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Lost and Alone

Guest Gibbon

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[align=left]Saturday...Sunday? Twentieth of...March? 201..5?6? Fuck it. Day One.


I don't even know anymore. I dont know the date. I dont know where I am. I dont even know this fucking language everyone seems to be speaking. Fucking Slavic people, cant understand half the words they say, granted they can even speak English to begin with.

I dont know why im even writing this. Whats the point? Who is going to read it? Its not like im going to become famous after my death. Become the next Anne Frank, the next Samuel Pepys. The great diary that survived the apocalypse. Telling the brutal and unimaginable story. No.

This is not for anyone else, because there is no one else. My generation will be the last. They need to be the last. No one else can be raised into this horrific and broken world. This is for me. This is to keep me sane. Writing this lets me think. It makes me feel as if im talking to someone else, because there is no one left to talk to. I've not had a real conversation in months, maybe a couple years. I just dont know any more, I have lost track of time.

The last conversation I had was at the end of a barrel, the barrel of a gun. Didn't involve much. They took all from me that I owned, but they left the one thing of value to me. My life. But I question whether or not that is even of value now. What is even worth living for? Nothing. But fuck it, I dont even have the courage to end it. Im so broken, but I cant discard myself. I just hope someone, something will fix me. Fix this place. Fix this fucked up world.

How did it even get like this? I was happy, we were happy. We were safe. Sure, people were no longer themselves, society had collapsed, but I was with my brother, my friends. We were happy and could survive together. Until the others came. A plane they said. Safety they said. A new society they promised. Well, where is your fucking society? Its not in this fucking shit stain of a country. Fucking liars.


I guess I should start to from the beginning. Reminisce, remember the past. The good times...and the bad. 

I was always bitter about our move. I didn't want to move here, I was happy in England. But family stays together. Family comes first and if thats what was wanted, thats what I would do. See, I worked in intelligence for the army, got myself a cushy job analysing photographs taken by satellites and drones for potential targets. I wasn't in any danger, I sat in an office room, gathered my intel and passed it on. Easy. Safe. Effortless. My wife of 6 years was a teacher, again a safe and comfortable job. But over the years she become very close to my family, well...she was my family now. So we couldn't leave them, we had to go with them, even if it was just for a few months, maybe a year.


See, my brother was also in the military and was on leave for 6 months, so he was going to stay with my parents for that time. Problem is, dad had just been offered a job in a company that works with crude oil, and he took it. A big fucking salary. 120 fucking thousand a year. I couldn't even dream of earning that much.  All good and well? No. The job was in Russia. Who the fuck wants to go to Russia? My dad apparently. They were all on board, even my wife. So that's what we did, we moved to Russia, even if it was just going to be for 6 months. We still did it.

Well, we fucking shouldn't have. What a silly fucking mistake this was.  

I mean, at first it was okay. And if by okay, I mean no one speaks fucking English, but its heaven compared to now. That virus, that life destroying fucking virus ruined everything. Any hope of having kids, gone. Any hope of enjoying life again, gone. Any hope of living until old age, gone. Fuck. It makes me angry even thinking about it. I need a break from this.


Day One - The Beginning

Day Two - Realisation

Day Three - The Kill

Day Four - Broken

Day Five - Capture

Day Six - Baptism

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  • Sapphire

You had me in stiches with the first line.

Saturday...Sunday? Twentieth of...March? 201..5?6? Fuck it. Day One.

I thank you sir.

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  • Sapphire

I love how you tell the story! Very good read :)

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  • Sapphire

I genuinely enjoyed reading through this, nice job :D

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Day two

So, where was I.

Life in Russia was for a time, like a holiday, but it grew stale and dull very quickly. But not to worry, that virus sure brought something new into my life, ridding it of anything and everything old. And I mean everything. Not at first, But slowly, over time, it took all that was precious to me. All that I valued. Now I have nothing. I am nothing.

