier began clearing out the opening.

A minute later, Francis returned with two armfuls of firewood, a pleasant grin donning his face. "Let's get some heat going!"

"We'll need something to spark the fire…" Bill informed without meeting the biker's gaze, still pulling out the burnt and used wood.

Francis dropped the piles onto the floor, reaching behind his back and pulling out a red gas can. He slammed the container onto the floor next to Bill, startling the veteran, "Will this work?"

Zoey nudged a log with the metal poker, shifting it to help keep the raging fire alive. They had settled down, making a semicircle around the fireplace to help keep warm from the late autumn cold. Louis listened as Bill discussed their plan of action after the lack of radio-finding, but kept his attention on the various parts in front of him as he pieced together a couple of pipe bombs. Francis practically inhaled a can of preserved peaches, half-listening to the spry old man as he listed their options.

"Since there's no radio, or any form of communication for that matter, there are only two real options left for us. We can either fire up the light and hope an offshore ship sees it, or we can backtrack into Erie and head northeast."

"You think we can make it that far with as little food as we've got left?" Francis asked skeptically, eyeing the ex-Green Beret with a humorless gaze.

Bill met his stare, not bothering to hide the doubt in his eyes, before sighing heavily, "We've cleared out most, if not all, of the Infected that would be in our way, but odds are that more of them are probably littering the road."

"We're low on food and ammunition, and Erie is definitely a hike from here, not counting the bullets and resources we'll use up if the Infected are actually blocking our route back," Zoey murmured while staring at the fire.

Louis glanced up from his now-completed bombs, "So that just leaves us with signaling a boat…"

Bill scratched his beard thoughtfully, "Looks like it."

"How are we going to turn the light on?" Zoey questioned, finally breaking her trance to glance at the elderly survivor.

"Well, so long as the tower's mechanics haven't been damaged, we'll just need to hit the breaker and turn the fuel-pump on."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Francis demanded while carefully pouring some of the remaining gasoline into an empty bottle he had found. Stuffing a rag into the bottleneck, the biker sloshed the contents around; making sure half of the cloth was soaked.

Bill turned to Francis, "One problem, what if the Infected swarm?"

Francis scoffed, "What Infected? We cleared out all of them in the area when we got here."

"He's got a point…" Louis commented, tossing a pipe bomb to Bill while handing the other to Zoey.

The veteran heaved a sigh, "Fine, let's do this and get the hell out of here."

The others nodded and grabbed their packs, shuffling toward the door with guns in tow. Zoey noted, with a small shiver, that the anxiety was still pushing against her stomach. She shook her head, reminding herself of all the positive graffiti they had crossed on the way here. They were going to be fine; after all, they had been through worse on more than one occasion. The brunette survivor couldn't help wondering though, what was going to happen once they made it to safety? Would everything just turn back to normal? Would they still stay together or would they go their separate ways? Would they be treated as heroes for surviving so long…or would they be viewed with suspicion? By the time Zoey had snapped out of her stupor, they were already in the fuel room.

Bill let his hand hover over the large switch, "Ready for this?"

"Rock 'n' roll," Francis replied while gripping the fuel pump.

"Well, here goes nothing," the ex-Green Beret muttered while flipping the toggle up.

The light bulb on the ceiling buzzed to life, illuminating the small room. Francis pulled the lever up, the sound of running fuel traveling through the small white piping that disappeared on the wall. A moment later and the rotating light from the lens reflected off the gnarled trees outside, accompanied by the repetitive sound of a fog horn.

Louis breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness for that much."

A series of inhuman howls tore through the air, drowning out the drone of the horn. Chills traveled down Zoey's spine and her heart pounded in her ears, they were there…the Infected were coming.

"The hell?" Francis roared from the sudden turn of events. "Where the hell are they coming from?"

Swarms of Infected charged through the tree line, funneling through the entranceway and the now-broken window. The survivors gunned down the incoming wall of zombies, but were quickly forced to retreat to a corner of the room as the endless wave of Infected persisted. The attack continued, and the Infected that managed to get close enough to leave a scratch or cut were rewarded with either a shotgun shell or a stream of bullets to the head. The number of Infected slowly trickled down until no more came through the opening, allowing the humans a brief moment to catch their breaths.

Bill stepped over the pile of bodies, "Let's move it, we need to get to higher ground!"

