Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or Infected from Left 4 Dead. They belong to Valve. However, I own all the characters that do not exist in the Left 4 Dead universe, such as Vincent.

Author's Note: This is my very first story. Reviews would be much appreciated, as would comments on how to improve this story. I will create a new chapter about every week or two.

Chapter 1: Freedom

A man sat down on the couch and lazily turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels, until he came across the news. The man leaned forward and listened. "CEDA has reported that the "Green Flu" virus is continuing to spread rapidly across the country," the woman on the TV said in a worried tone. "They have not released any other information, except to wash your hands, barricade your homes, avoid contact with any infected individuals, and to wait for further instructions. Right now, the police behind me are evacuating the civil- AAAAAAAARGH!"

A shriek sounded and a hooded figure jumped onto the woman and begun clawing at her. The camera fumbled, fell to the ground and a screen saying "We are experiencing technical difficulties." popped up.

The man sat up with a sigh, "I knew this day would come. The day where the world begins to end and we become an endangered species... This is a blessing. This is the day that grants us freedom. We have nothing to worry about now except for survival, and I am prepared to survive. I, Vincent, am not ready to go down without a fight..."

Vincent looked out of his apartment window to see the streets littered with cars and people wandering around, panicking, trying to call for help on their cell phones. He turned and got out a backpack from a closet. Vincent checked to make sure he had everything he would need. As soon as he heard of the "Green Flu" virus, he knew something was terribly wrong. He immediately had went out and bought everything in case this would happen. Vincent also went to the closet and got out an Auto Shotgun, several pistols, combat knives, and two magnums. He put the pistols into the backpack and again made sure everything was inside. Flashlights, clothes, watches, batteries, snacks, candy bars, bags of chips, bottles of water and soda, and most important of all, ammunition. Vincent knew that his backpack wouldn't be able to store large guns like shotguns and automatic weapons, but he could stock up on ammo so he could use those guns if he ever found them. "I figure I'll have enough snacks to survive for a few weeks or so." he thought.

He picked up the shotgun, holstered the magnums, and turned to leave his apartment. He looked back upon it one more time. The apartment had been his home for about six years now. And now, he was about to leave it forever. He had to leave the city. This place was no longer safe. Vincent sighed, and left the building. He took the stairs down, opened the door to outside, and found the street completely devoid of people. "Strange, there were a lot of people here earlier..." Vincent thought worriedly. He walked down the street cautiously. He rounded the street corner and saw a man with his back towards him. "Hey, are you all right man?" Vincent called out.

The man, if he could be called that, turned around and screamed at him. His flesh was a sickly gray color and he had blood on his mouth. He ran up to Vincent and began beating him. The man knocked Vincent on the ground and continued beating him. "Aaagh, what the fuck is your problem!" hissed Vincent.

Vincent shoved the man off of him and leveled his shotgun at the man's chest. The man ran towards him and Vincent fired a single shotgun shell at him. The man's chest exploded, showing body parts and blood all over the street and onto Vincent. "Ah yuck." gasped Vincent.

He wiped off some of the blood off of his clothes and continued down the street. He came across a McDonalds and saw a man running away. "Hey, wait up!" yelled Vincent.

He ran as fast as he could and when he caught up to the man, he was panting. "What are you running from?" Vincent questioned.

"Just get the fuck out of the way!" screamed the man and took off faster than ever.

Vincent turned around and saw about thirty figures running towards him, all with the same sickly gray flesh as the man he killed earlier. Vincent ran for his life, firing his shotgun as he went. Soon, his shotgun belched its last shot and there were still plenty of them after him. Vincent held his shotgun with one hand, drew one of his magnums, and continued firing. The mob went down after his magnum had also belched out its last round. Vincent panted, and wiped some of the sweat off of his face. He then paused to reload his shotgun and magnum and then continued on. He then found the man that was running earlier, leaning against a car.

"My coworkers, they were all infected!" he yelled. "My god, I still remember. They fell down, their skin, OH GOD! Then they got up, started towards me. They almost got me..."

The man broke into sobs. Vincent noticed his flesh was turning gray, and his stomach started swelling up. "OH GOD WHAT'S HAPPENIN- NNNNGGH AAAAAAAH!" cried the man, louder than ever.

Vincent pulled out his shotgun. The man got up, with very noticeable differences. His face was covered with blobs of gray flesh and his stomach was extremely big and bloated.

"Blah, blah, BLAAAAAAH!" gurgled the bloated man and vomited upon him.

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING." yelled Vincent as a green smelly substance sprayed all over him, blinding him.

Vincent heard a scream and through the thick vomit, he saw more infected running towards him. Vincent fired his shotgun as fast as he could, but many of the infected reached him and beat him to the ground. He felt pain lancing throughout his body. He quickly kicked off all the infected on him and fired the rest of his shotgun shells at them. The bloated man was preparing to vomit at him again, but Vincent didn't give him a chance he quickly shoved him back and quickly pulled out his magnum and fired a single round. The man exploded, leaving only his little legs behind. If it wasn't so dangerous, Vincent would've laughed. He got up and and wiped the rest of the green substance off his clothes. Vincent left the parking lot and went into the McDonald he had passed earlier. The place was a utter mess. There were dead bodies everywhere, some human, some infected. He went into the back, and saw the kitchen door was made of red steel. "I could stay here for a bit." Vincent muttered. Luckily, the steel door was unlocked. He went in and saw a bar on the floor. He put the bar backed on the door so no infected could get him. He saw two dead bodies in the kitchen, one human, one infected. The human body was holding a note. Vincent picked up the note and read it.

My dear sweet Samantha,

Work down at the McDonald has taken a turn for the worse. We're holed up in the kitchen; me, Bob and Will. This sickness...it's no flu. Apparantly, this sickness causes us to turn into something similar to...zombies.

Earlier today, Bob decided to go out and find some help. He never returned. It's been three days. Me and Will have been surviving on the burgers in here. Soon, Will complained of a stomachache. I tried to comfort him, but I noticed his skin was turning gray. He knew he was going to become one of them and asked me to end his life. I...I did and now I'm the only one left in here.

I hope this note somehow gets to you, because you'll need to hear what I have heard if you want to survive. These infected, there are many different types. One is a extremely fat individual that vomits some sick green substance all over you and causes other infected to come after you.

"So that's what's the man turned into." Vincent thought. He continued reading.

Another is a zombie in a hoodie. Do not underestimate this one, he will jump on you and claw out your innards until you are dead.

"That's probably what mauled that woman on the news..." muttered Vincent.

There are a few more I need you to know about. One is a tall individual which generates a cloud of smoke. He uses a really long...well how should I say it, tongue, to grab you and claw you to death. This next one scares the living hell out of me. How should I describe how he looks like...well...He looks like the Incredible Hulk. It's pretty obvious what he can do. But the most dangerous, my god...Whatever you do, do not follow the sound of crying. Oh god, the infected! They're trying to break through the door! The bar just came off! It looks like this is the end of me. Goodbye, my beloved.

Your loving husband,

Jake

Vincent gave a moment of a silence to Jake's body and put the note into his backpack. He was hungry and searched the kitchen for food. He found several burgers, sat down, and started eating one. He also found a bottle of cola and drank from it. The taste was refreshing, considering what he went through today. "I'll stay here for a day or so..." thought Vincent. He packed the other burgers into his backpack. He took out a watch from his backpack and checked the time. It was 6:42 P.M. Vincent saw something of interest near the stove. It looked like an explosive, shaped like a long stick, and looked to be crudely and hastily made. "If this is an explosive, it might come in handy later." he remarked. He put it down next to him and went to sleep.