My name is Chris Landa. Grew up in the countryside outside Speyer. Lived a quiet life, staying out of trouble and generally helping my community with the odd tasks. As I grew older I discovered a liking for rifles and went on the occasional hunt. My best friend, Niclas, went with me all the time and together we became a remarkable team.
Life moved on and so came the time for conscription. We both enlisted with the German forces. Early military life was tough but somewhat got seasoned in with a few joint-exercises with the allied forces. Both Niclas and myself realised we wanted to pursue a career in the military and it was only natural that we would push for our already perfected skills. We applied and transferred to the Gebirgstruppe. Training was again a challenge but with persistence and time we got our assignment to the Gebirgsjäger.
We did another joint-exercise with Norway and soonest when we got Home, we received the news: We will be deploying to Afghanistan. We left the Home Land 2 weeks later that worked towards an endless counter-insurgency struggle, narrowly missing multiple ambushes and IED threats. I have seen things that I will never wish on anyone with the hardest one becoming engaged by an enemy sniper. For two weeks we were in a constant fight of physical endurance and witt with an Afghani sniper. It came to sudden end when my friend was hit in the neck. This was the end for me. I had to get out. I did not know what to do. I got permission to leave on the next flight home and ended with a discharge from the military. From there on I have not been able to commit to strangers, once I got to know them though I turned to the most loyal friend you could ever have.
To skip a few years forward I came home one night from my mechanic job. With part of my military training I learned how to do in field repairs and when I was discharged the only life I could pursue was to work in a shop. It is not a glamorous job, but it is a decent one.
I sat down in front of my TV to relax with a beer after a long day. I skipped through the channels and it was on everywhere. Every news station was on broadcast: A viral attack affecting the mind of innocent people, turning them into monsters and attacking those around them.
A call for aid and assistance was made and I knew what I had to do. I heard a German scientific team was heading over and needed an armed escort. With it being privately funded they needed aid and I realised I could do so with my military history. I had to help others, try and amend the fact that I could not help my friend.
We left Berlin airport and flew in. As we got on the ground it was a nightmare. The fighting I have seen before was nothing like this. Old, young everyone alike. Droning around the camp like someone that has been drugged. The noise was unsettling, and the occasional gunshot sent them into a frenzy. But we had to keep the perimeter fence clean.
We moved out in convoy with little 4x4s week after week, it kept on like this till the fatal day we moved into the wrong town. Mission tasking for the day was Zelenogorsk. Everything seemed quiet. Suddenly, out of nowhere we saw a lone survivor with a shotgun running for his life, a zombie close behind him. Out of desperation he turns around and fires two shots, both missing. He stumbles and trips backwards and that was the last of him.
Moments later we found ourselves in the middle of hell. We did not have enough ammunitions to defend against such a large horde. We had to escape. My team started falling behind one by one. Again, I could not do much, it was every man for himself. I decided to not look back and run while I could. Most of us were injured or dead already. I ran West, I had no idea where I was going but I saw forest land and it was quiet.
I am safe, but for how long?