The Rock mod for Left 4 Dead

With the picture of the city quickly receding further back into the distance, the four survivors exited San Francisco Bay in their hastily stolen Blackhawk, many of the firearms were still in their gun racks onboard.

Being startled awake Louis’s stomach dropped. Wide-eyed he turned towards the pilot, yelling to be heard over the roar of the motor blades

“What just happened?”

The pilot glanced over at Louis gesturing towards his own ears; Louis remembered and promptly plugged in his helmet mike, panic slowly crept into his voice.

“Shit Francis, what just happened?”

“We hit some turbulence again sleeping beauty”

Louis sunk back into his seat, visibly relaxed for the moment.

“Stop calling me that” Louis cringed every time he heard himself being called by that name.

Francis flashed a smile, “Just messing with you beautiful”

He fumed “Dammit what did I just say!” He wasn’t going to put up with it much longer.

Francis threw up his hands, communicating the universal gesture of “Like I care you have a problem with it?”; the pilot’s throttle was swaying wildly in front of him, as lively as a startled fish caught on a hook.

“Hey come on, I was just messing”

Louis’s eyes went wide with horror “What are you doing!” his shrieking was rudely interrupted by Francis’s hearty laughter.

“Your right” Francis was laughing so hard he was wheezing for breath.

He effortlessly regained control of the chopper.

“That was no way for me to behave in front of a lady” he smiled sheepishly, silently preparing for what was inevitably going to be happening to him next.

Louis’s face went from sheer terror to a red hue of frustration in no less than the amount of time it took for them both to realize what was causing the helo to lose altitude.

The helo dropped again, Bill was having enough trouble trying to stay asleep as it was.

If those two had been under his command back in ‘nam, he’d of planted them both into an anthill and been done with them.

He began to shift again, struggling to feel comfortable on his makeshift bed with what little space was own left of his row of seats. While getting comfortable again he absent mindedly bumped into Zoey, forcing her to reluctantly meet the world with a groggy mind, she mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said, are they fighting again?”

Bill helped himself to a good laugh “Louis probably got referenced to sleeping beauty again” Zoey shared it too.

“So who do we have?”

“Well let’s see, there’s Modern Art, Sleeping Beauty…” he struggled with next one, wat was it again? Dirt? Birdy?

“Uhhh, what’s mine again?”

Zoey snickered “Wormy”

“Why in the hell am I called that?” Bill sputtered

Her explanation caused them both to share a good laugh, until another sudden drop in altitude caused Bill to be spilled out of the Black Hawk.

Only by having Zoey’s fingernails deeply rooted into his ankles, to the point of where they began to bleed freely, was she able to save him from being ripped away by the jet stream, a deafening roar that caused both their ears to ache and throb.

Bill glanced down as he was slowly being pulled back, feet first into the troop bay, what he saw made him blanch. Dangling out of the chopper his face was a mere twelve feet above the water, he could actually clearly see the underwater creatures swimming under him as was racing over the waves.

As Zoey began to pull him back she swore she had heard something on the intercom.

Louis’s static filled voice blurted out from the one closest to her ears. There were flashes coming towards them from an island nearby, Francis quickly interrupted Louis, calling them signals, but a few bullets began to crack their windshield and he hastily withdrew his response, the chopper began to lower in altitude, accompanied by the standard sudden sharp drop in altitude.

“Gunfire?” Other survivors wouldn’t intentionally shoot down a falsely presumed evacuation chopper, maybe they had no other way to signal, the result being that they were unknowingly hitting them. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a hoarse voice on the wind, it was Bill’s.

He was waving his arms frantically he was screaming something incoherent. She heard a repeating phrase.

“Hold. On. Tight. Hold. On. Tight.” Bill kept speaking them over and over again, until it became his personal mantra for the current situation.

Her face turning into a deep grimace, she had him halfway in, until a bullet spanked off the hull near her head, clipping her helmet and causing her to lose her to lean dangerously far out of the hawk, she tried in vain to pull back inside.

