Left4Dead: Sentient

Part 1—The Hospital

Chapter 1—Standard Protocol

Maybe if I just sit here quietly and pretend this isn't happening, all my problems will go away...

The chopper gradually succumbs to the distant clouds somewhere over the Empire State Building, between brightly colored billows of smoke emanating from strategically placed flares planted on multiple rooftops; evac zones identical to the one we're standing on.

Except we're not on it anymore.

"DAMNIT!!" Marco plunges a white-knuckled fist into the metal cover of a nearby air conditioning unit, leaving only a feeble dent.  This infuriates him further, sending him into a fit of thrown punches and swearing.

"Shut the hell up, Marco!” John bellows finally, grabbing Marco by the arm and shoving him back a step, ending his tantrum. “Crying about it's not gonna bring that chopper back!" 

"Well what am I supposed to do?!" he snaps, "Smile and be happy that we just got kicked out of the fucking helicopter and left in the middle of God knows where?!"

"I wouldn't say God knows where," I say, steadying my voice, “We’re in Brooklyn right now, on the University Hospital, I think.  I can tell you that much.”

"Yeah, that really helps," Marco bites back, hands raised to indicate the wasteland of a city around us, "We know we're in Brooklyn.  You want a cookie or something?  New York is crawling with zombies!!  We're stuck on top of a fucking hospital with no way out of here and no one to help us!!  But at least we know we're in fucking Brooklyn, right?!"

"Don't bitch at me for trying to help, Marco!  You’re not the only one who’s upset that we got left behind!”

"It was for the safety of the other passengers on that chopper, at least," John interjects, "If we would have stayed, we could have infected everyone else, including the pilot.  It's bad enough, what happened to that poor girl," his gaze falls to the ground.  "I still wish we knew which one of us was the Carrier, though."

"I'm beginning to think we may all be Carriers," Damen suggests, not taking his eyes off of his sweeping view of Brooklyn, "Think about it-- we've been traveling together for how long now?  Two days?  We weren't on the helicopter for more than an hour when Yuki gave that girl a drink, and we've all been sharing from that canteen.  At least one of us would be infected by now if we weren't all Carriers to begin with."

Fuck.

"So you're saying no one will help us now?" I wonder aloud.

"Well then, we're gonna have to hold our own for a while," John answers, "I think our biggest worry right now should be getting out of the city."

Seems like a good enough option.  Not that we really have any other options, anyway.

I turn to face the others.  "Marco and I should be able to get us out of the city, both of us lived here for years.  I don't know about you," I nod in Marco's direction, "But I think I know my way around here pretty well."

Marco's eyes sweep over the city.  "Yeah, so do I.  We're probably gonna want to head North, all the choppers I've seen are heading that way.  Taking the Brooklyn Bridge is probably the fastest way out of here."

"How far is the bridge?" Damen asks.

"I can see it from here, it can't be more than fifteen, twenty minutes."

The decision is unanimous.  We all take a minute to reload our weapons, checking and double checking our equipment and deciding when and where to stop off for a resupply.  We're all armed, and makeshift ‘health packs’ adorn each of our backs.  John offers to carry our sustenance, which consists of a few canned goods and a box of Saltines stuffed into an old tote.  We decide not to scavenge on our way through the hospital, in case there are any other nasty viruses or diseases lurking in whatever we'll find down there.