(Book 3) Left 4 Dead 3: Dry County

1.2

Sounds of engine roaring like a beast barged into the soundless void, the Humvee's beams sliced through the impenetrable darkness. It seemed all the colors evacuated too along with the people trying to escape the chaos. Nothing would've been made unless light touched it. 

Only small portions of the road were visible to them as they drove through the ominous shade. It was as hard for Brenan to drive as it was hard to believe that the desert was scorched by the sun in the day, but forsaken by it in the night. 

As they drove straight through the underworld, the beams would catch a huge sign installed by the road. They were able to make out what it was saying before they got past it. 

Esco, home of Northern diversity. 

“Northern diversity?” Dwain wondered. “Utah’s not even in the North, what does that even mean?” 

“Man, I dunno what's up with them town mottos,” Brenan responded. “It’s like they just think of random words and kinda just throw ‘em out right away, ‘There's our motto’. 

“I mean, don't get me wrong, there are good ones out there. Y'know, where I'm from, there's a town that had a motto that goes ‘Dream high in a magical place’.”

“That doesn't sound wrong at all,” Dwain responded.

“Well, it is when you're living in Hempsville,” 

“Wow. Who was their mayor? Snoop Dogg?”

“And Willie Nelson as sheriff,”

“Population: 420” 

Short cackles filled the front seats after. Jess shook her head, she frowned upon their silliness. The jokes weren't even that good. But on the other hand, it helped Brenan and Dwain forget about the horrors of the world they're in even for a second. 

The vehicle dove forward as Brenan hit the brakes. They stumbled upon an intersection. There was a street sign that’s labeled Main 1st. With Brenan’s discretion, he made a right turn. The scene hadn't changed—aimless backdrop taking over the dry realms. But after driving a few meters further, a few adjacent establishments popped up, albeit by no means they had beacons in them, apparently. The humvee moved at a slow pace, allowing the group to scan the whole area. 

“This place's a fuckin’ ghost town,” Brenan commented. 

“I got a feeling it's always been this way even before the zombies,” Dwain remarked.

Amidst their leisurely stroll, they came across a banner. It had that familiar triangular seal with four letters paired with it. CEDA. Among the sea of words, in which a few stood out. 

EVACUATION AREA

GALLAGHER SECONDARY SCHOOL

“Y'all up for another stupid choice?” Brenan queried as they gawked at the banner. 

A weary sigh escaped Dwain. “Let's just get through this shit.” 

The paramedic lugged the gearshift and hit the pedal, launching the vehicle further into the shaded oblivion.

***

They kept following the directions the signs were pointing them. Until finally, they have reached the school. The humvee pulled up and the engine ceased roaring. Its lights shut off, and the shadows reigned once again. 

The team jumped out of the vehicle and gathered on the back. The unseen cold air is an understatement. Despite the complete darkness, they were able to make out some images of the things around them. 

Brenan pulled out his little flashlight and shone it on their way, while Dwain popped up the trunk. He fumbled through the compartment and fished out the helmets with night vision goggles attached to them, which they took out from the dead soldiers back in the convoy. 

They've crowned the helmets on their heads and strapped them up. Then, they rolled down the goggles, and suddenly, the world looked different in their eyes, albeit everything was green, but it was clearer. 

“We look like idiots,” Brenan remarked.

“You beat us by being one,” Jess taunted. 

“Don't start shit now, children,” Dwain implored as he loaded his crossbow with, of course, an arrow. “Let's go.” 

Dwain led the team, his crossbow raised, ready to take on every threat. He chose to go with the crossbow over the rifle he got from a dead soldier, as it was covert. Jess unholstered her pistols, already forfeiting the essence of their stealth. She had no time for ridding the dried blood off her machete. Daeshim followed, wielding his Halligan. And Brenan way behind, armed with a fire axe. 

They climbed up the stairwell and went straight into the school entrance. Echoes resounded their presence. The hallway that was once vibrant with children's murmurs and laughter. The locker room was a cacophony of metal clanging, doors slamming, and locks clicking. The footsteps that are either burdened by the will to learn, weighted by agitation, or filled with fear, running away from bullies. All of those were gone, replaced by nothing but destruction, dead silence, and the dreadful gloom. 

Dwain crept through the hallway. His steps laden with caution. Seeing a supposedly spirited place succumbed to horror gave him chills. But that didn't push back his resolve. 

He took a turn into another hallway. The grim eternity casted a weight upon his chest, but the green tint drowned it out. His heart was racing, pounding with a mixture of fear and fury. His grips tightened, almost breaking the weapon. His pace became slower, wary. Sharp, hostile glares protruded through his goggles, slicing through the dark. He swept every corner, every wall, every gap where a threat could be lurking, waiting for a right cue to attack. 

The others followed. Their hairs stood on ends. They kept alert with their surroundings. Their footsteps and heartbeats were the only sounds they could hear. They kept looking over their shoulders. All of them looming under the cloud of uncertainty of what else they might encounter in the dusk.

Dwain raised a fist, it was a plea to halt. Everybody was stalled by the wall, there was a stairwell behind it. Seizing his doubt, he took a peek. Nothing. He gestured to everyone to move. Once again, he led, his will to kill amping up. He swept the first level. There was another turn, leading to the second floor. He took the first step.

A figure emerged. Its distinct shrieks echoed. 

Dwain's heart jumped out. The shadow bolted, coming to him fast. Hastily, he aimed the weapon. A wheeze pierced the air. The shrieks were cut off. Soft thuds followed as the flaccid creature tumbled down. Dwain reached the dead. He pulled the arrow out and reloaded his crossbow. Then, they climbed further, and the march went on. 

Second floor. The view hadn't changed. But the air became fiercer. Probably because of the windows; they were left open. The abandoned hallways wept its desolation and tugged Dwain's heartstrings. They kept moving. Their thread firm with Dwain as the needle, going around the pitch-black fabric. Only to be broken by a loud crash. A figure broke through a door they were passing by. It barged into the grotesque peace as it lunged at Daeshim. He dropped his Halligan and they quickly plunged into the cursed floor.

The team scattered. The green tint allowed them to witness the clash clearly. 

Loud, rapid squeals plead Daeshim's protest. The air was hung with exasperation. He frantically thrashed the creature dominating him. His screams were heavy with his will to be freed from being bounded by its caress. He unleashed constant pounces towards the figure. But then, his arm fell into its mouth. 

And its teeth caught him, its fangs being buried into his skin. A painful whine stood out, resounding the peak of his infernal torment. 

Jess reacted fast, and lifted a strong kick towards the creature. It was thrown off the Korean like a football. She pursued as it rolled away. And then, minced it with constant, alternate shots from her pistols. 

Daeshim whimpered. He threw his helmet away, he chased his breath and regained composure. He looked up, and his eyes caught a muzzle on his forehead, Jess on the other end of it. Her lips twinged, and her finger hugged the trigger. And right then, Daeshim's life flashed before his eyes.