As the others moved to follow suit, a pink, boil-covered tongue suddenly whipped though the broken window, wrapping itself tightly around the veteran's throat. Bill's hand instinctively went to his neck, attempting to pry the vile appendage off, but the Smoker outside gave a violent tug before he could do so. The elderly man was thrown off his feet, his M16 clattering to the floor as his body slammed into a stack of concrete-mix bags.

"Bill!" Zoey felt the scream erupt from her throat as she scrambled over to elder survivor.

The brunette began pulling at the tongue, trying to force the appendage to slacken its hold on Bill's throat. The Smoker gave another sharp pull, earning a chocked gasp from its victim.

Zoey whirled around on her companions, "Do something!"

Louis was in a panic as he fired a burst of shots over Bill's head, hoping they would hit the assailing Infected. "I'm trying, but the trees are blocking it!"

"Francis!"

"On it!" the large biker shouted while racing over, shoving Zoey out of the way in the process.

Francis gripped the tongue tightly, squeezing it for everything he was worth. The pain appeared to reach the Smoker, as the appendage went slack and began recoiling toward its owner outside. The large biker caught Bill as he fell, sitting the ex-Green Beret up against the bags. A dark blue ring circled around his neck, leaving a horrible indention with it.

Francis let out a shaky breath, "Bill, you still alive?"

Zoey let out a sob when the old man didn't answer. He wasn't supposed to die like this, he had to lead them to safety…he was their leader, their guide, the one they could always look to for strength. He couldn't die here, damn it!

"Bill, you old piece of shit, wake up!" Francis hollered at the top of his lungs.

A strangled hiss emitted from Bill's throat as he cracked an eye open, "Quit your…damn shouting…Francis…I'm right…here…"

"Bill…" Zoey cried, feeling utterly helpless as Louis ran over to the veteran's side.

"Holy shit…" Louis breathed while examining Bill's wound. "His windpipe was nearly crushed."

"I'm sorry…for getting all of…you stuck…in this mess…I was a…terrible…leader…"

Francis snorted, "Shut the hell up Bill and let me help you. You're not done leading yet."

Bill glanced up at the biker weakly, "Fuck you…Francis…I'm a…dead man…"

"This isn't funny, Bill!" Zoey attempted, but she could feel the stress of the situation weighing down on her sanity.

"Don't cry, kiddo…everything…will be alight…"

How could he spout such…such bullshit! It was not going to be alright…nothing was going to be alright! Bill was dying! Without Bill, what would they do? Where would they go? Where could they go without a leader? Zoey felt the tears run down her cheeks, before her very eyes, she was loosing a father-figure and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

"Francis…gimme a…cigar…ette…"

The biker nodded, reached into the veteran's shirt pocket while extracting a lighter from his own jean pocket. Francis placed the white stick between Bill's lips and lit the tip, earning a weak, but appreciative, smile from the dying man. The spry old man took a drag, inhaling the nicotine before letting it out in a small cloud of smoke.

"Good…stuff…"

Another set of howls and screams echoed throughout the forest…more of them were on their way.

"Pipe…bomb…" Bill whispered while delicately holding out his hand.

Francis silently complied, vaguely aware of the sounds of coughing from outside the window.

"Now…run…" Bill ordered while bringing the fuse to his lips, lighting it with his cigarette.

A scream called out before the tongue returned, shooting through the opening toward Francis…

But was caught firmly by Bill's wrinkled hand before it could reach its target, his skills as a Green Beret still alive in his fading body.

"GO!" Bill roared, straining his wasted throat, simultaneously activating the beeping mechanism.

Francis stood, an unreadable expression on his face as he offered the ex-Green Beret a salute of respect. Bill nodded before the Smoker began to reel him in and out the window as the hordes of Infected sprinted out of the woods, attracted to the sound of the explosive in his hand.

"You bastards are in for a big surprise!" they heard Bill shout as he disappeared into the sea of gray bodies.

"Let's go!" Francis ordered while moving toward the entrance, knowing full well that Bill's distraction would end as soon as the bomb exploded.

Zoey stood perfectly still, staring in disbelief at the spot where Bill had been dragged out.

"Zoey!" the biker yelled before grabbing her arm and pulled her out of the room.

"Let's get back inside!" Louis suggested over the noise as he took point.

"Fuck that, we need to get to higher ground!" Francis argued while pointing at the top of the lighthouse.

Louis glanced at the Infected as they swarmed over Bill's body, the lit pipe bomb still clutched in his hand. "Shit, then let's go!"