[align=left]We were living in Moscow at first. I must say, as much as I dislike these people, they did have a beautiful city. The architecture was astounding, I had never seen something so beautiful before. I must have spend the first week taking photographs. But that soon ended, just like all things.



As news broke from that shit whole Chernarus, that their silly fucking government had essentially created a breeding ground for the virus and had lost control, people started to realise that this virus was a problem. At first people compared it to Ebola, but on the news they said it had a 100% infection rate. It soon got out of control, spread into Russia and other countries. My parents had the money to take themselves to 'safety', they bought into some bunker scheme and that was the last I saw of them. Selfish cunts. "We dont have enough money for us all James. Your brother will look after you". Fuck the family right? Like I even wanted to be in this place to begin with.

[align=left]At first we stayed in the city, the virus was barely affecting it, but there was mass panic. Riots broke out and looting started. Our 'home' got broken into, things got messy and my wife ended up dead. So did the one who broke in, but it took him a couple days to die after me and my brother had finished with him. Not to worry though, there clearly was no law enforcement to deal with our actions, nor his for that matter.

[align=left]After my wifes death, me and my brother stayed in the city for a while, but after a couple of weeks the infection had spread throughout the city. The population was simply too large. Try 12 million people, most of whom gone violent, or mindless beasts attacking anything in sight. This virus was bad, it fucked you up. You didnt just get sick, you changed. You become not someone else, but something else. You were no longer a human. You became a monster. We just didnt feel safe. We needed to move.

[align=left]That is when my brother and I decided it was time to leave, he got in contact with two of his buddies from the military and we gathered all the equipment we would need and headed out to a small village in the middle of nowhere. 



This was the last picture I took with my brother. Thats me on the far left and my brother next to me. As you can tell, I wasnt too happy, but my brother and his friends seemed to take pleasure in our new 'life'. I guess it reminded them of being in Iraq or something. He never seemed to have left that place mentally, it screwed him up.

[align=left]We were content for months, hunting for food. Local rivers and lakes for water. We were safe. Happy. Together.

[align=left]That was until those people came. They spoke of an island free from the infection. Food. Society. Law. Power. They could have been telling the truth for all I know. I doesn't matter now. To get to this place we needed to go to an airfield a couple hundred miles away. They said they owned a place, called it a Cessna or something. They invited us to come with them, said they had room for more.

[align=left]Sound good, right? Well, I didnt care. Sounded like a trick or some shit to me. I didnt even feel the need to join a new society. I was happy where I was. At least we were together. At least I had someone. Why risk it?

[align=left]But the others, although hesitant at first, were taken by the idea. They were happy to chase some island which might not even be safe. Their new dream was based purely on rumours. After all, if it was safe, who in their right mind would leave it to advertise to other people. Thats a good way to get killed. I couldn't convince them to stay. So I had to go with them. Family stays together. Yeah, right. Just like my parents. Just like my wife.

[align=left]Well, we eventually made it to the airfield. Those people were actually telling the truth. They actually had a plane and could fly it. Fuck it I thought. I was there, might as well take my chances and go for it. Its not like we could have gone back to how it was before. 

[align=left]What a mistake that was.

[align=left]After a couple hours of flying the planes engine started to have problems and kept cutting out. We were going to crash. We couldnt get a clear place to land. So my brother took a parachute, strapped it to my back and told me to jump. Said I must be the first out, he needs to see me safe. Said he would follow after. He didnt follow me. I dont know if he didnt have time or there wasnt enough parachutes. But something stopped him and I had to watch their plane plummet to the ground, becoming engulfed in flames. 



Once I landed, I just sat there and watched the fire burn out. I wanted to check if he was alive, if anyone was alive. There wasnt. They were all dead. Once I came to terms with it, I managed to salvage some of the equipment left, including a gun and some ammunition. Then I went back to sitting there, not quite knowing  what to do.

[align=left]At this point I realised, I was fucked. I had no idea where I was. We couldn't have gone too far from Russia, I still could even be in it for all I knew. I dint know what the language was, but even if I did, I couldnt speak it. But I knew one thing. I was alone. Family stays together. But I had no family.

