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The Journal of Sheriff Rick Wolff


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RICK WOLFF'S JOURNAL AND WRITINGS

Rick Wolff's Journal and Writings will be updated daily!

Today, today was a day. Woke up in a field, couldn't remember anything but mere flashes. Images. Things I will never forget.

One of the flashes of memory that hits me is the worst. It's her. The ripping of flesh. Her being torn from my arms in Balota, at the quarantine set up by the Military.

And my boy. Oh, my boy. Handsome young man, though he is no longer with us. These are the things I remember.

My brother, John Wolff and I found each other, somehow, he sought me out when I left on vacation. The first few weird stories on the news told him that a storm was brewing. He found me after they died. Right after, their blood still a stain on my mind, and on my clothing.

We headed for the North West Airfield, in hope of military assistance, but to no avail. I was trapped in the air traffic control center, firing shot after shot into the heads of the infected beasts. Then I heard a voice. A kind, Australian voice. I beckoned him to come closer, and we talked, and after a brief encounter with walkers, we regrouped with my brother and talked in the tree line. He revealed that his name was Tobias, but he preferred Aaron. We heard the crackling of out radios, which were quickly losing power, and an emergency broadcast went out. Supplies were at Stary Sobor. We headed for the city.

John went into the woods near Stary for overwatch, and Aaron and I entered the city. We raided the supermarket, scrounging goods, but walkers spilled into the building. We ran, made for the church, only to find it was barricaded off. Walkers filled the streets, and we ran for a nearby orange building, when suddenly I hear, "SNAP" and Aaron falls to the ground, engulfed in walkers. He fired sporatic shots from his AKS while screaming, "RUN, RICK GO!".

I fired all of my pistol magazine into the remaining walkers, and had to back away, leaving the corpse of Aaron to be devoured by the undead.

I think it was my fault. I may blow my brains out tomorrow. Not sure yet.

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Day 2

Wandered into the military tents in Stary Sobor with John. Walkers immediately flooded the area, trapping me in one of the smaller military tents while I was desperately grasping for bloodbags. I fired twelve shots into the horde of walkers, making no dent in their numbers. John sprints over from a nearby barn, spraying sporadically with his rusty M4, killing enough of them that I could leap out of the tent. No doubt my older brother saved my life today. He's all I've got left. Teresa's dead. Rick Jr. is dead. Presumably everyone in the U.S. is dead, if it's even half as bad there as it is here.

After our escapade in Stary, we headed for what seemed like northeast, coming out eventually at a town called Krasnostav. John's leg was ripped open by a rusty piece of metal while we tried to hide from a massive passing group of walkers. I dragged him to a nearby barn, and ran towards headlights I saw near a supermarket. I came out next to an ATV, and the man on the ATV pointed to a halted convoy up the road away from us. I followed on foot, and met some men, they offered to "give me a ride to my brother", which sounded extremely sketchy. Knowing that John's condition was undoubtedly getting worse, I convinced the strange man to head over to John, who was still at the barn, surrounded by sleeping walkers. The man drove over to John, and picked him up, spun around and headed back to the convoy. They told us to enter their Ural, and that we would be given "proper healthcare at another location". John fell out of the back of the Ural, which forced them to give him a blood transfusion on the spot. We then told the men we were going to head off, and got away without firing a shot. Still confused if those men were heroes, or the dreaded bandits. I'll write more tomorrow, I need to try and rest. Though sleep never comes....


Day 3

Today we headed into Chernogorsk. We probably shouldn't have, but we did. It was warm today, apart from the chilling, bloodcurdling noises that arise from the undead as they walk about.

We headed towards the church, near the shore. When we arrived there, we met up with a United States Marine, who had been stationed on Skalisty island with the rest of the 17th Marine Expeditionary Unit. He told us of the heroic Free Medics, and their bravery. He also informed us that the church was a base for the Free Medics. My heart filled with happiness, that the human race was not completely stained forever.

We had heard of the Doragonzu Shogunate, their conquests. I walked up to the supermarket, next to the church, yelling to John over my shoulder "I'll be back in a moment."