The trio ran for the tower, Zoey's hollow eyes not leaving the pack of zombies as they tore into the veteran. She still stared, even as the bomb erupted in a flash of orange, bringing a spectacle of blood and gore with it. The brunette felt Francis squeeze her arm tighter.

"Damn it, Zoey, snap out of it!"

The woman's gaze suddenly refocused as Francis pulled her into the large room, Louis slamming the door shut behind them. Outside, the pounding of footsteps drew frighteningly closer, muffled snarls and screams piercing through the walls. The biker released his hold on Zoey to move a shelf and crate in front of the door. Louis backed up, keeping his Uzi trained on the door. The young woman shook her head a few times, trying to recollect her wits. Allowing her gaze to shift to the far wall on her right, Zoey felt the trepidation swallow her completely.

No Escape!

Maddie, if you can read this

RUN

They followed us here.

Only way out was the way we came.

Thousands of them now.

I LOVE YOU

- Dean

Zoey felt her breath hitch. Thousands? Christ…they were going to die here; they were actually going to die here. They couldn't fend off a thousand Infected, no matter how many bullets they had! Oh god, this place was a deathtrap! How many groups had come here only to meet their end?

A muffled roar from behind them forced Louis to spin around just as the wall exploded in a storm of dust and debris. The force of the destruction knocked Louis forward, falling to the floor in a dazed heap. The dust settled, revealing the massive frame of a Tank, and the survivors felt their fate seal itself. Francis and Zoey stood frozen in shock as the Tank glanced down at Louis, who was struggling to stand. The Tank roared once again before lifting its meaty fists, smashing them into the businessman's prone body.

"Louis!" Zoey shouted while rushing forward, her cry drowned out by her companion's howls of pain.

"F-Francis! Get her out of here!" Louis managed to scream out as the large Infected raised its arms again.

Francis gnashed at his teeth, but obeyed the younger man's wishes. He knew Louis was a goner, he could tell by the look in his eyes, and better yet, by the bits of bone that were protruding from his legs. Even if they managed to save him from the Tank, there was no way he was walking away from this, figuratively and literally. With two quick strides, the biker caught up to Zoey, wrapping an arm firmly around her midsection while doing so.

"Francis, what are you doing? We can still save him!" Zoey screamed in protest as the tattooed survivor began to pull her toward the spiral staircase. Outside, the door was slowly, but surely, being ripped away as the Infected tore into it.

With a grunt, Francis tossed the struggling woman over the railing and onto the stairs. Zoey landed awkwardly, but knew full well that it was intentional. Francis knew it would take her a little bit to right herself and shoot down the stairs to Louis' aid, and by that time, the biker would catch her again. Why was he doing this? They could still save the businessman, he was still breathing for fuck's sake!

Francis turned his attention back to his fallen comrade just as the Tank brought its fists down again. Fighting back a grimace, the biker pulled the Molotov from his waist, locking eyes with the tie-wearing survivor as the meaty fists were raised yet again. Blood was pouring from his mouth as pints of the substance traveled up the younger man's esophagus from internal bleeding. Using every ounce of willpower he possessed, Francis kept himself from sprinting over to the large Infected and unloading every shell he had into its face. With a growl, he ripped his pistol from its holster and slid both objects to the fallen man.

Gripping the weapons in each hand, Louis offered the biker a bloodstained grin, "It's been a wild ride…hasn't it?"

Merely nodding, Francis took to the staircase, catching Zoey while pulling the pipe bomb from her belt loop. Wasting little time, Francis lit the fuse and hit the toggle before chucking the explosive through the nearly destroyed door. The gray tube bounced over the flailing arms as the Infected attempted to grab and claw at the source of the vexing noise. As Zoey screamed in dissent, Francis slung her over his shoulder and jogged up the stairwell, stopping briefly to glance down at Louis.

The former business man had managed to roll over so that he was now looking up, straight into the beady, red eyes of the Tank. The assaulting Infected struck the prone man once again in the torso, causing him to cough up more blood. With a feral grin that Francis thought he'd never see on the peace-keeping man's face, Louis pushed the side of the bottle against the Tank's forehead and aimed his firearm.

"Suck on this!" Louis roared and squeezed the trigger, the bullet shattering the Molotov instantly. The bottle's contents ignited and splashed against the Tank's head and shoulders, setting its upper body ablaze.

