Ime mi...*coughs* My name is Kristjan Jones. I'm 23 years old. I am son to an American father and a Slovenian mother, but she passed away at labour. During this outbreak, I've been living in the forests mostly...I feel like they're safer than the towns...
I can remember it wasn't always like this...when I was still a child....what's the word...uhmm....child...hood. I went to school, played with friends, played video games and went on hunting and camping trips with my dad and dog, those were his apology for not having much time to hang out with me. Since my dad worked an office job, the only useful thing I learned from him is how to shoot a rifle. He was a great dad an all, but I just wish we could spend more time together, when he was still there *sniffs*.
So...what happened ...you're probably wondering? Well... *takes a breath*
We were visiting my uncle, who lived in Chernarus, somewhere in the west. He was an experienced hunter as well, so he suggested we go on a hunting trip together. We decided to do something we call "jutranja jaga"...that's something like morning hunt in English. The way it works is, you set up camp around a kilometer away from where you want to hunt and camp through the night. You do that so you don't make a lot of noise around the time you hunt, which is early in the next morning.
Everything went as planned...We woke up, geared up and went to the closest field. We each hid in our own bush and waited for the deer to show up. When they did, my uncle was first to take a shot. He took out a deer with a perfect shot and the rest of them ran away. As we approached the kill, I thought I heard a sound from the forest. I said to myself...ahh....veter al pa srne...(translation: either the wind or the deer). And the two asked me whether i heard something or not. Just as I wanted to answer, one of those infected things started running at us. My dad hit it with his gun's stock and it lifelessly fell to the ground. We laughed about it, but we celebrated a bit too early...The shot attracted quite a few of them...A whole horde, which was running towards us fast.
Knowing we were outnumbered, we tried to make a run for it, but just as we wanted to, the zombie we thought was dead, grabbed a hold onto my uncle and bit him in the ankle. By the time we could react, the rest of them arrived, making us unable to save him. We ran as fast as we could. With the zombies right behind us, we decided to go through a river to gain some distance and mask our scent.
I was a little bit behind my dad at the time and I guess he didn't notice me slip on a rock in the water...I fell, hit my head and went unconscious. The river took me downstream where I eventually gained consciousness on the river bank. I was surprised to see the rifle was still tightly secured around my shoulder and I found my backpack a bit further upstream. I called out for my dad, but received no response...That was the last day I saw him...Didn't even have a chance to say goodbye...*sighs* I haven't lost hope yet...Even though it's been a while, I still believe he's out there somewhere...And I won't rest until I find out where he is.