Let's set the mood. To start, fire up iTunes and put on In the House-In A Heartbeat by John Murphy. Go for it. I'll wait...
You got it rolling? Great. Now imagine you're on the roof of an abandoned hotel somewhere outside Atlanta. You're with three people you just met and each of you is carrying a 9mm pistol. You look over the side of the roof and you see a crash of people below. From this distance, the group resembles a mosh pit, or a throng of shoppers waiting for the doors to open on Black Friday. Some sway back and forth as if entranced by some music that sits beyond the range of human sensitivity. Some look around expectantly, as if they are on the lookout for the 16 year old checkout girl to come unlock the gate. But all are silent. If you were to descend towards the group, the first thing you would notice is the smell. It is the smell of raw beef left to spoil. It is the smell of acid soaked fish congealing in the summer sun. It is like a physical blow to your head, and were your eyes not filled with tears you could see that these are not people at all. The ones that still have most of their skin are the color of bleached blue jeans, and their hands open and close, open and close, open and close.
Your next step makes the stair creak and 100 heads turn in unison. One of them opens its mouth and like birds in flight the group turns and launches towards you.
I just finished the final campaign in Left4Dead 2. I like to play the whole game offline with computer controlled teammates before jumping online so I'm a little better at not getting my team killed. The final chapter of the final campaign is a bridge. You have to fight your way across the bridge and into a rescue helicopter. There is no single moment of respite during the entire chapter. You run and you shoot and you keep moving or you die. On the second try I was 50 feet from the chopper when I was taken down by a dozen infected. The hardest part about playing with computer teammates is that they always let you take the lead. You're always the one in front and therefore the one who takes most of the damage from the special infected...like this guy:
So on the fourth try I am getting frustrated. We work our way past the halfway point and the zombies come like grains of rice being poured from a measuring cup. They slide around cars, crawl over the skeletons of 16 wheelers and station wagons. They are uncountable and relentless and I lead the way. Firing, reloading, pushing, punching, struggling for each foot of forward progression. And then I hear it, the sound of helicopter blades. I pull out my adrenaline pen and jam it into my thigh. I sprint, pushing past the mob of infected, killing many, avoiding many more, until I stand before the chopper. I turn around and I am alone. Rochelle is dead. Coach is on the ground yelling for help and Nick, with only a sliver of health, is fighting his way back to Coach. I put in a new clip and take a step forward, and then Nick goes down. Coach and Nick are still alive, incapacitated, but alive. The infected are pummeling them with fists and feet, elbows and knees. I can hear their cries. I hesitate.
I turn and step into the chopper.
As it takes off, I can see the infected below, like spiders crawling from a freshly hatched eggsac. I wonder if there will ever be a day when I don't see this in my dreams.