I was lost and alone.

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Day Three

I dont want to remember anymore. No more from the past for now. It hurts too much. Even though the present is almost as bad, it is still that little better to talk about than my past. 

Today was my first kill. The first life I took all on my own, there had been the man me and my brother killed, but today was the first I did all on my own. No excuses for this one, it was all me. Im not proud. Not even sure why I did it. But I did.

I spent the day in some small town looking for anything useful. Didnt find much, a few unopened tinned cans with god knows what inside, as well as some bottled water. Enough to keep me alive for a couple more days. I also found a fuck load of clothes, no use to me, but interesting none the less. I guess it shows how people only take what they need in times of distress, after all, who packs all their clothes when their neighbors are trying to eat you. I also noticed a lot pf people had took their ornaments and valuables. Couldn't tell if the owners took them, or looters had taken them. Either way, bet they feel silly now. No one wants shitty ornaments. Valuables are food, water and ammunition. Everything else is irrelevant.

What am I doing? I'm fucking rambling. I'm essentially talking to myself in this...diary or what ever this is and im too afraid to talk about the kill, so I'm drifting from the subject. Pathetic.

The kill took place in a supermarket, or what ever these slavic fucks would call the building. I didnt even plan on going in it, there was no point. After all, where is the first place you look for food when desperate? The place you buy it from. The supermarket. Well, on my way past I heard screams for help. Now, this isnt the first time I have heard other people, nor will it be the last. But this person was shouting in English and another language, must have been desperate.

intrigued about the noise, I investigated. i entered the shop effortlessly. No locked doors, all the windows smashed. The shop floor didnt even resemble much of a shop any more. It was a fucking mess. Shelves were tipped over, dirt lined the floors. Stuff was just everywhere. But as suspected, nothing of use was in sight. The noise took me to the back rooms of the shop. Thats where I found him.


It was a man. He was trapped in a store room with two of those things outside the door, clawing at it. I didnt even hesitate. I should have. Should have thought about it. Shooting them in the head seems to be the best course of action. Problem is, my aim is abysmal. Took six shots to kill those two, and one almost took a bite out of my arm. Fucking virus. It destroyed who ever those two people were. Just like it destroyed my family. Just like it destroyed me.

After they were dead, the man comes out speaking what I assume is German. I explain i'm English and he switches to my language immediately and starts thanking me profusely. But I wasnt listening to the man. Not even looking at him. My attention was drawn to his bag and gun on the floor. In a split second the thought crossed my mind, I could kill this man and take his gear. But that thought soon ended and I knew it was wrong. Only problem was, it wasnt just a thought. My mind must be deteriorating or something. It was like it was instinct. I just straight up shot the man and walked towards his gear to take it. But I wasnt even aware I was doing it until it was too late. This virus has ruined me. Broke me. I just stood there after, looking at the mans body and the mess I had made. Blood was pouring out of him, rapidly cooling as it spread across the floor. Im a fucking murderer. Scum.

He could have been a friend, someone to talk to. Keep each other safe. He even spoke English. I didnt even take his gear in the end, didnt even look at at. I was disgusted with myself. How could I act like that so instinctively? What did I do? Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?

Am I destined to die alone?

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Day Four

Today was slow. Very slow. Lots of time to think. But I dont want to think. There are only three things to think about. The past, which is full of horrible memories. The present, which is meaningless thoughts of survival. The future, desperate and pathetic thoughts of a better future. Hope. Something. But I know its pointless. Deep down, I know there is no end to the madness that is slowly destroying humanity. There is no future for me. Not a happy one at least. 

After yesterday, at least I think it was yesterday, I lost myself for a while. After I killed that man I just aimlessly wandered. No destination in mind, no plan to stick to. Just wandered. It kept me at peace for some time, allowed me to zone out. Allowed me to forgot. I dare say I was happy. Maybe not happy, but content for a moment.

