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Pixyl

Then I Ran.

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Pixyl    0

Each nightmare is more vivid than the last. Lost memories that I once believed to have faded claw themselves into my consciousness and tear my mind apart. Why am I still alive? The latest nightmare was the worse so far. They were there. My family, the ones I left behind. My daughter’s eyes are imprinted into my memory, like a brand burned into my skin. Large and brown and beautiful. Those are the eyes I had to leave behind when I came to Chernarus.

I entered Chernarus 3 weeks prior to the first quarantine. Plunged into the unknown through a work placement, I had to learn the language in order to even do my job. Without friends, without my family I had nothing, apart from a shitty apartment with a shit stained toilet, which cost me damn near half of my salary each month.

I first knew something was amiss when I was watching the news. I was sat there, frantically skipping pages in my ‘Guide to Chernarus’ handbook, each page riddled with notes in an attempt to learn this elusive language. I heard gunfire outside my weather-stained window; the sound reverberated through the street, like an echo filling an empty cave. I moved toward the window in a state of panic, each breath adding a new layer of condensation onto the glass. Even through the clouded glass I could see flashes of orange, yellow and red. The occasional scream filled the air followed by a burst of gunfire, and then I heard a scream so horrific my entire body tensed up and the book in my hand fell to the floor.

I turned to the TV; words like ‘Emergency’, ‘quarantine’ and ‘Gunfire’ seemed to burn into my retina. Then one word stuck in my mind, no other words mattered.

‘Virus’.

Three days passed with no change, sirens seemed to fill the air constantly, and cars were trying to escape a jungle of concrete and blood. Those were three of the longest days in my entire life so far, memories jumped into my mind like muggers in the darkness, robbing me of all sanity. My doors were locked, the curtains drawn to block the windows and the fridge was empty. The last of my food was digesting somewhere in my body, old canned peaches that I found at the back in the cupboard. The juice flowed through the crevices of my skin, staining my newly grown beard. The taste was so sweet that my tired eyes watered, I had been eating rice for what seemed like forever.

I had previously filled the bathtub to the brim with water; I knew I was going to need it later. I once read somewhere that a person could survive a few weeks without food, but not even three days without water. One night whilst I was reading an old withered book named ‘The History of Elektrozavodsk’ the power went off completely, darkness seeped into each room and left me blind. I pulled out my phone and used the screen as light source. The light illuminated the mirror in the corner of the living room, I stopped and took a long glance at my gaunt, tired face- it was like exchanging stares with an old statue… and then I hit the mirror. Fragments of glass exploded from the mirror and covered the floor, blood trickled down my hand. I fell to the floor and wept. I needed my family.

The next day I decided I couldn't stay at my apartment anymore, with little food and no power I was certain that I would waste away soon. So I set off collecting all the clothes, food and supplies I had left. I spent most of the day bottling the water in the bath; I only managed to use half of the water before I ran out of bottles. I left the rest of the water in the bath; maybe someone would find this place and need it. I only had limited space in my backpack, meaning it was difficult to decide which supplies I needed the most. I ended up taking the essentials, 5 bottles of bath water, a torn packet of rice, a bottle of aspirin and a wind-up torch.

I took tools that I thought I might need, an old Swiss Army Knife, 3 Phillips-head screwdrivers and a single roll of tape labelled ‘Lepkavý’. I cut myself on the knife, a deep gash torn into my skin in the centre on my palm; I was trying to pry one of the rusted blades off the knife. I cut into one of my old shirts in order to make a bandage, when I was done I wrapped into around the wound. The blood spread through the white cloth and my hand began to ache. My bag seemed impossibly heavy when I slung into onto my back. I strapped a metal baseball bat onto the side of my bag with some shoe laces, if what I heard on the streets was actually happening; I was going to need this.

I took the only picture of my daughter that I had left and placed it into a pocket near my chest. Another scream outside seemed to burst through the window; it was definitely time to leave. Screams of terror were more frequent each night, they kept me awake sobbing, frustrated that I could not sleep. I shared no mercy for those outside anymore; some of the things I heard broke my heart and left me feeling sick. I heard a man and a woman screaming at each other, they were arguing over a can of bacon. As I peeked out through the curtain, a burst of gunfire filled the air, and a sudden spray of red masked my window. The next day the stench of death lingered in the air, when the blood had subsided from the window, I saw that the man’s body had been viciously torn apart, his entrails lay at the side of his decaying body, like pale snakes attached by a thread.

I turned the key; the rusted lock seemed to scream with resistance, I hope no one heard that. I turned and took a glance at my apartment, shards of glass, bits of food and blood stains were all that was left. Oh, and a bath tub filled with water. I stepped out of the door; a wave of shock hit me. The stairs to the outside were covered in blood; the street was littered with pale-white bodies, each one slowly rotting, the Earth claiming their bodies. I slipped my hand into my pocket to ensure the knife was there, I pulled it out and carved ‘water inside’ onto the door leading into my apartment. I zipped up my jacket and tightened the straps on my backpack.

And then I ran.

__________________

Hey guys, if you liked it, could you possibly give me some feedback? I really enjoyed writing about DayZ and hope to add to this some more, perhaps with some encounters that I experience on the server, thanks for reading.

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Major    405

Great story man hope we bump into each other!

Dude, you don't need to quote a whole passage like that. Just make a new reply and don't quote stuff that big. ;)

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