The Tank grunted in pain, planting its arms on either side of Louis as it recovered from the sudden, searing burn. The behemoth turned its gaze upward; not even flinching as Louis emptied the pistol's remaining bullets into its flesh. Locking gazes with the two remaining survivors, Zoey could've sworn she saw the Tank smirk behind the curtain of fire that licked at its cranium. It almost appeared as if the former human was consciously aware of what it was doing…and it enjoyed it. Pushing up with its hands, the Tank lifted both massive limbs above its head. Time seemed to slow as Zoey watched in horror as the Infected leviathan swung both fists onto Louis' body one final time, crushing his ribcage and skull.

"LOUIS!"

…

…

Who was screaming? Zoey was confused beyond everything as an explosion from outside shook the building. Who on earth could be screaming like that? Was there another survivor that was hiding out here? If so, how did they know Louis? Questions and thoughts swam through Zoey's head, overloading her brain. She was so lost in the mystery that she was completely unaware that Francis had resumed sprinting up the stairwell. The steel column shook violently as the Tank slammed into it, sending the bottom half crashing into the graffiti-covered wall. The brunette gazed downward, into the eyes of the crowd of Infected that circled the decimated stairs. The screaming persisted as the former humans jumped and clawed at thin air, desperately trying to reach, but could not catch. The burning Tank roared in agitation before disappearing through the hole in the wall.

Who was screaming?

With horrified realization, Zoey knew…

…She was the one screaming…

Francis dropped Zoey unceremoniously against the steel wall of the lighthouse when they had reached the outside viewing deck. The biker peered over the railing, noting with grim satisfaction that the scores of Infected that surrounded the house had yet to notice them, and the burning Tank, whose grunts could still be heard, was nowhere to be found. Kneeling in front of the prone woman, Francis lightly slapped her cheek, attempting to snap her out of the stress-induced stupor she was experiencing.

"Come on, Zoey," Francis offered while shaking her gently. "Snap out it, you think they'd want you to act like this?"

Blue eyes came alive with blazing fury, accentuated by a hard shove to the biker's chest. "Fuck you, Francis! You have no right to speak of them!"

"Zoey…" Francis felt his patience dwindle.

"No! Seriously, fuck you, Francis! At least I tried to help them! What about you? We could have saved them both, but no, you just let them die!"

Under any other circumstance, Francis would have grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. He wasn't an advocate for hitting women, but there was no way in hell he'd allow anyone to talk shit on him to his face and get away with it. Zoey's was a peculiar case though, and the biker knew it. The young woman didn't mean anything that she was saying; it was all just a month's worth of stress, fear, and anxiety that had finally reached its zenith. Zoey could blame him for Bill's and Louis' deaths, he didn't care. Sooner or later, she would come to accept the fact that there was nothing they could've done to save their fallen companions, no matter how much they wanted to.

Zoey huffed as her lungs ran out of air; her face was red with anger and tears streamed from puffy red eyes. Panting for a minute, the brunette attempted to resume yelling at the biker, but only incoherent sounds left her tightening throat. With another scream, Zoey lunged at Francis, punching him with every ounce of strength her grief-stricken heart could muster. The large man did nothing to retaliate as the tiny fists repeatedly struck him, choosing to sit there until the young woman had let out all her anger; after all, it's not like her punches actually hurt or anything. After a moment, the young survivor began to slow down as sobs racked her tiny frame.

"Zoey…I…"

"Shut up!" Zoey screamed, her fist connecting with the side of Francis' face.

The biker recoiled slightly at this, Zoey may not have looked like much on the outside, but he had to give it to her, she could throw a southpaw when she wanted to. Francis opened his mouth, about to try and talk Zoey down again, but an earthshaking roar bellowed from beneath them. Francis leaned over the railing just in time to see the blazing Tank hurl a large piece of concrete at them.

"Get down!" Francis shouted while tackling Zoey to the ground.

The rock crashed into the railing, causing the metal to snap, pieces flying in all directions. Dust and debris rained down around the pair, enveloping them in a thick cloud. Below, the charred Tank sank to its knees as the flames took their toll. Zoey groaned in pain while slowly pushing herself into a sitting position, vaguely noting that her ponytail had come undone. Unconsciously tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, the brunette checked herself over, letting out a sigh of relief upon finding no new injuries.

"Francis?" Zoey called out groggily while trying to stand. "You alright?"