But that came to an abrupt end, just like everything in my life. Heavy rain started. Really heavy. I needed to find shelter. Only problem was, I had no idea where I was. I had walked deep into a forest. Couldn't tell which which to turn to get back to buildings. So I just sat there in the rain and waited. 


I've been doing this a lot lately, since this all started. Just sitting there, idle. Its as if im waiting for something to happen. Something to change. Maybe to get better. But they wont. They cant. Everything is too broken. Everything is all ready ruined. Its too late to rebuild. Everything must die, then things can start a new.

I found myself thinking about everything again. My parents, how they fucking left me. My wife, my brother, both lost to me forever. My old home, gone. My job, finished. Everything I once knew was gone. Everything I was to know would be unpleasantness, sadness and death. Even if I could be happy for a time again, it would be pointless. The world is too broken, I am too broken. Things need to end. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to end it all.

Gun in hand, barrel under my chin and went to pull the trigger. But I couldnt. I can kill a man in cold blood over a fucking bag. But I couldnt even kill myself. Im a waste of fucking space, useless, in need of disposal. But im too weak, to damaged, to even do it myself. 

And so I find myself here again. 

Pen in hand, paper on my lap and writing about my pathetic life in some attempt to keep me sane.

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  • Emerald

Awesome read! Nice work sir!

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Day Five

As I was attempting to get back to the skeleton of civilisation, I was drawn to an industrial compound by lots of loud noises. The noise. Gunshots. Flashes of light. Screams. Explosions. What is going on down there? 

I sat on a hill in some bushes, overlooking the compound. Someone sat near me, taking heavy fire, but I didn't dare move once I got there in fear of being shot. Oh god, I've never been so scared in my life I don't think. Its strange how one day you see no value in life, but when you stare death in the eye, you are scared and begin to see something worth living for. Maybe its not so much something worth living for, but the fact that the fear of the unknown which death brings makes living more favourable, no matter how bad it is. The idea of nothing after death scares me more and more. 


Each bullet landing nearby came with a deafening crack, making me twitch and shiver every time it happened. I just stayed there, as still as I could given the circumstances. Eventually the man near me was shot. He wasn't killed instantly though, it took him almost two hours to die. And the whole time, I just sat there and listened to him gasping for breath, spitting his own blood up. That gargling noise he made when he was choking on his own blood was disgusting. It sent a shiver down my spine. I could have helped the poor man. But I didn't. I just sat there and waited for it all to end.

It appeared two groups were fighting, not sure why, don't really care. That doesn't matter now. i should have left as soon as I arrived.But curiosity and fear got the best of me. Those two things are sure to end me one day.

One group seemed considerably better armed than the other, making use of high calibre weapons and explosives. It was short fight, over in about an hour. Strangely, it was the under equipped group that won, they seemed more skilled, experienced and cruel. They knew what they were doing. They spent another hour collecting anything of value and taking those who remained alive hostage that could still walk. Thats when they came up the hill where I was. That is how the man met his end near me. Not through the gunshot wound. Not through chocking on his own blood. But a slit throat. The group cut him like an animal at slaughter. Maybe it was kind of them, ending his misery. But they seemed to take pleasure in it.

Thats when they spotted me. Two of them grabbed me and dragged me out. Big fuckers, hardened with muscle. I struggled at first, but all that got me was a smack around the head, which I presume knocked me unconscious. Well it must have, unless they drugged me or something.

I woke up tied to a train carriage in an old warehouse, with yellow fabric band tied around my left arm. There was just enough slack in the restraints to write. I couldn't see anyone, but I could hear others whimpering, crying, begging to be freed. They must have been locked in one of the train carriages. The building must have been used for storing old trains before the outbreak. It was dark and cold inside. The floor was damp and the sun light pierced the holes in the roof. The building had been beaten down by endless seasons of weathering, the walls rusted and falling apart. The wood beams rotten and mouldy. The glass windows, or what remained of them, had greyed with grime after years of neglect. Many of the roof tiles lie among the floor in the weeds and rubbish.


