Cries of woodland critters and wind rushing through the trees gave life to one really dead night. Dim moonlight reflected off the midnight dew that coated the grass in a cold blanket. Clyde sat in the mess hall of his camp conversing over a chicken wing with a local CDF technician about the generator that's been giving them trouble lately. "Look, you can fiddle with the wiring all night long but we're going to need a more permanent repair if we're going to be of any use around here." Clyde's Russian was spotty at best and his American accent only proved to create more of a distance between him and the other defense forces. But they need me and a job is a job, Clyde tells himself. Clyde McKinley, former Corporal in the United States Army, medically discharged during the war in the Middle East after an explosion left him with irreparable joint damage to his wrists. After years of physical therapy, Clyde became a Private Overseas Contractor, primarily as a combat engineer. What began as glorious dreams of being stationed in Kuwait, Korea, or another hot zone that would pay a fatter contract turned into being stationed in the middle of nowhere in a country he's never heard of with very little knowledge of the language. But his connection, and only other American friend in the camp, helped him settle in nicely. Clyde learned the language, or the basics anyhow, and got along well with the others in the camp. Apart from Clyde always having a natural feeling of not belonging, he was comfortable. "It's the wiring, plus I think one of the fuses is bad. We would need a replacement." The technician replied. The generator was the only thing keeping them warm at night, plus communications have been down for three days, and if a replacement is needed it's needed now. "Keep working on rewiring the system. I'm going to ride up to Echo and see if we have enough in the budget to requisition some electronics." Clyde left the mess tent, signed off on his personal transport, and rode his 4-wheeler along the road heading east towards Berezino. A few minutes after his departure he got onto the main road, he discovered that the roads were packed with traffic, people were running through the roads and the hills, but away from what? A bright light coming over the hillcrest, followed by a deafening boom signaled a large explosion. One very terrified Clyde sped back to his camp, only to find it in flames. Jumping off the four wheeler he sprinted towards the camp, screaming a mixture of names and noises into the night sky, before the faulty generator exploded and sent debris towards Clyde, knocking him out. Clyde woke up to the sounds of sirens and gunfire. The sun was just breaking over the horizon and the air was bitter. The flames had mostly died out, but it was clear the camp was nothing more than scrap metal and ash. Clyde fell to his knees. His life, his friends and everything he's worked towards for the past 3 years was all destroyed. This was the first of many times Clyde has experienced loneliness. Many times over the course of the undead apocalypse Clyde has found new friends, new places to call home, but it seems it always ends in disaster. So many times when bad luck begins to happen around a group, Clyde will leave. He's highly pessimistic about everything, but he always tries his best. He's learned the importance of the people around him, and does his best to help other people, even though he harbors a thought in the back of his head everyone he knows will die, horribly. And he will be forced to watch it happen. His life is just one big walk from one bed to another, until he finally reaches the place he calls home.