Hello, my name is Nomad I am a friendly, social and collaborative guy, but can be tough when needed. I am a good travel guide to survival. I have a military background and value capable and accurate weapons. Because of my military background, I am specialized in the use of different weapons so make sure that I can defend myself and others when needed. I love to eat fresh meat roasted over a fire. But hate to eat worms," I will eat them when necessary only because they are rich in protein or maybe not. I know caterpillars do.
I will tell you a little about how I ended up in Chernaruz. I was a LCpl. Lance Corporal in the United States Marine Corps (USMC) our Platoon was stationed in South Zagoria, in the northeastern corner of Chernarus. Our official duty was peacekeeping and prevent further civilian casualties in the conflict between the Chernarussian Movement of the Red Star and the Chernarussian Defence Force. Of the record, our platoon performed direct action (DA) operations in politically sensitive provinces, A matter of “state security they called it.
We didn’t know that there was a Great Panic. Because our base was completely isolated. About a month before it began, about the same time as that American news broke the story, our camp was placed on indefinite communication blackout. All the televisions were removed from the barracks, personal radios, and cell phones, too.
Yesterday we had heard about a sickness going around Chernarus that affected the mental state of those infected by it, making them violent and beast-like. Our platoon was placed on full combat alert. Up until then it had been easy duty—lazy, monotonous, and broken only by the occasional mountain stroll. Now we were in those mountains for days at a time in full battle dress and ammo. We were in every village, every house in one of them we found a few old AK 47s and plenty of ammo. We didn’t know who the weapons belonged to; drug runners, or the local gangsters, maybe even those supposed “Reprisal Squads” that was the reason for our deployment in the first place. And what did we do? We left it all.
We didn’t understand. We were confused, angry. We didn’t understand what the hell we were doing out there. The same day we swept a little no-name town, this primitive hamlet at what looked like the edge of the world. We’d executed our standard searches and interrogations. We were just about to pack it in. Suddenly this girl came running down the only road in town. She was crying, obviously terrified. She was chattering. I wish I could have taken the time to learn their language…and pointing across the field. and pointing across the field. There was a tiny figure, a little girl, staggering across the mud toward us. Lieutenant Eliot raised his binoculars and I watched his face lose its color.
The platoon sharpshooter was ordered to raise his weapon and center the girl in his sights. He did. “Do you have her?” “I have her.” “Shoot.” He looked up at the lieutenant and asked him to repeat the order. “You heard me,” he said angrily. I said eliminate the target, now! I could see the tip of his rifle was shaking but suddenly he lowered his weapon and said he wouldn’t do it. Just like that. “No, sir.” The little girl was now close enough so we could see her face. Her eyes were wide, locked on Eliot’s Face. Her arms were raised, and I could just make out this high-pitched, rasping moan. He met her halfway across the field. It was over before most of us realized what had happened. In one smooth motion, Rat Face pulled a pistol from underneath his jacket, shot her right between the eyes.
That night I was lying awake on my bunk in the base, I tried not to think about what had happened. I tried not to think about the fact that the MPs had taken the sharpshooter away, I knew I should have felt bad for the child, angry, even vengeful toward. Lieutenant Eliot, and maybe even a little bit guilty because I didn’t lift a finger to stop it. I knew those were the kinds of emotions I should have been feeling; at that point the only thing I could feel was fear. I kept thinking about what one of the soldiers was saying earlier on, that something bad was going to happen.
I heard a commotion, vehicle engines, voices. A crowd was already assembled on the parade ground. I pushed my way through and saw Johnson standing in the center of the mob. Johnson was the heavy machine gunner from my squad, a big bear of a man.
There was someone crawling at his feet. It looked like an old woman, but there was a burlap
hood over her head and a chain leash wrapped around her neck. Her dress was torn and the skin of her legs had been scraped clean off. There was no blood, just this black pus.
He shouted this I wanted you all to see! Johnson lifted the chain, pulling the old woman up by her throat. He grabbed the hood and ripped it off. Her face was grey, just like the rest of her, her eyes were wide and fierce. She snarled like a wolf and tried to grab Johnson. He wrapped one powerful hand around her throat, holding her at arm’s length. I want you all to see why we are here!” He grabbed the knife from his belt and plunged it into the woman’s heart. I gasped, we all did. It was buried up to the hilt and she continued to squirm and growl. “You see!” he shouted, stabbing her several more times. “You see! This is what they’re not telling us! This is what they have us breaking our backs to find!” You could see heads start to nod, a few grunts of agreement. Johnson continued, “What if these things are everywhere? What if they’re back home, with our families right now!” He was trying to make eye contact with as many of us as possible. He wasn’t paying enough attention to the old woman. His grip loosened, she pulled free and bit him on the hand. Johnson roared. His fist caved in the old woman’s face. She fell to his feet, writhing and gurgling that black goo. He finished the job with his boot. We all heard her skull crack.
All the fear, all the doubt, every tangled, negative emotion all fused into a rage. “We want to go home! We want to go home!” Chanting, chanting, and then…A round cracked past my ear and Johnsons left eye imploded. I don’t remember running or inhaling the tear gas. I don’t remember when the MP commandos appeared, but suddenly they were all around us, beating us down, shackling us together, one of them stepping on my chest so hard I thought I was going to die right then and there.
That’s the time I decided to desert and hide in the forest and I did. I left at night I stayed away from anything even resembling a road and stuck to as pure a wilderness track as I could. I couldn’t avoid all signs of humanity or what could have been humanity a long time ago. There were shoes, clothes, bits of garbage, and tattered suitcases and hiking gear. I saw a lot of bones on the patches of raised mud. I couldn’t tell if they were human or animal. To where? Even if I had some idea still, I didn’t know if I was hunted for my defection. And there was another danger: the immediate
threat of the undead.