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A Lost Soldier's Journals.

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This is day 4.

The last survivor of my unit. I am somehow happy and at the same time not. Lucky enough to be alive and not eaten. But I still miss my comrades.
I wish not all of them died. I wish no one did, to be honest. It still haunts me. I still remember some of their last moments before turning
into food for some rabid corpses. I feel deep hatred for those things, but at the same time I wonder...they did not wish to be what they are now.
At least I do not want to turn out like that. Better just stay dead. I have killed a lot of them for the past few days. Ammunition is not a problem.
I never run out. The streets to do not run out of infected either. How much must I put down, I do not know. Clean water is easy to find, but hunger
persists. Had to go south and find some. I also found other people, trying to survive just like me. I am surprised by the different nationalities.
Everyone has a story. At least they were not hostile. We shared food and ammunition, told a tale. Good moments in dark times. They reminded me
of the soldiers I was with. I should not let nostalgia keep me from moving forward. They are dead now and nothing more. I must focus on not ending
like them. I need to contact the military and let them know what happened. Radios do not reach out that far, but maybe the broadcasting tower
I found recently might do the job. 

This is day 5.

Food does not seem to be a problem anymore. But even if it was it would be one of the smaller ones. The information I gathered from local civillians
was plentiful. Apparently the CDF have no control over this part of Chernarus. Hundreds of survivors are located. I learned of a local nationalist
militia. Terrorists in my opinion. If they learn that I am a soldier..russian on top of that. I do not like lying, but pretending I was a soldier from the CDF might not get me
shot by them. I do not know if they support the government or not. I should learn more of them and at the same time try to avoid them as best as possible.
Most civilians are armed. Old used Mosin Nagant rifles and pistols. Groups of survivors seem augmented with military equipment. Well orginzed too.
Scavenged assault rifles perhaps from western units stationed for support. Luckily not many people seem to have those. I have removed some of my
military clothes for civillian ones. I have to blend in and trust no one. Running low on cigarettes. I better head out and find some before it gets dark.


Edited by Shazzzam
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This is day 6.

I seem to meet new people with each day. I wonder how many survivors are there in this area. I doubt I have met everyone yet. At least not those
nationalists. I hope I do not meet them. But hope does not provide any help, only comfort for the weary and broken alike. I am not one of them.
Some handymen seem to have gathered in a town called Vybor. Everyone mistakes the pronunciation of the name. It is to be said Vubor. It get's on
my nevers each time I hear it, but it can not be helped. I better get used to it. As for the men, they seem to be hired by someone to fix a rooftop
of a building. Englishmen, placing tiles on top of an irrelevant building. Perhaps the structure can provide a temporary sanctuary. A permanent
safehouse from the dead - no. I stumbled upon a fellow with a damaged voice. He told me he was a former safety inspector. One more from the 
construction branch I suppose, but definitely not with those people that were working on the building. He seemed irritated by them, as I was.
Carrying a toy bear with him. Brought him comfort. I do not judge. Similar to me with my Kalashnikov. He jumps at every sound of a gun, no matter
how far it was. His mind seems damaged as much as his voice. But he was a good person to walk with, even if it was brief. Disliked firearms, carries
only a pistol. Afraid to use. Not hostile and poorly armed, he is not dangerous. He showed me a green house supposedly staffed by two doctors.
I wished to meet them, but they were absent. Other people I met there, seeking the same individuals as I. A girl, with two mercenaries. Well armed.
Good gun expertise, but slow reactions. Willing to offer protection for a price in ammunition mostly. One seemed agitated when I killed an infected
ahead of him. Walked away without further hostilities. Do not want to bring danger to the toy person. The girl. She was too noisy. Did not want to
tell her name to any of us. Told us to call her boss. She was not my boss, neither to do the toy fellow. Either bad manners or she is hiding something.
I would bet on the latter. Told us people mistook her for someone else with a bad reputation. Bad enough to get her into serious trouble. I do not seek
any. She seemed a bit crazy too. Builders doing construction work in a town full of walking corpses... An elderly man with a toy he has named...
I wonder if my mental state will be similar to theirs if I spend more time in this place. It definitely won't...I hope. 

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