DAY 3
I awoke late in the afternoon of this, my third day on this wretched
continent; the musk of damp straw barely concealing the stench of filth and rot
wafting in through the barn doors. Less
than 72 hours ago I was holed up in the control tower of Balota Airfield with
Mitch, another survivor. Yesterday we were joined by Matt who shared in
the division of supplies we had been gathering. There was quite a bit of useful equipment
laying around the airstrip; road flares, chem-lights, first aid,
ammunition and several two-way radios with surprisingly long range. The food we had accumulated was composed of
canned beans, pasta and sardines, but not a roll of toilet paper anywhere. We departed the seaside airstrip after
passing the dangerous daylight hours in the control tower; taking turns on
watch while the others attempted to sleep through the moaning and barking of
the Zeds. I left behind the rattle-trap
Makarov I'd had since arriving after retrieving a used, but well maintained, M9
from what was left of a Chernarussian military officer.
We moved in a sweeping arc from straight north to northeast, staying
inside tree lines and out of the deadly bandit rifle scopes in
Chernogorsk. Along the way I quietly
dispatched a wild warthog and Mitch butchered it before we each took a share
for later nourishment. Our initial
destination was a small lake, south of a town called Nadezhdino, and indicated
on a worn map I found squirreled away in a file cabinet in the tower. To be honest, it turned out to be more of a
retention pond than a lake, but it was the most freshwater we'd seen since
leaving the coast. We drank our fill and
topped off our canteens, barely daring to hope for nothing more than a stomach
ache from the slightly murky water.
Another look at the map and we decided on an ultimate destination of
Zelenogorsk to the northwest. A
handwritten note on the map pointed to a supermarket and a water well in town,
as well as two smaller settlements along the way that offered shelter and possible
supplies. We set out, me leading the
way; which, in hindsight was the end of the easy part of our journey and the
beginning of my current predicament. I
had recently bragged that my sense of direction had been flawless up to this
point, but it turns out that karma has a sense of humor. After a number of slight, but compounding,
changes in direction I finally had to admit that I had no idea where we were on
the map. After settling on an agreed
direction we climbed a hill to get a better vantage point and hopefully some
insight to our location. We found a
small settlement at the base of the hill and could just make out a radio tower
or antenna on a hill beyond.
Based on the visible landmarks of the settlement below and the tower
in the distance, I proposed that we were on a hill southeast of Kozlovka and
that the radio tower rests on Green Mountain, putting us about a third of the
way to Zelenogorsk. The settlement was
composed of several dilapidated farm houses and an open barn with very little
Zed activity in the surrounding fields.
A drizzling rain had set in and with the assessed risk being low; we
sought shelter and a chance to scavenge supplies in the barn. After a drink, a snack and a chance to dry
out we began trying to zero in on our location.
Unfortunately from our vantage point inside the barn, navigation became
even more complicated. Nothing we could
see outside the barn matched the layouts of either of the two settlements on
the way to Zelenogorsk.
Outside the barn we could see large power line towers and concluded we
could follow those to Zelenogorsk. By
this point I had convinced at least myself that we were actually in Drohzino,
not Kozlovka, which meant the trek to our final destination was shorter than
I'd hoped. I don't know if it was
exhaustion, or exasperation at my navigating, but it was here that Matt left
our company. The parting was amicable
enough and no shots were fired; we even left him with one of the two way radios
and the hopes to rejoin ranks in the near future. Perhaps he was holding out on food or knew
something we didn't, I may never know; then again maybe I'm just paranoid. He could have done us in at any point, taken
our supplies and moved on, just as we could have done to him.
