My name is Isabelle Campbell. I grew up fairly sheltered and was never into technology - both of my parents were selective technophobes... "no cell phones - they give you cancer!". I learned how to be aware of my situation and environment in a way most others wouldn't. I didn't rely on google maps to get me places. We learned of the virus through some of my parents' friends, but didn't have much contact and figured it'd all blow over in a few weeks from when it started. We grew up in the countryside northwest of Ontario, Canada. My father had brought us with him to this new land when he took on an international construction job. He had always been a man of fear for any flu or virus outbreaks in the past - keeping us sheltered and quarantined in our homes when neighbours were sick. He passed away from a workplace accident before the virus took over. My mother was a fantastic woman and did all she could to help us and teach us. In the time that passed, we managed to live off of all that we had, really just a few acres of garden and pantry supplies, before food became more scarce. My mom cut her bare calf open on rusty tin while we were repairing the roof on the shed. My sister and I set out for supplies to treat such a large wound and a way to fight against tetanus and infection. By the time we got to town, hours later, we could see just how chaotic the world was outside our farm. After managing to grab some supplies, we got spotted by another group of scavengers on our way back. They followed us into the woods and stalked us for what had to be two hours, unbeknownst to us. My little sister was tired and asked to stop for a rest. I resentfully agreed. Looking back, I should've just pushed on and carried her, even. The group of three men, mid 30s, caught up to us quietly and grabbed my sister. We screamed and they laughed. They told us no one was around. They reached for me but I had had more time to react. These men only had close-quarter weapons - running was a possibility. I didn't know what to do, and I was afraid of being grabbed myself, so I ran. I ran and I ran, grasping what I had left of supplies, stumbling through the trees. I never saw my sister again. When I got back to home, I sobbed together with my mother. She wasn't angry, she knew I couldn't have done anything to help. But she was very sick from infection at this point. I gave her what little medical supplies I had gathered... but it was too late. It wasn't enough. I watched as she breathed her last, right there in my arms. ... I can't trust anyone or anything. My goal is to survive ... and to find my sister. She's gotta be out there. I do not intend to trust any person, as people have only hurt me and killed my family. I search all the infected for signs of my sister. She has to be out there somewhere. She has to be.
Lucy Clarke is the name. I grew up in Toronto, Canada. I was an early childhood educator and worked in a daycare. I don’t talk much of my family, as I was disowned at 18. That’s a long story I don’t need to get into. I followed and moved to the love of my life, Carl, who grew up in the northeastern part of Chernarus. We met via an international church event and had an online relationship until I moved to him. Carl worked as a construction supervisor, but he didn’t talk much of his work. We were living together at the time of the outbreak. Carl and I were prepping for the future of getting married and having children together. So much for that. Carl contracted the flu and was overcome by it in the initial wave. I was left alone to fend for myself.
I was with Khaled when we met Scott in a southern town. We chatted with him a bit and offered to give him a ride to his friends.
He declined at first.
I insisted that it would, in fact, be no trouble, and we'd love to help out and not let him walk all the way. We politely chatted along the way, Scott guiding the way to where his companions were.
Getting to the church, we were confronted by gunpoint and told to enter the church. We complied. I was very confused as to why they were being so aggressive, as they had absolutely no reason to believe we were bad people and especially since we had Scott, their friend, with us. I was compliant and answered the questions with honesty. One of them claimed that he knew me because he saw me in soup kitchen a number of times, and thought I was a bandit (Not entirely sure of that accuracy, as my character had been to soup kitchen maybe three or four times - and not ever in a hostile circumstance.).
They said they are doing this because they have reason to believe we are bandits. I found it surprising, then, that they just asked us redundant questions, took our guns and supplies, and then our car.