People's stories usually begin after someone asks of its origin. Some people have straight answers, and some people like myself... Who have reasons of being here.
My story is a bit of a drag. So forgive me if you find it difficult to understand or follow.
Before the very first day on the island, we were a journalism group trying to find out what happened to this country. Why it went silent as if all the civilization just vanished. We banded as a small group to go in via the air, specificly through plane. We landed in an airfield not far from a small town which at the time we thought was a good idea to learn from the local towns called "Krasnostav". We got off the plane to find the town was empty, not a single soul in sight. Which kind of gave me the creeps, made me try and be a bit more aware. Our group of 3 thought it would be best to split up and try and find at least someone or something and then head back to the plane. And that's when I heard the gunshots coming from the airfield. I rushed to find what those were whilst trying to remain hidden, but I guess I wasn't as hidden as I thought. I ended up seeing our plane become a one-way ticket as it took off with a group shooting at our pilot, and that's when I took a hit to the head and blacked out.
But all I remember after as I can is waking up to a huge headache in a cold, roughed up bed that was covered in what can only be described as dry blood. I wasn't injured at the time I checked as the sight of it panicked me, and there were no bodies around me leaving me a not a single bit of idea of where this dark red substance came from; which that is what worried me the most at the time. The only thing I find is a roughed up note on top of a hoodie. After clothing myself I wondered where my group was, but knew after what happened I wouldn't know anytime soon. I struggled to read the message that was left for me as the writing looked rushed; I at least managed to read out to myself:
"Trust no one. Stay away from the runners. Stay alive"...
I didn't know what he meant by "runners" until I heard footsteps outside the cabin I was in, I peeked out the window trying to remain hidden and that's when I saw it for the first time. People screaming, but they weren't normal... They had blood dripping from their teeth and greyed skin that made them look... Dead. Just take down a man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then again, thinking of it now, that could have been me.
And after witnessing my first death on this hell, those have been my 3 rules since I awoke from this bloodstained bed.
Even in my times of being driven by fear, when you can't see but you can hear. Adrenaline alongside a locked or closed door keeps me awake through the night. Or even seeing someone stagger along with a firearm or weilding some form of weapon in hand, I kept my distance. Until one night; I was in the woods by my campfire cooking some meat from a deer I managed to hunt, and strange voice asked me if she could sit by the warmth of my fire... I gave a simple nod, no words and I guess that's what got her paranoid. We didn't break eye contact the entire night.
She looked filthy; dirt covered her face, her clothes near enough ruined with tears and mud and what could only be seen as more blood. I was the one to keep my belongings close to me. And I was the first to break eye contact to look at the fire. She screamed and lunged at me weilding nothing but a steak knife, with intent to kill. We broke into fight struggling to fight for our lives. I won't give details of the fight. But I left her there... Screaming... Dying... The life died out like the fire next to her. The "runners" managed to get to her and possibly finished her off. I don't know the extent of what she suffered.
But I left her... With my hands covered in her blood, hearing her screams die out quickly. My days of journalism and looking for what happened here all went out the window, and that was the beginning of my understanding of my first and second rule.
Trust no one. And stay away from the runners...