After high school I joined Naval Special Forces, retiring in 2015, where I came home from the war to start a family. I picked up the trade of software engineer and traded my MK14 for a keyboard. My employer called me one day in 2017, asking me to leave my family for a 6 month contract in a remote Russian Satellite state, Chernarus, , who'd recently been place under martial law. Upon my arrival I knew something was deeply wrong. Within a few weeks the "infected" began to be heard on the radio and in the news.
3 months later civilization has fallen. My team dead or... worse. The only connection I have left here is Antov, a contractor who took me in after infection overran the country. I search desperately for a way out of this god forsaken country to get home to my family in Anchorage.
2 weeks later Antov is dead, murdered by bandits who broke in the middle of the night. The asked us to give them our food and he tried to fight back. The poor man, he tried to pull his pistol and was shot quickly. His dead body sent me back to my days in Iraq, all I could see was blood but I had to keep my cool. I was badly outnumbered and outgunned. They stole all of our food, leaving me to bury Antov.
Now I've picked up the gun again, and have vowed to defend the weak like Antov, and find a way home to my family, a man with clean hands and conscious. I hear the infection has taken hold globally, I only pray Anchorage is spared.