John Goode, born October 19th, 1985 to mother Susanne Bedford and father James Goode in Juneau, Alaska. The early years of Johns childhood were pretty typical for a kid. John was a straight A student and was liked by everyone in his class. Behind the veil though, not all was well. Johns parents often fought. They fought about money, they fought about his fathers drinking, they fought about just about anything. One night, when John was 13 years old, while fast asleep, John was awoken by the sound of footsteps downstairs. It was late at night and everyone in the house should be sleeping. Assuming it was his parents getting ready to argue, John went and sat on the steps and listened. He heard no voices, just footsteps and shuffling. Eventually, a figure appeared from the doorway from the living room and stepped out into the hall. It was his father, with a bookbag on his back and a dufflebag slung on his shoulder. "Whats going on?" John said. His father looked at John for a few seconds and simply said "Sometimes you gotta know when to go". That would be the last time John would see or hear from his father. The absence of John's father throughout his teenager years took a toll on Johns life. The rest of Johns childhood was filled with trouble. Drugs, alcohol, crime, homelessness, John slipped into a vicious cycle of self-destruction. While not necessarily a bad person, John's addictions lead him down a dark path. To feed his addiction John resorted to crime. One night while breaking and entering into a house where the owner was supposed to be at work, Johns world would be turned upside down. While rummaging through one of the occupants junk drawers John heard a floor board creak behind him. John quickly turned around to find the homes occupant standing there, frozen with fear. John panicked and rushed past the old man to make a run for the door, pushing the man out of his way. The man fell but John didn't think much of it and made his way out the door and as far as he could get from the home. The next morning, after waking up from his sleeping bag, John made his way into town to pawn off his plunder from the night before. As he was making his way down one of the main streets something caught his eye. Through the newspaper stand glass John saw a picture of the man he had run into the previous night. The text next to his picture says "Local man murdered during late-night robbery". Johns heart sank. He felt sick and anxious. Sure, he was a degenerate but he would never hurt anybody. John's anxiety got the best of him and he decided the best course of action right now would be to lay low. John laid low and kept to himself while making his way downtown. John knew that the fishing boats down by the dock would bring on deckhands without asking too many questions since the work was so dangerous and not too many people were willing to face the treacherous, icy sea for some fish. This would give John the perfect opportunity to be away and not draw attention. As expected, John got the job on a shady boat with a shady captain. No paper trail. After a few hours on board John had noticed that there was an abundance of crew with Russian accents on his boat. John didn't pay too much attention to this and kept his head down and did as he was told. Night time rolled around. John had thought it was strange that they hadn't done any fishing yet but again, didn't pay much attention to it and went to sleep for the night. John was awoken in the middle of the night. He'd been having trouble sleeping due to withdrawl. It's been almost 24 hours since his last fix. John stepped out on deck and peered off in the direction the ship was heading. He could see a small flashing light, as if it were guiding them in. The crew began moving crates from the ships hold up to the deck. This wasn't a fishing boat, this was a smuggling craft, but where were these crates going? John would soon find out. The goods were loaded into a rowboat along with John and 2 other crew mates. The rowboat was lowered into the shallow water and John and his mates made their way to shore. As they approached, John noticed 2 men standing by the beach. The boat landed on the shore and the crew began unloading the goods. The men and the crew began conversing in Russian, John couldn't understand a thing but kept unloading the boat. Soon, John felt the attitude of the people surround him change. The crew pleaded with the 2 men but it appeared to have no effect. John was as confused as ever. Suddenly, as John was turning around with a crate of goods in his hands, he was met staring down the barrel of a pistol. John froze with fear for a brief moment but realized he had to act. His eyes glanced to the right and he spotted woods that were lit up by the moonlight. John shoved the man and dropped the crate on him and ran faster than he'd ever run in his life, making a bee line to the woods. He couldn't tell if he was being followed so he kept on running. After 20 or so minutes John ducked into a bush and hid. Dawn broke, John had no idea where he was or what last night was all about. Not knowing where any civilization was John decided to head back the way he came. He remembered crossing a road while running away and surely the people from last night would be long gone. John started walking in the direction he thought he had come from but he must have gotten turned around. He was lost, on foreign soil, illegally. John knew some survival skills from being homeless. He knew how to get food when there wasn't food around and how to get drinkable water but there's no way he could sustain himself longer than a week or 2 under these conditions. He would need to find help, and fast. John survived off of berries and rain water for about a week but his energy was draining and he wouldn't last much longer. Around the middle of the 2nd week John spotted a small town through the woods. Had he been saved? John made his way to the town and spotted a sign which he could not read. The sign appeared to say "nycta". As John made his way closer to town something didn't feel right. There was no sound, there was no one in the streets. It was like everyone had left in a big hurry. Cars remained in the street, some totalled. John knocked on the first house he encountered, no response. He moved on to the 2nd house, no response, but the door creaked open from the knocking. "Hello?!"...no response. John made his way inside. The house was empty. John took a look around the house to see if he could find anything useful. Alls he found was a bag of rice, some canned tuna, and a machete. "It's a start" John thought. John stuffed the rice,tuna, and machete into a backpack he had found in one of the childrens rooms. John made his way back outside and to his amazement spotted a well. John ran to the well and began drinking like a fish. Distracted by his thirst John had not seen the odd man approach him. John heard a loud screech, like a fork being raked on a chalkboard. John immediately stood up and looked around. He saw this figure rushing at him full sprint. John put his hands up to block the figure from lunging at him but was knocked to the ground. A struggle ensued for what felt like an eternity. John managed to get the man off of him but he made another charge. This time, almost as if out of instinct, John reached for his machete and took one big swing at the man. The man stopped in his tracks and fell to the ground. Almost immediately John heard several loud screeches nearby, followed by the sounds of several pairs of footsteps making their way to him at a fast pace. John wasn't chancing it and grabbed his bag of supplies and took off back to the woods.