Both were violently ejected from the chopper, being pulled down towards an increasingly rising ocean, Zoey saw the chopper heading towards the island. It was on fire.

Francis roughly keyed his mike.

“Everyone hold on tight, Zoey unlock the guns, Bill get those-” another bullet ricocheted off the already bloodied canopy.

Francis gritted his teeth “Repeat, prep the trauma kit, Louis and I are hit.”

Red dye began to swarm over Francis’s vision as a steady stream of blood was produced by a newly received cut during the last altitude drop. Louis hadn’t been so lucky. The water was soon turning into sandy beaches as they quickly began approaching the island compound. Francis eyed his target. Another bullet pierced the cockpit.

Scurrying figures below snapped their heads up as the helo moaned like a wounded animal as it pitched sharply to one side, beginning to spin as it tumbled down towards the ground of the complex below, many on the ground mistakenly viewed it as an out of control crash, the only difference was that Francis was aiming for something.

Louis had a front row seat as the helo smashed hard onto the ground, carving a wobbly line out of the overgrown grass until their helo’s underbelly was nearly sheered off by the brutal force of the impact, Louis blacked out.

Dragging ashore an unconscious Zoey, Bill looked up as the sound of metal grinding at unnatural angles assaulted his ears. His heart fell, he knew that the odds of surviving a crash in a helicopter were frighteningly low, recalling his own memories back in Vietnam.

The Huey he was a passenger on was being heavily peppered with enemy ground fire, one of the bullets had pierced the un-helmeted head of a fellow Beret beside him, drenching the interior in unfortunate man’s brain matter and gore, everyone exploded into confusing chaos, everyone was panicking, Corporal Deadwood’s voice hurt from screaming in terror as more bullets entered the brutally exposed troops.

The pilot’s were followed everything by the book as they rapidly descended towards the forest floor below. Out of a combined crew and passenger list of fourteen, only five survived. Hearing voices emitting from the cockpit Corporal Deadwood rushed into what was left of the blood filled cockpit.

A bloody stump was all that remained of the pilot, missing everything above his waistline, Deadwood had to avert his gaze. The other pilot was better off, if the state he was in could somehow be spun as good thing.

He was panting heavily, blood bubbling on the edges of his lips, caused from a punctured lung. The speed of the crash caused the front canopy, meant to shield the pilots to fail, shattering into a thousand tiny barbs that pierced all around the co-pilot’s body, from a distance it would seem that he had sewn diamonds into his own flesh.

With their medic somewhere strewn amongst the various body parts and the sound of increasing gunfire, creeping towards their downed chopper, Deadwood had to spare the young man from the expected torture and death he would receive if he were to be captured alive. Deadwood spared him that fate, he turned around and threw up.

As he and the rest of the surviving crew of Huey K-713BA, Deadwood had done something that no one else had seen, an act that would have gotten him thrown in the brig or worse; he exchanged his dog tags with a co-pilot, named Bill.

Louis began to stir. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he tried again to lift himself out of his seat, but again his legs refused to respond, despite his urgent attention to leave the wreckage. He couldn’t ask Francis for help, because Francis was missing from his seat, only pools of blood were all that remained of his partner’s position. Louis knew Francis’s death wasn’t his fault, but he still felt a pang of guilt for the loss of such a friend.

But he was not allowed to dwell on this thought for long, since he could make out quickly approaching figures in the swirling smoke ahead, figures which began to cautiously approach the downed chopper. Did they know he was alive? Louis reached for his gun which was no more than a few inches away from him, he needed to lean foreword by the tiniest margin, but his legs refused to budge. Grunting, Louis shook the control panel in front of him, causing the gun to fall, to his horror it fell away from him causing a resounding smack on the metal at his feet.

Heads snapped in his direction, one of the figures began to take aim with their rifle. He opened fire.