(Book 1) Left 4 Dead 3: First Blood

1.3

Amidst the mayhem, the crowd scattered in a frenzy, creating a tumultuous stampede, while the relentless gunfire reverberated, growing louder and more ear-splitting with every passing second. A group of obviously messed up individuals emerged from a tent, launching a vicious assault on the soldiers and CEDA personnel, forcing them to unleash a barrage of bullets in return.

The Asian's heart pounded in his chest as he snatched his phone from the ground, his eyes darting frantically in every direction, trying to make sense of the nightmarish scene unfolding before him. Chills ran down his spine, and his body trembled with fear. This was a world he had never imagined, and now it was swallowing him whole, etching terror into his very soul.

A chaotic ballet of violence played out before his eyes. The infected attacked their prey with savage ferocity, tearing flesh from bone, leaving behind a trail of carnage and despair. The brutality of it all threatened to break his mind, as his innocent eyes bore witness to horrors that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

Time seemed to slow, every sound muted to a haunting silence, as he struggled to comprehend the nightmare he had stumbled into. The terror was palpable, the air heavy with dread, as he found himself trapped in a living nightmare.

Suddenly, a stampede engulfed him, pushing him down to the ground. The weight of bodies crashed upon him, crushing him beneath the thrashing mass of human fear. Agonizing pain shot through his body, but desperation fueled his will to survive. With gritted teeth, he clawed his way out of the chaotic pile of bodies, ignoring the searing agony coursing through his veins.

Whimpering in agony, he tore through the sea of panicked people, his focus solely on escaping the living hell that surrounded him. The line between friend and foe blurred as everyone fought for survival. He became a force of nature, a primal instinct driving him forward, tearing away from the grip of madness.

But terror only intensified when he felt a chilling grip on his left foot. Glancing back, he was met with the grotesque face of a woman, her eyes yellow and malevolent. With a fierce kick, he freed himself from her clutches, his heart racing like a wild stallion as he raced alongside the desperate crowd.

Their collective fear fueled a frantic race for survival. Bullets whizzed through the air, and the sound of screams pierced the chaos. He pushed himself beyond the limits, the pain in his body a distant echo compared to the threat that pursued him.

With every ounce of strength left in him, he ran harder, faster, pushing his body to its absolute limit. The adrenaline surged through his veins, giving him an almost superhuman energy. He had to escape this living hell, to outrun the unspeakable horrors lurking at every corner. The world around him blurred, his only focus on escape, escape from the clutches of the apocalypse.

***

The athletic man's attention was drawn outside the window by a disturbing sight. Once again, he witnessed the infected chasing after people, making it hard to distinguish friend from foe.

“Shit, we're being attacked!” the CEDA agent exclaimed, reaching for a small storage hinged on the metal wall, pulling out a shiny small black piece of metal out of it, which turned out to be a M9 Beretta pistol.

“Stay back!” he ordered the ebony male, as he prepared the gun for action.

Approaching the doorway with trepidation, the agent cautiously opened the door, and what he saw sent a shockwave of terror through his veins. A man in a tattered black hoodie crawled on the ground, his arms covered in grotesque blisters, his eyes staring into the abyss of madness. The agent's heart pounded in his chest, but before he could react, the creature lunged at him with terrifying speed.