Mitch and I moved on to the power lines, skirting Zeds and livestock,
and made quick work of covering the open fields without incident despite the
moonless, overcast sky. It wasn't long
before the town came into view and we set our sights on yet another barn on the
outskirts. The Zed population here was
more pronounced than the previous places of respite we'd visited, likely due to
the size of the town. The final hundred
yards into the barn was a silent ballet of timing and careful slinking between
wandering Zeds. With the coming dawn we
opted to spend the day in the barn and search the town the following night, and
I found myself amazed that the only shot fired in nearly three days was to take
wild game for food. I hope that keeping
this journal will help me maintain a bit of my sanity and, more importantly, my
humanity. These are dark, frightening
times and it is difficult to remain optimistic and humane when it seems like
everyone and everything wants a piece of you.
I have friends, I still have hope, and I still want to survive. I’ve often said that things are never so bad
that they can’t get worse…at least we've made it to Zelenogorsk.
DAY 4
After the events of last night I am doubling my efforts to record as
much as possible in this journal, in the hopes that should the worst happen
maybe someone will find it and glean some useful information from its
pages. The fact that I'm even here to
pen this entry is a huge testament to the loyalty and symbiotic brotherhood
that has formed between Mitch, Matt, me and our new comrade Christian. I'm sitting in what I'm sure used to be a
beautiful mansion in the rural community of Pusta; surrounded by empty bags
that once held precious blood, expended syringes of morphine and blood soaked
bandages that all tell the story of a desperate, life-saving operation. My life, my survival, thanks to my
brothers-in-arms who put themselves in harm's way to cross the Zed infested wasteland
of Chernarus to perform procedures I could not perform on myself.
When I awoke in the barn yesterday, Mitch had already left. Not in abandonment, but in the hopes of
gathering intelligence on the town. I
attempted to contact him on the two-way radio but for quite some time my only
answer was silence. While continuing to
attempt communication I searched the barn once again, this time combing through
the haystacks with an old rusty pitchfork.
I hit pay dirt in one haystack and uncovered a stash of shotgun slugs,
two cans of beans and a full canteen of water.
I tried to raise Mitch again on the radio to convey my incredible luck
and finally got a response. However, being
the snarky buzz kill that he is, Mitch quickly dashed my enthusiasm with not
one, but two tidbits of not-so-good news.
First off, Mitch informed me that he wouldn't be returning to the
barn. He had ventured out to find some
water and gather intel on our whereabouts in relation to the market in
Zelenogorsk. When he attempted to return
to the barn, he found that a large contingent of Zeds had moved into the area
and were blocking his way. Evidently in
the daylight one of them spotted him and he was forced to try to outrun them. He was able to outdistance them after some
time, but it had left him some remarkable distance away from the barn. In fact, he found himself at that very moment
looking down the hill into Kamyshovo.
Kamyshovo...that's over ten kilometers away; which confirmed the second
bit of bad news: The barn that I was
sitting in was indeed not located in Zelenogorsk.
Mitch informed me that he needed to find some food and water and then
he'd start heading back west towards Pusta.
I let him know that as soon as I figured out where I was at, I would
make for Pusta as well. The horde of
Zeds had apparently been led away by Mitch's rapid departure, leaving me the
opportunity to explore my immediate surroundings relatively unmolested. There was an intersection of roads a couple
hundred meters away from the barn that appeared to have signs with city names
and distances still legible on them. My
command of the Cyrillic alphabet is dismal at best, but I was able to recognize
two city names on all three signs.
According to the signs, I was only one kilometer from Chernogorsk and
four kilometers from Elektrozavodsk.
That most certainly means I was nowhere near Zelenogorsk and my
navigation skills had completely unwound themselves the day before.
The upside was that I appeared to be less than three kilometers from
Pusta. As I set out towards the hills
northeast of Chernogorsk my radio crackled to life with an unfamiliar
voice. Another survivor had discovered a
two-way radio and was channel hopping looking for friendly support in the
vicinity of Prigorodky. Any other time
and I would have more readily offered to join ranks, but at this proximity to
Cherno and Elektro, the bandit population is overwhelmingly in their
favor. About the same time, our previous
ally Matt came on the radio and agreed to meet with myself and the newcomer
identified as Christian. Two against one
odds with an unknown seemed fair to me and we all eventually met up at a lake
near Kopyto Peak. Christian turned out
to be an accomplished survivalist and a welcome addition to our party.