"…Been better," came Francis' weak reply from the other side of the clearing dust.

Zoey felt her eyes widen in horror as the cloud dissipated, and instantly wished she could take back her earlier comments. Francis was lying on the steel grating, pale-faced and a broken piece of railing impaled through his stomach. The sight made her quaking knees give out, a new sense of helplessness washing over her. Zoey crawled over to Francis, desperately wishing that this was all just some bad dream.

Francis cracked an eye open as Zoey leaned over him, "Hey…"

Zoey was frozen, unsure of what to say. Part of her wanted to break down and cry, while another wanted to play off the situation. That's right, this was Francis, Mr. Indestructible, the man who could, and would, unflinchingly face down an entire horde of Infected with a maniacal grin on his face. She wanted to say so many things, but felt her heart lurch and settled on a pathetic "…Hey."

"Could you help me with this? My right arm doesn't seem to want to move at the moment," Francis requested, almost casually, while motioning to the shrapnel protruding from his stomach.

Zoey nodded weakly as shaking hands reached out to grip the shard of metal. Francis' gloved hand joined hers, the biker gripping the base of the metal rod tightly. Receiving a nod from her companion, the brunette pulled slowly, trying to disrupt the injury as little as possible. Zoey watched with increasing worry as Francis' face twisted into an agonizing grimace, his skin paling several more shades. After what seemed like an eternity, the duo managed to pull the last of the blood-covered shrapnel from the biker's torso.

"Well that stung a little bit," Francis muttered while pressing a hand against the wound, which was starting to bleed profusely.

Seeing the blood, Zoey began to panic, immediately dropping her pack onto the floor beside them. Bloodstained hands dug frantically through the bag, "Hang on, we can patch that up!"

"Pointless…" the biker murmured in protest, half-lidded eyes inspecting the young woman kneeling over him.

"God damn it, where is that med kit?" Zoey shouted in distress, her eyes beginning to water unbeknownst to her.

Flinging the pack to the side in frustration, the brunette survivor threw off her jacket, pushing the pink material against the gaping wound in desperation. The blood quickly seeped through the cotton, bringing a dark red stain to Zoey's vision. Keeping one hand pushed against the jacket, she brought the other to her face, futilely trying to wipe away the tears that were now falling freely.

"Stupid, useless jacket's not working…" Zoey sobbed, her bangs falling from their place behind her ear and shrouding her face.

"Zoey," the sternness of Francis' voice caused her to lift her gaze to meet his soft brown orbs. "Stop it; I'm not making it out of here."

"Shut up, you idiot…the boat will be here any minute now, and then we'll escape...together."

The biker snorted, "Sorry to burst your bubble, but look at the lake."

Zoey glanced over the railing into the distance, her blue eyes attempting to see through the fog. She was about to ask what the hell her companion was talking about, but then she saw it as the fog began to lift.

Offshore, within her field of vision, sat at least three half-sunken ships, having long since been abandoned by their crews.

Zoey felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach as she took in the sight. They…they never had a chance of escaping this place. From the moment that had stepped foot on the property, their lives had been forfeited. Bill…Louis, what had they died for? Their sacrifices weren't going to mean shit if none of them could even make out of this hellhole! Zoey felt her gaze shift to the ground, her eyes widening when they came across several Infected climbing onto the rooftop. Blotched, milky eyes glared furiously at her and angered screams drifted up to reach the survivor's ears. The sound of a cocked gun made Zoey spin around quickly.

"Francis, what the hell are you doing?"

The biker was kneeling dangerously close to the edge of the destroyed railing, shotgun in hand. Tired, pain-riddled eyes glanced up at her, "Face it, neither of us are making out of here alive."

Zoey felt her jaw drop, "So what on earth are you going to do?"

Francis smirked weakly, "Cover you, of course."

"What…Why?"

The biker shrugged, hissing momentarily as the movement aggravated his injury. "You gotta warn the other poor sons of bitches about this place, or else they'll just end up like we did."

Zoey watched as Francis' breathing became shallow and ragged, "…But…how?"

"I'll leave you to figure that one out," Francis smirked again, but grew more serious as he gazed at her. "…You look better with your hair down…"

The brunette blinked, dumbfounded at the biker's horrible timing for compliments. However, before she could respond, he flashed a cocky grin, "See you on the other side, Zo."

"Francis!" but it was too late, the biker had already dropped down onto the rooftop below them as the swarms of Infected climbed onto the roof from every direction.

