the apocalypse can wait a little (Left 4 Dead Hunter x Survivior One-Shot)

the apocalypse can wait a little

Her muscles ache with exertion in a way that is rapidly becoming very familiar. Her legs ache from having to constantly walk and run, her back hurts from the heavy backpack, her arms and shoulder hurt from having to carry and shoot heavy guns with a strong recoil. There's bruises there, she's sure, backpack strap burns and sores. She's tired, and she'd love nothing more than somewhere safe to hunker down for the night right about now.

Normally, surviving in the southwest of the US wasn't so bad, but the gathering clouds and the wind that kept picking up heralded a rapidly incoming monsoon, and she did not want to be caught in the middle of it. But when she's stuck outside during the Apocalypse in a city overrun with zombies, a raging storm is a much less pleasant or welcome occurrence.

She puts a bullet in another infected mostly out of reflex, not even stopping to watch as the illness-ridden body crumples to the ground as she continues her march. Red jumps somewhere around; she can see a streak of his red hoodie from time to time, mostly on the rooftops as he picks off what special infected he can and warns her of those he doesn't quite manage.

(After all, he only has two hands. She has a gun.)

Fern sighs and quickly climbs on top of a scaffolding and then a roof as his shriek reverberates through the area, hispitch and tone she made sure to memorise above all; soon enough the ground shakes as a Tank lumbers through the cars.

She ducks in the corner, safely out of its line of sight, and hurls a Molotov at it, setting its bulk alight as it roars in pain and fury, clearly understanding that something, someone, is hurting it, but unable to see who and where. The key to killing that thing solo has always been not letting it see you.

She didn't want to get acquainted with a car face-first, thank you very much.

Fern sneaks into the building through the half-collapsed wall, and picks off what stray walkers stand in her way with her handguns. When she hits their vital points, they crumple easily enough, and Fern was always good at aiming and shooting, even while moving. Efficiency with what she had was always vital to her survival, even before the Flu.

She shoulders the door to the rooftop only to be almost jumped by a Jockey of all things. She hears the creepy giggle a second too late, manages to turn halfway through, and then suddenly the Jockey shrieks and gurgles as Red pounces on the creature and rips its head off, jaw left hanging limply on Jockey's torso as it crumples to the ground in blissful silence. Fern uses that moment to close the door behind her and steady her heart from the scare. She can't afford to freeze, not even in relative safety.

"Fern," Red rasps and tugs at her sleeve with his clean hand, the other carelessly throwing Jockey's head to the side. "Fern, Tank."

Speaking of it, the Tank roars somewhere on the ground level as the flames go out.

"I know, I heard you the first time," Fern says, and pats his head. He nuzzles into her hand briefly, but soon enough he's stepping away. No time for distractions now. "Already crisped him up a bit. Give me my rifle."

He turns around so that she can grab the sniper secured to his back with a belt, and then she's making herself comfortable on the rooftop. The Tank notices her by chance, because of course it does, the glint of something catching its eye, and it's already grabbing a car to hurl at her; she feels Red tense next to her, ready to grab her and roll away at a moment's notice. She stays still, aims and pulls the trigger and suddenly the hulking behemoth crumples like a marionette with cut strings and a hole in between its eyes, the car it picked up falling on top of it, pinning it further. Fern lets out a relieved sigh.

"One problem less, huh, buddy?"

Red only purrs in answer, and he's already standing back up and looking around.