“Day 6,

 I woke up in the forest.

I’d made camp here, where I hoped I’d be safe from the insanity going on everywhere else. I’d made a fire, thankful for the box of matches I’d managed to find in my last trip into Stary Sobor, even if it did cost me a pint of blood and another scar when one of them spotted me on my way out. I searched through my bag, the blood I’d lost was making my vision blurry, everything was bleached out, I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. I finally found what I was looking for, the cuts of meat I’d gotten from a boar. It took me 2 hours to find one, and stalking it was another ordeal, but I’d managed to shoot and kill it without attracting any unwanted attention and the meat was invaluable. I cooked the steaks over my fire and ate 2 straight away. I instantly felt better, renewed. I put the other 2 back in my bag for later, I’d no doubt need them. 

 I had enough supplies for a few days, but in this place nothing lasts forever, I’d need to find more food and water soon, and I knew that meant taking some risks. I could live out here though, safe from them, at least for a while. 

 I started to pack up my gear, it was never safe to stay in one place for long, they, or something even worse, would find you eventually. As I packed away the last of my gear, I heard my radio crackle. I snatched up, someone was on our channel, no one had been in touch since this all happened. I asked who it was, and my friends Scott and John replied. I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me, I was no longer alone. I felt hope for the first time since this began.

 My friends had washed up on the coast, where everyone seems to come from, probably because it would be safer on the coast, as they don’t go there. Unfortunately, that leaves room for something even more dangerous to operate, making the coasts the most safe and the most dangerous places to be.

 I was far north of the coast, near the airfield. I’d raided the place for supplies 2 days previous, coming away with my new M4 rifle and a cherished GPS. We agreed to meet up at a town just north of Kamenka, a 25km hike for me, but it was through land I knew. I set out straight away, heading south, keeping one eye on my GPS and one on the horizon. I was in a hurry, my friends were vulnerable on the coast, and I needed them.

 After about 30 minutes I broke out of a tree line and headed for a barn I knew. The farm had been abandoned when I past it last time, but now there was something there. I approached slowly, then I spotted one. I dropped to the ground, and crawled to some cover behind an outhouse. It hadn’t seen me, but it was blocking my route. I leaned around the corner, it was facing away from me. So I made the decision, I slowly drew my M1911, took aim, then fired one round into it’s skull. It crumpled. I slowly moved out of cover, then I heard it. That choked, blood curdling noise they make. I spun around, one of them had been behind me, and I hadn’t seen it. Stupid. I bolted for the barn, 2 more noticed me. I sprinted into the barn, running up the stairs to 2nd level of storage. They never could really work out stairs, they stumbled slowly into the barn, and I took them out one by one. This attracted a few more, and I put them down. I was not in danger, but this was burning ammo I could not afford. I waited a couple of minutes, and no more of them appeared. I cautiously searched the barn, but there was nothing useful. As I left the barn I scolded myself for being so reckless. I needed to focus, to be constantly vigilant, if I wanted to make it through this.

 I kept moving south, and 5km north of the town we’d agree to meet at I came across a small house in a clearing. I approached it, and there was no sign of any of them in the area. I circled the house and parked out side, miraculously, I saw a truck. Not one of the burnt out husks you see littering the roads since everything went to hell, but an actual working truck. I approached it carefully, and started to scan my surroundings. Someone must of brought this here, and now the question was where were they. I quickly checked over the car, and saw why it was apparently abandoned here, it’s front left tyre was shot, blown out completely. I checked the transmission and it turned over, the car was in great condition, just one missing tyre. With a lot of regret, I decided to leave it. It would attract attention and repairing it would use more time than I had. I moved on.

 I followed the road leading south, staying to the forest to the side of the road. 2 minutes down this road I came across a small industrial complex. You could usually get some useful stuff from these places, so I decided to investigate. In the first hut I had found a windscreen, hmm, I could of used that on that car, but without a tyre it was useless. I moved onto another small building, and there it was, a pristine tyre. I couldn’t believe my luck, it usually takes days to find these, with vehicles being in such high demand, other survivors or worse would fight to the death for them. I picked it up immediately. I’d made the decision in an instant. A car would be invaluable and would make life somewhat more bearable. 

I ran back to the house with the car, and found it still there. I rushed to change the tyre, running down without even checking the surrounding area, my excitement getting the better of me. I began to change the tyre, and as I bent down to loosen the nuts, the first shot hit the wall of the house. I looked up, and immediately knew what had happened. Another shot rang out, and hit me in the shoulder. I fell over, bleeding heavily. As I laid there, slowly losing conciousness, I saw him come close, not a zombie, not a survivor, but the most dangerous thing in this place, a bandit. He watched me for a moment, then pulled out his top of the line G17, and put a bullet in my head.

—

Day 1,

 I woke up on the beach.” 

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