As I walked into the supermarket, rummaging through the cans of beans and soda, I heard a voice. An Asian man, presumably the Shogun of the Doraganzu, walked around the corner. He told me I should be more stealthy when looting an area. I yelled for help to John, the soldier looking confused. John came out and told the soldier to drop his weapon and go onto his knees. Immediately the soldier raised his weapon and fired five or six rounds at John, one hitting his torso, while John unloaded on him. The both exchanged rounds as I took cover, firing at the Shogun myself, when John passed out. I saw the body of the Shogun laying there, still not sure if he was dead or alive, but John was. I dragged his corpse up the hill towards Balota airfield. I turned to take one more look, and ANOTHER Doragonzu soldier with a shotgun began firing at me, three of the pellets lodging in my right leg, I limped rapidly, turning the tall, dark grass into a reddish color. I made it back to John, carrying him for a while, and he eventually woke up.

I fear that humanity at it's whole is dead.

I learned one thing today. No one can be trusted. All of the honorable men died at the beginning of this thing.

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Guest Shākya

I heard a voice. An Asian man, presumably the Shogun of the Doraganzu, walked around the corner. He told me I should be more stealthy when looting an area. I yelled for help to John, the soldier looking confused. John came out and told the soldier to drop his weapon and go onto his knees. Immediately the soldier raised his weapon and fired five or six rounds at John, one hitting his torso, while John unloaded on him. The both exchanged rounds as I took cover, firing at the Shogun myself, when John passed out. I saw the body of the Shogun laying there, still not sure if he was dead or alive, but John was. I dragged his corpse up the hill towards Balota airfield. I turned to take one more look, and ANOTHER Doragonzu soldier with a shotgun began firing at me, three of the pellets lodging in my right leg, I limped rapidly, turning the tall, dark grass into a reddish color. I made it back to John, carrying him for a while, and he eventually woke up.

I fear that humanity at it's whole is dead.

I learned one thing today. No one can be trusted. All of the honorable men died at the beginning of this thing.

"Gaijin, I think you fail to understand the concept of honour. I was about to take you to safety like you asked when your half man of a brother thought it'd be a good idea to attempt robbing me. As is our custom, I was obliged by divine and sacred laws to never lay down my weapon for another man - doing so would be an ultimate dishonour. Luckily, the cheap shots you hit me with only grazed my legs - as is fitting for a man so foolish as your brother.

I managed to scramble to Kōtei Shima for treatment after my soldiers had scared you away. If anything, this goes to show us that there is far more barbarians left in the Imperial State of Chernaruso than we had previously thought. From now on I - the Shōgun will not enter area's of known barbarian activity without an escort. So for this wake up call I thank you, but I assure you Rock-Breaker that you shall get no such chance again."

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A lot has happened. I do not have enough time to write the events of the last 24 hours. I will write what I can. I fear the walkers are drawing near, and my legs are in severe pain.

Outside of Chernogorsk, we ran into someone I had not seen in three years. Cameron Wolff. John and I's little brother. He told us how he came to be in Chernarus, which was almost exactly the same as John's reason. He came after me. I brought both of them here indirectly, and if they die, it's my fault...

Aside from this, we ran into some medical technicians from the Free Medic group in Chernogorsk, but there was a strange thing happening. A dead man, lying in the center of the city, single gunshot to his head. We found the man who committed this action, and a lot of needless violence ensued. I can't go into....details.

Cameron, John, and I headed up towards a Trade Post near the small village of Pulkovo. We talked with others for a bit, and Cameron and I decided to leave and head to our camp. We ran out of gas about 800 meters from a gas station. I had Cameron stay in the car, and I made for the gas station. As I was filling the gas cans, I heard footsteps behind me. As I turned, a group of eight walkers attacked, I heard a snap as one ripped into my right leg, and I fired sporadically, killing five of them, and dragging myself into a ditch, dragging a dead body over me to disguise my scent.

I awoke. It had been at least three hours since the attack. I managed to make a splint with a rag and a branch. As I stood, I frantically searched for Cameron, but he was nowhere to be seen. I believe he thinks I am dead. Where do I go from here? Stranded, lost, wounded. God knows.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I am writing here just to write. I have been crawling for hours, trying to make it to our camp. I can hear the sounds of the trade post in the distance, but I do not have the strength to call out of yell for help, much less crawl towards them. I think my time on this cruel earth is drawing near. I'm putting the pencil down now....I feel a long sleep coming on........

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