Leaning over the edge of the balcony, Zoey watched as Francis shifted himself into a sitting position, leaning against the lighthouse for support. The line of Infected sprinted closer, their attention drawn to the seemingly defenseless biker. The young woman could have sworn she heard the large man break into a fit of crazed laughter.

"You sick motherfuckers think you can take me on? I'm Francis, you fucking vampires!"

As the shouting biker began firing into the crowd, Zoey pushed herself into a standing position, not wishing to see his imminent demise. She slowly moved around the circular balcony, unsure of what to do. How the hell was she supposed to warn people that this place was a deathtrap? Graffiti led them here…and it obviously didn't deter them from signaling a boat anyway. They had used graffiti as the main, and sometimes only, source of information from other survivors. So what else could she do if spray painting a message didn't work?

Coming back full circle, Zoey noticed, for the first time, a large message that was scrawled on the side of the lighthouse:

JONATHAN KENSRUE

I WILL KILL THEM

UNTIL THEY GET ME

Reading the account on the man's last stand on the lighthouse's peak, Zoey suddenly felt the fear wash away, a grim determination replacing it. As if in a trance, the spunky survivor made her way back over to her pack, unconsciously biting her lower lip as the sounds of ripping flesh reached her. Bypassing the bag, Zoey bent down and gripped her hunting rifle tightly. Pulling the magazine from its slot, she almost laughed when it revealed a bullet…one bullet. This was starting to feel way too much like a cheesy horror movie. Standing next to the decimated railing, the sole survivor gazed out at the horde of zombies. Infected littered the ground and woods as far as she could see. The gate they had come through was knocked down, trampled beneath the endless current of former humans. It looked like an ocean in a storm, moving in all directions with an uncanny unpredictability.

Bill…the soldier…the father…

Zoey raised the scope to her eye, ignoring the Infected on the rooftop below as they leapt and screamed at her.

Louis…the civilian…the brother…

Above her, the light continued to rotate, the droning of the foghorn blaring all around her.

Francis…the martyr…the enigma…

Zoey felt victimized for the briefest of moments, how could they do this to her? To leave her to watch as they all died before her very eyes, forcing her to say goodbye to her friends…nay, her family that she had come to love. The feeling passed as the brunette found the target she sought.

With a playful and genuinely happy smile, Zoey whispered one final promise before pulling the trigger. The bullet punctured the small metal piping that ran along the side of the house, igniting the kerosene inside. The fire shot in two directions, the flame reaching the fuel room first. The small building erupted in bright flash, consuming the adjacent building with it. The Infected clinging to the structure were instantly incinerated, the surrounding masses flailing back as the heat scorched their gray flesh. The rest of the flame sprang up the remaining pipe, reaching the rotating lens in less than a heartbeat. The glass case shattered outward, an inferno roaring out in all directions.

Zoey felt the wall behind her explode, the flames consuming her frail body in their embrace. As the fire licked at her skin and the lighthouse collapsed, the smile remained on her lips.

"I'm on my way…"

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

A/N: Let's see, what to say about this? I wrote this piece because I was slightly disappointed at the lack of Lighthouse-themed stories for L4D. I mean, there was an overabundance of No Mercy's, plenty of Death Toll's, quite a few Dead Air's, and even a few Blood Harvest's, but near-zero Last Stand's. So I felt I should try and do the map some justice, for my own sake if anything else. For me, the lack of given plot revolving around the franchise is what makes the story so cool. If you want some background or story, you actually have to go out in each campaign and find it, which leads me to my love of L4D's graffiti. The three messages that are posted at the lighthouse set the mood of Survival Mode so well and just further stress the "You're all going to die" factor.

"Lux Aeterna" is just such a wicked song, and really helped set the mood for the week-long project. The whole time visualizing each the scenes I had nothing but Aeterna playing in my head. "Empty Walls" was a little peculiar with tying into this story. I was originally going to have Zoey seek temporary refuge in a sealed room near the top of the lighthouse, and begin weaving the "mocking empty walls" into the delicate battle of sanity that someone so young would be experiencing. I chose not to add the scene because I wanted to keep the map as close to the original as possible, the only exception being the spiral stairwell isn't destroyed until after the survivors get there.

Please Read and Review with any comments, flames, criticisms, or supportive words. Your responses help better me as a writer. *cheesy thumbs up*