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Server time: 2018-07-17, 05:58 WE ARE RECRUITING

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Testing my back story. looking for feedback.

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“What’s your name son?”

Fredrick Zanetti… most people just call me Freddy.

“What’s your story?”

What do you want to know exactly?


Where should I start?

“Before the outbreak. Before all… This.”

I got all wrapped up in this back in the states. I was nobody; I mean, I had a wife and kid, but I thought that just wasn’t for me at the time. After that, I was… a drifter; not much more than your average drunk. I went where ever the free beer was. I’d pick up a job here or there, nothing ever very permanent. It would normally involve some form of manual labor, you know, packing trucks, framin’ houses, moving stuff around in warehouses, sometimes I might find work as an orderly in a local hospital or clinic; and I’d keep whatever job I had until I felt the call. The call to run, find somewhere new. Havin’ grown up in texas I could hunt and fish, and knew how to live with nothin. If I found a tarp to make a tent under a bridge, well that was a good night. A night to celebrate with a 40 I lifted from the supermarket. The last time I heard that call I ended up in Washington, DC. And that’s when everything changed for me.

I was walking around town with a 40 I had bought with a few dollars I stole from this guy who left his door open in the gas station parking lot, when I saw a paper add For the Red Cross Looking for people to help out with the Ebola relief. I had always wanted to go travel the world, I figured this might be my open door to get out there. Maybe find a place worth staying for out there. I walked up, signed some paper work, and next thing you know, I was on a plane to Switzerland where the international Red Cross HQ was. From there me and some others were getting ready to board a plane to Africa when we were stopped and told the outbreak in some place called Chernarus was getting worse, and thanks to some BBC reporter the redcross was shifting all support there for the time being. Everyone on the plane was told we were going there, and to sit tight. I took that extra time to find some booze and set myself up for the flight. I never thought that would be the last time I saw a city full of living, breathing people. Had I known, I would have stopped and enjoyed it. Maybe tried to live a few days without the bottle, maybe even go try to find my ex-wife and daughter, and give it another go. I miss my daughters smile. I miss the way she looked at me when I would hold her. Funny thing to believe I abandoned her. I never thought I would say that, I never thought I would regret leaving my family, or being drunk half my life.

A few days later there we were, loading trucks in Russia getting ready to make the trip over the mountains and in South Zagoria. No one there knew what was there. We had all heard the news broadcasts, and seen the reporting footage, but had written it off as exaggeration to get this place in the headlines. These were people after all, just normal people, getting sick, and then rioting because they were scared. We all thought we would get there, help people, get them calm, and things would slowly go back to normal there. In a line of four trucks we left Russia over the mountains, and down to the coast, I had made sure to stock up on the local brew and got strait to drinking. We had been told to avoid the cities as to not incite panic, and head to the towns lower on the southwest coast. We were sent to Komarovo, God as my witness I never plan to go back there. That’s when we saw it. The “riots” we had heard so much about.

As the trucks got closer and tried to push through the two trucks behind me were swarmed, just as mine was pushed over onto its side. I was against the ground and watched as the driver of the truck was pulled out through his window, and devoured by those goddamn things before my eyes. I managed get out though the back of the truck, and I ran to the fourth truck in the line which was currently turning around. I yelled and begged for them to wait, but they drove off without me. I was left to die. I knew in that moment I was done for. But I wasn’t being dragged down and torn apart. Maybe it was a cruel joke from God for all the things I’ve done in the past, but the infected were focused on the trucks. I had my window and I took it, running into the closest house and barricading the door. I moved everything I could in front of windows and doors and I vowed then and there that I would never fully trust another human being again. I looked through the cabinets and found it. A bottle of liquor with my name on it. I threw some wood in the stove and settled down in the corner and drank until I passed out, hoping that I would wake up and it would all be a dream.

I woke up the next morning to gun fire. Head throbbing I heard beating on the doors. I heard a mix of Russian and English chatter, I guess they assumed I was the original resident of the house. I moved a dresser and opened the door only to be thrown on the ground and searched. They were looking for something. Something I had on me? No. they were looking for bites. Once they found I was clean a UN officer spoke up. “We’re going to take you back to camp. It’s on an airfield to the north of here, just stay quiet, and we’ll see about getting you over to the east coast. We’ve heard it’s still safe there.” They put me in the back of the v3s and headed back to their camp. I wasn’t there long before the camp fell. I was the only one as far as I know to make it out. After that I headed to the east coast, and that’s when I ran into your group.

“hows the drinking? Under control?”

I haven’t had a drink since the night the camp fell.

“Ok. Wait here, I have to talk to the others.”

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