My name is Jay, I was always a quiet, thinker type. Always keeping down and processing the situation from a step back. However, like anything that is suppressed for too long, I can explode over the smallest mistake done by someone unlucky enough to catch me at my fuse’s end. I’ve lived in England for practically all of my life; my family and I would occasionally take a trip to the continent, mainly France, to spice things up a bit but most of the money that could have been used on holidays went to renovations and large house projects, as my parents were slightly crazy. When I had finished my A-levels in the summer of 2014 my family thought it fit to go and return a visit to my (almost) long lost uncle from my dad’s side, who lived in Eastern Europe, specifically a small country bordering Russia called Chernarus. There had been news stories of riots in that area a few years before, but nevertheless we were sure it would be fine. This was a new and exciting experience to say the least! He continuously offered to take my dad and I to the gun range, something that would never have happened back at home. Little did I know, what was a jovial way of wasting time back then, would become one of my most valued skills in present day. When the news broke about the infection our primary concern was getting home...None of us gave it enough credit for it to become an epidemic. As time proceeded and we gradually became aware of our situation, we all became worried. For our lives. The military trying to re-take control of the southern parts of Chernarus only made the atmosphere worse. Now, 3 years on, Chernarus is a post apocalyptic hell. I’ve learned how to survive through the mistakes of my family, they’re all gone, but I remain. I may have some sort of immunity from the virus, as my ankle got bitten on a supply run some months ago, but no effects have surfaced; this also seems to be the case with others survivors I have seen passing me by on my wanders.