Left 4 Dead Fan Fiction
The Forgotten Survivors
by TheDark12
Chapter Seven - ... Killed The Radio Star
The evening was as silent as death itself. Olsen Wilcox glared into the broken mirror, admiring his blood smeared reflection. He barely recognized himself anymore. His skin was pale white and his eyes were veiny and red, a product of staying awake for the last ninety one hours.
The restroom surrounding him was crystal clean, making him appear even dirtier. The white walls and blue tiles starkly contrasted his dark dirty black and red appearance. He needed a shower, but knew that it was a bad idea. They could still be around.
He held his hands in some running water and drew them across his face, smudging a black mark across his cheek but rinsing away the majority of the blood. In the background, music was playing over the building's 'PA' or 'public address' system.
"Part your lips a bit more, I'll swallow your fear," He mouthed along with the song. "All the bite marks impress a need to be here,"
Running his wet hand through thick brown hair he swallowed. This was the last song on his mix, it was time to get back to the radio.
Olsen Wilcox was the janitor, now recently promoted to a radio announcer; the only one left in the world for all he knew. He had no idea why he felt the need to announce the radio. All he knew is that he still had a cupboard of food and some solid locked doors. The radio station's power was self contained, from what he knew it would last at least for another week broadcasting at full strength.
"What does that matter anyway Geoff?" he said to the corpse sitting propped in the corner. "I'll be dead by then."
Geoffrey Anderson the ex-host of the '4LQ Morning Radio Show' leaned lifelessly against the only messy wall in the entire restroom. A cone shaped blood splatter had dried to the wall where Geoffrey had shot himself. The Beretta 92 still hung limply in his hand.
Olsen had worked at the station as a janitor, always hoping for a chance to announce the radio. He had known Geoffrey for three years. Geoff was a kind man, who always took time out of his morning to have a conversation with Olsen. Even though Olsen was only janitor.
Olsen eyed a quote written in black indelible marker on the wall; the only graffiti that had ever touched the radio station on the inside. It was a famous quote by Friedrich Nietzsche; a German philosopher. "Without music, life would be a mistake."
Olsen sighed and spoke more to himself than to his dead friend, "Maybe that's why I do it."
Suddenly the gun went off firing a shot into the room which dug into the floor next to Olsen's foot. Olsen collapsed to the floor in shock, eyes wide. Olsen stared at Geoff for a long moment. Geoffrey's face still showed the same blank expression, no sign of life.
As Olsen sat frozen, his mind began to race. Is he one of them? Is he alive? Are they intelligent? Will he kill me? Is this the end?
After a long heart pounding minute, Olsen's adrenaline finally started to slow down he came to a realization of what had happened. It was an involuntary twitch that had set off the gun. He'd heard of this sort of thing happening quite commonly during his previous janitorial job at a morgue. He shook his head, stood up and walked over to Geoffrey's corpse with a reproachful look on his face.
"Christ Goeff, what the fuck was that? Are you trying to kill me?" Geoffrey's eyes still stared blankly in the opposite direction, his mouth hung open where the gun had been. "Shut the hell up man, I don't want to hear it." Olsen said, snatching the gun off his old friend's corpse, cocking the safety then stalking out.
* * *
Olsen returned to the radio desk in time for the last few seconds of the song. He keyed his microphone and started speaking in his untrained but much practiced radio voice. "That was A.F.I. singing 'Kiss and Control', one of my favorites. I hope all of you freaks out there enjoyed that."
Olsen squeezed his eyes closed and cleared his throat. "Well... Okay so here it goes. I don't know if there's anyone alive out there listening, but this is going to be my last broadcast for..." He squeezed the grip of the gun, fighting to hold back tears.
Ten years I worked this bullshit janitors job so I could announce the radio. And now the second I've got it I'm forced to give it up. His voice was about to break, he couldn't help it. "Forever, my last broadcast forever. I've been announcing this radio for the last ninety hours straight and frankly, I don't see much point anymore."
"Now, I'm going to record this next part of the message and leave it repeating for as long as this tower can power itself." Olsen clicked the record and play buttons with his fingers.
"My name is Olsen Wilcox. I am alive and I am holed up at the radio tower on Burkleigh Hill. If you get this message, I'll be waiting. As long as I have food and water, I will be waiting.
"Please, if you have the means, come and find me. I have a gun and... Fourteen bullets. We can help each other. I will be here. Here at Burkleigh Hill radio tower."
A second later, Olsen stopped the recording. He queued the recording to play on repeat and retired to the kitchen, stepping over the corpse of his old boss Hugh, who still had a crowbar hanging from his cracked open head. It had been put there by Geoff; killing his manager was his last real achievement. He always said that he wished he could, Olsen thought with a smirk.
Olsen opened a muesli bar from the cupboard, sat down next to the first floor window with the lights out and stared at the wet, empty road. It had rained within the last hour, apparently. It was bizarre to look at a world that had just - stopped. Cars, belongings, garbage, was all left exactly where it lay. Apart from the wind and the rain, everything outside this window, down to an abandoned handbag, had stayed exactly the same.
Olsen finished his muesli bar and rested his head on the table. Before he realized that he was relaxing, he was already fast asleep.
