It was June 2017 when my dad said I needed a break from work and took me and my brother on one of his fishing trips on the Green sea. Our boat got hit by a storm and the next thing I remembered I woke up on a beach. Roaming the shoreline I found a village and thirsty as I was, I started knocking on doors, but no one seemed home. Then I heard someone yelling my name and I turned around. It was my dad. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. As I waved at him he started running towards me and kept yelling. I saw that he was holding an axe in his hand. Then I understood what he was yelling. “RUN! … RUN!” I turned around and a man tackled me to the ground. I could barely hold him from eating my face. It was close, but my dad was just in time and hit the man with the axe in the face.
We searched the beach for my brother or other people and went from village to village looting stuff to eat and drink, but always close to the beach. After a few weeks we encountered a group that seemed military. We tried to approach them, because maybe they could help. But we couldn’t be more wrong! We were held hostage, taken to their camp and everything we found was taken from us. Afraid for our lives we complied to everything… But nonetheless.. I will never forget the voice of the man that gave the order to shoot my dad. “Any last words? No? Kill him!” My dad got hit in the chest and fell to the ground. The killer walked toward me, but before he got the order and could pull the trigger they got attacked by others. In the chaos I fled in the forest, but without anything to eat or drink and handcuffed, a bullet would have been a blessing.
Thirsty, hungry and tired I passed out next to a road. When I woke up I was next to a campfire and a man told me there was food and water next to me. I looked around and there was a group around the fire. There was not much to ask about everything going on because the mission they were on was classified, but as I tagged along I learned they were peaceful and only used force when there was no other option left. I found out most of them were German and after they found out I was Dutch their commander Zantos gave me the name “Goldy” because of some movie reference he thought of.
On one of our zombie swipes trough a city I found a map and found out there was an airfield nearby. I told the group that in my pre-Chernarus life I was a pilot and if there was a An-168 or something similar, I could fly it. They agreed to help me and escort me there. When we arrived at the North East Airfield the runway was empty, the hangers were empty, but the radio tower was not.. As shots began to fire I hided in one of the hangers. After a minute it went silent and I realised that I could had helped them, I had a weapon and the zombie killing learned me how to shoot. I slowly went inside the radio tower and as I see the floor covered with my friends and other people I looked up the stairs and see a man standing with his handgun out. It is not possible to see who it is. I aimed upstairs and doubted if I should say something or just shoot. Then I heard it.. that voice.. “Any last words? No?” said the man. Without any hesitation I emptied my mag. I ran upstairs and see Zantos sitting on his knees. He was already wounded and I tried to stitch him up. “Aron, leave me be and go. You can’t safe me.” I told him my name is Goldy as he died in my arms.
Since then I gave up on leaving and I’ve been traveling through Chernarus helping people and hunting bandits. Maybe one day I will find my brother or a new group..