The remainder of the hike to Pusta was uneventful aside from the radio
call from Mitch informing us he'd arrived at the east end of the town and was
awaiting our arrival. When we reached
the west side of town, we contacted Mitch and attempted get visual confirmation
of his location. Eventually we settled
on the idea of pitching a road flare into the field between us, which served
double duty to also distract the attention of the handful of wandering Zeds. We caught sight of Mitch making his way down
the hill and towards town as we moved north.
Once in town we could all see the mansion and chose that as our
rendezvous point.
Inside the run down mansion was a considerable amount of supplies and
equipment, but we discovered a danger as well.
Through neglect and disrepair the creaky wooden floor has developed
large cracks and loose floorboards.
Christian was rearranging his gear and dropped his sidearm which bounced
and fell through a large crack. None of
our arms was long enough to reach it and attempting to pry loose the flooring
attracted too much attention from the Zeds outside. This left Christian in a dangerous state with
no weapon, which was quickly punctuated when I accidently kicked an empty tin
can in the kitchen. The noise turned the
already agitated Zeds into an invading swarm that we were forced to engage from
defensive positions inside the mansion.
We killed a couple dozen before the attack was over, with only minor
injuries amongst our group. We began an
earnest search for weapons, ammunition and the ever important food and water.
Up the street from the mansion was a storage barn that yielded
practically nothing of value but nearly landed us in another Zed attack. Several road flares and tossed tin cans were
needed to sufficiently distract the horde.
We hit the water well in town, looted the mansion one more time and then
struck out for Mogilevka. The hike
northwest was uneventful, even routine at this point, with no Zed nor bandit
contact along the way. In hindsight,
that ease passage may well have been enough for us to take down our guard, or
perhaps just the strain of trying to survive was taking its toll; because in
Mogilevka, everything went south.
Our first point of interest in Mogilevka was a large barn, or stable,
on the east side of the town. The moon
was bright and visibility was very good, maybe that's what started the first
attack; it was impossible to enter the barn without being seen. Regardless of our attempted stealth, at least
one of us was spotted before getting the door closed. That wave of Zeds went down relatively easily
and seemed to be the end of it. The
stable yielded only some flares and chem-lights, but someone had been there
recently as there were large piles of empty cans.
The previous occupants, of whom there was no sign or remains, had left
the local Zeds in a state of higher alertness than most. Our movements around this section of town
were much more contested than any settlement we'd visited up to that point. Upon making our way to a smaller barn, we
were immediately set upon by multiple waves of Zeds; some even reaching through
cracks in the walls. Our situation
immediately deteriorated when I flubbed throwing a road flare that landed five
meters from the door. That resulted in a
raging firefight that took a massive toll on our ammunition stockpile and more
than one injury requiring medical attention.
During a lull in combat, we decided to vacate the barn and made a run
for a smaller building away from the flare.
At first it seemed to work but soon the Zeds began swarming our new
hideout. Tactically, the building was a
deathtrap, far too small to effectively maneuver and defend. The fact that we escaped that building
without a friendly fire casualty was no small miracle. Mitch however, who was the last one out, was
gravely injured by a Zed. He managed to
crawl to safety while Matt dispatched the pursuing undead. There was a great deal of near panic as we
patched Mitch up enough to make the run to the church, and hopefully sanctuary,
at the other end of town.
None of us came out of that small room in excellent shape; we all had
our share of wounds. By that point I had
lost a great deal of blood and was suffering blurred vision and a pounding in
my head. I know the others were
similarly suffering. More cautiously we
made our way up the street towards the church, but were sorely disappointed to
find it sealed up tight. A couple of
Zeds, dressed in torn rags that used to be robes of clergy, roamed the area. Our hopes of sanctuary were dashed. The Zeds were highly alert too; they rushed
us almost immediately, our fresh wounds like chum in the water. We all ran to the four winds as the horde
fell upon one of their own and tore it shreds in a sickening display of voracity.
