November 11th 1997, 12h13pm. I hardly remember what happen that day. All I remember is that is was very loud and painful. That date and time, my birth date and time. My name is Philip Dezan, born in Canada, Ontario, Toronto, raised in Canada, Quebec, Sherbrooke. My parents got separated when I was only 10 years old because my father was a drug addict and my brother was completely torn apart by the incident. At school, I'd be that one kid who was in the "middle". By "middle", I mean that kid who had a great group of friends and bullied by another group of people. What marked me most as a child was when my mother had left me behind on September 5th, 2010. I was sent back to my father at the age of 12 with my 11 year old brother. It was a hard time. My father would mostly spend his money for himself. His computer, his drugs, his clothing, etc. The 3 of us hardly made it with through the weeks on food. Health bills were often coming in because our apartment was very filthy, crawling with white worms. The day I moved out, I was 17 years old and my brother was only 16. Me and my brother worked in a very poor medicine store. We worked in that store for 3 years, saving as much money as we could to move out to another country. Me and my brother had envisaged to leave to South Zagoria, Chernarus in January 2017. 3 years of work brought us to our goal. We booked a one-way flight ticket to resume our lives away from where it was already terrible for us. We picked a small storage/apartment type of room in Chernogorsk, which was fine for the both of us for the time being. We had nearly nothing to spend on after moving here. I applied for a full-time job as Cargo Safety Officer for T.E.C. on the Chernogorsk docks. Basically, what I'd do is make sure that the delivered cargo was still intact and not dangerous and made sure it was legal. My brother found himself a lovely wife who surprisingly spoke english quite well, and they moved together in Chernarus, Zelenogorsk. My life resumed on and per time, my brother would send me a cut of his pay to help me pay my apartment bills and fill my refrigerator with some moderate food. This life was somewhat better than what I had at my fathers place. 4 months later, I've been reporting more illegal shipment from the cargo, which seemed quite odd to me. Some military troops were riding the waves of the ocean more often that usual. I thought it was only because of the more common illegal items found in the boat cargo. Turns out, on July 7th 2017, the Chernarussian Defence Forces were setting up camps around the country roads turning people back from where they came from. I wasn't a much for traveling, so that didn't bother me so much, although something did feel suspicious about it. Maybe the government was trying something funny against us, or the military was just looking for someone in particular. And then the military units were all over the country. Foot patrols in the woods, in the cities on occasions, riding down the road. It was all unusual. A couple of days later, there were reports of some rabid individuals going all out killing people with their bare hands. I tuned my television on the news channel to find out more about this and one soldier was interviewed telling the story of what happen in the Kamensk military base. Apparently, the base was one, attacked by these rabid individuals and was also bombarded by the russian military. I didn't believe it until they showed the pictures of the wrecked place. There's nothing left there. The media here didn't censor anything, all the corpses were still laying on the ground. It was horrible to watch. I quickly picked up my home phone, dialed my brother's home phone. Sadly, I didn't get a response. I was getting nervous and anxious. The next day, I started talking about it to my fellow co-workers, only those who spoke english. They were also telling me stuff that they've seen or heard. It was going through everyone's ears and rumors started spreading. Everyone was panicking. Some nights later, something in my guts told me to stay awake and go under lock-down. Not only have I locked my doors, but I also barricaded the door with my wardrobe, nailed planks to my window frames, shut the curtains and kept a knife near me as I was sat on my rocking chair, too nervous to be able to sleep. It was the same night that multiple gun shots were fired, screams roamed the streets, cryings of terror. Luckily for me, I had filled my refrigerator, although, myself wasn't what got me most worried. I was worried about my sibling. I hadn't got any news from him since he last sent me his cut of money to help me out. 3 days have gone by and my refrigerator was running low, I had to go get something to eat for myself. I firmly grabbed my knife, moved my wardrobe aside and quietly opened my door. It was silent in Chernogorsk's early morning. My neighbors door was open. I swiftly moved inside making sure there wasn't anything in there to try to fuck me up. I made it to his refrigerator, but they had left nothing inside it. That's when my journey began. A car drove by rapidly, mercilessly smashing everything living in its way. I waited for the car to disappear from eye sight and proceeded to move out on the road the car had just cleared for me. These people seemed very alive to me, but I could be wrong, or he could be a mass murderer. I didn't want to move too far out, because the military were still patrolling every once in a while, so I only moved to the next block across and fed myself with the food that was still there. As the day went by, more and more cars were driving by. On the 17th of the same month, 5 UN soldiers and 2 doctors knocked on my door. I knew they were living, because they asked if anyone was still living in this apartment. I moved my wardrobe aside, slightly opened my door to see who they were, and eventually let them inside. The UN soldiers questioned me asking if I know what is going on, if I was bit or if I was sick. The 2 doctors made sure that my health and supplies were good and left me some medicine. The UN soldiers told me that between the 17th and the 30th, everything should be back to normal. Since that interview, gun shots were being heard more and more. July 19th 2017, the day there was the biggest fight I've heard. People were screaming, yelling, crying, running away as a huge was of these rabid individuals were chasing those who were running away. The city was completely overwhelmed and the gun shots eventually faded out as the hoard moved west following the others who appeared as living who were trying to escape the province to the next one. On July 21st, everything calmed itself down. I hadn't heard any indicators of remaining survivors that day. I peeked through my curtain and there wasn't much to be seen except for the other buildings across the road. That is when I started scavenging for food and water in the other residences daily. July 24th. a storm that only added to the situation hit me in the back of the head nearby the beach leaving me unconscious.. It's funny how I can remember all these dates, because I cannot remember when we currently are.