[align=left]Who ever took me and left me here took almost everything from me. I had no weapons. None of my original clothes, as they had replaced mine with some dirty blue overalls. No bag. All I had, was a pen, my diary, one can of beans, a bottle of water that was half empty, and a small sack filled with yellow strips of fabric that had been torn from something, similar to the one around my. It was strange to say the least. Why leave me with my diary? Do they want me to write out my slow death of dehydration and starvation as I slowly shrivel away tied to this train carriage? Who were they? Are they coming back? What is the sack for? Why is this on my arm?

[align=left]I've been here for hours. I can barely...I can barely stay awake. 

[align=left]I need...I need to sleep. 

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Day six

They arrived today. The people who took me captive. Its strange. They were clearly a small group consisting of very skilled individuals, perfectly adapted for survival. But none of them seemed to be from a military background, at least from what I could tell. The way they carried themselves, they just seemed like normal people. There was three men and two women. All carrying what seemed to be their personal choice of weapon, all of them had a gun, but nothing fancy. Which was surprising, since they must have gathered a serious amount of firearms from that group they were fighting. However, one of the women did not seem to carry a gun. She carried a machete stained with blood. This woman caught my eye, she looked around 30, perhaps beautiful at one point, but now she looked rough and hardened. Scary almost.  There didnt seem to be any structure of command, no one in charge. But it must be working somehow.


[align=left]Anyway, when they arrived, the walked into the train warehouse all together in a row. They didn't speak to me, just dropped another tinned can next to me, this time it was spaghetti. As well as taking my water and filling it up to the half way point. Then all went into one of the carriages which I had heard the whimpering from. I began to hear screams, pleading. A woman screaming that she had been here for weeks and wanted to be let go. She wanted them to stop hurting her. The group didn't speak, at least I couldn't hear them. What I did hear was more screams and each member of the group gradually left the room. They must have been taking turns beating her. Why? What have I gotten myself into? Am I next? I cant be. They wouldnt be feeding me just to beat me to death at a later date. No. Surely not. It would be a waste. They wouldnt. Would they? Are people sick enough? Its one thing to kill a man in cold blood, but to aimlessly beat someone you have to connection to, no grudge. 

[align=left]The woman with the machete was the last to leave. The screams stopped just before she left the carriage. Not even a whimper after. Nothing but a deafening silence. The machete was dripping wet with blood as she left. She killed the woman in that carriage, she must have. But why? 

[align=left]I wanted to question everything about what I just saw. But my thoughts on the subject quickly diminished when she came over to me. She cut me loose and dragged me into one of the empty carriages, and one of the others threw in the few belongings which I had left, locking the door and leaving me inside.

[align=left]I again find myself here, lost and alone. This time trapped, but maybe safe for now. With nothing to do but write. Write about my inevitable demise into the unknown. 

[align=left]Those fuckers! Those cruel, horrible people. Not even people. Animals! They are fucking animals. 

[align=left]I wasn't safe, I wasn't alone, I was fucked!

[align=left]They came back into my carriage after a few hours of putting me in there. All of them came in and just stood there staring at me in silence. The woman with the machete was the first to approach me, she came close to me, right up in my ear. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face, the smell strong in my nostrils. She whispered to me, softly and calmly "Welcome to your baptism". She then proceeded to throw punches at my face over and over. Eventually she stopped and just left. The others then had their go, individually beating me into the ground, covering me in my own blood, making me black and blue with bruises. After each one was done, they left and allowed the others that remained to have their turn.

[align=left]Not another word was said, just "Welcome to your baptism". Baptised in what? My own fucking blood. 

[align=left]I've been beaten for the last few days in a row, maybe more. I dont even know. Why do I even bother to write the day at the top of each entry? Its clearly fucking wrong. The concept of time is lost to me. Sadly, the cruel fucks always avoid hurting my hands though, so I can always come back here and write.

[align=left]How long can this go on for? How long can I go on for? 

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