The amount of ground a person can cover when running for his life is
truly remarkable. Matt and I had run
mostly west, into a large pasture, but didn't have far to go before
escaping. The last I saw of Christian and
Mitch they were headed south away from the church, pursued by the bulk of the
snarling Zeds. I was now sorely wounded,
with my vision completely blurred and losing consciousness at almost regular
intervals. I knew I had lost a lot of
blood and was in dire need of a transfusion.
The only place to find that much blood and the right equipment would be
a hospital; and the closest was in Chernogorsk, bandit country.
Matt vowed to stay with me and be my eyes, so we set off south west
towards Ozerko Lake and Vysota Hill.
Somewhere in the forest north of Vysota Hill we became separated by the
dark and my lack of vision. We tried to
reconnect at a pair of stables but as Matt approached he was swarmed by
Zeds. Over the radio he announced his
intent to run through the area and draw out as many Zeds as possible and lead
them out of the area. That was the last
I saw or heard from Matt. His sacrifice
may well have saved me, but at what cost.
Maybe he made it, I hope to find out.
I continued southwest and looped around a large power station,
approaching Chernogorsk from the west.
Since I was losing consciousness very regularly, I didn't want any more
exposure than absolutely necessary. The
fear of fainting amongst a pack of Zeds and being consumed in my slumber was
overwhelming. Coming out of the forest
from the west I slowed to a crawl, literally.
Zeds were everywhere, but I was more concerned about being spotted by a
bandit with a high powered rifle. The
crawl to the edge of town was excruciating and I know I fainted at least a
dozen times. Once near the hospital
though, the Zed population decreased significantly. I quickly located and packed away as much
blood and medical supplies as I could carry and returned to the forest the same
way I came in, crawling...slowly and quietly.
More than once I had to lie still in the prairie grass as Zeds lumbered
within feet of my torn body. I knew they
could smell my wounds, but felt only a slight comfort knowing that their night
vision was exceptionally poor.
In the relative safety of the forest I dared to try to raise Matt on
the radio again. Nothing. Then suddenly, a crackle and a voice on the
radio. Christian and Mitch had made it;
they were seeking refuge in a castle called Rog, east of Pusta. The signal was weak from the distance and the
stones of the ancient fortress, but it was enough to sort out a rendezvous
point. Despite my blood loss, my
adrenaline skyrocketed, enabling me to run as far as Vysota Hill before
collapsing again. I slowed my pace,
mindful of my condition and the distance yet to cover. To compound matters, I was on the verge of
starvation. With no food since leaving
Pusta and the wounds I had received, I was facing the very real danger of
slipping into unconsciousness permanently.
The odds of Mitch and Christian finding me then would be practically
nil. My fainting was becoming more
frequent with the hunger, my haste and the altitude increase approaching Pusta.
I eventually came to Pusta from the west, again, and upon arriving at
the mansion came upon an unnerving discovery.
Bodies of Zeds littered the yard, belying a recent battle. I was in no condition to engage the Zeds,
much less a healthy, ill-mannered human.
Pausing outside the mansion for only a brief moment I listened through
the rushing in my ears for sounds of bandits inside. With nothing significant coming through my
impaired senses; I had no choice but to
make entry and hope there were no unfriendly occupants still around. My good luck prevailed, for once, and within
a few minutes Mitch and Christian arrived.
Mitch administered my transfusion bringing me back from a very near
death. Afterwards I administered a
transfusion to each of them, restoring each of their health and vigor.
We sit here now, in this decaying mansion, as another day begins to
break; each with his own thoughts, me with this journal. We dare to hope that our comrade is out
there, and that we can find him when the dark returns tonight.
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