Tribute to DayZ – Fiction Second Draft

It seemed like i’d spent days in the water, after jumping the rail from the ship, the infected were everywhere and I had no other options. Scrambling onto the beach and panting on the shore, just thankful for being alive but starting feeling the cold wind beginning to bite. In the distance the dull thud of a shot gun tells me all I need to know, the infected are here. Picking myself up, throwing both arms around me and shivering, looking up the shore I can see a small house a hundred yards to my right, keeping low, praying not to be seen, I creep closer, very aware that the t-shirt and jeans I’m wearing are lethally inappropriate for the late autumn weather, the only positive thought in my head: its not raining.
Slowly staggering to just outside the gate of the one story fisherman’s house I listen, the only sounds now are the birds and brisk wind, opening the gate wincing as it gives a loud squeak free swinging out of my hand and abruptly juddering with a loud tang against the metal stop. No point waiting, I need to get out of the wind, even though, as I just noticed half of the windows a broken, stumbling forward I try the closed front door and with a sigh of relief find its unlocked, opening the battered tarred door quietly my eyes instantly fall upon an old black woolen coat hanging on a hook to the right. Keeping it quiet and assuming from the broken windows and the stillness, there’s no residents, I pick up the musty coat and slip into it, as gratefully as I’ve even donned any garment. A thump against my thigh sets me to fishing inside the lining of one of the pockets: a care warn Swiss army style multi-tool with attachments. Starting to take in my surroundings, I note I’m probably not the first visitor, the food cupboards by the old iron stove are all open, one hangs swinging on one hinge. Looking further I see a table and chairs and door leading to internal room presumably a bedroom. On opening the door, the unmistakable stench of something rotten hits me, so quickly its closed. Just as I’m pondering my next move, I hear the pounding of soft shoes and a rasping of breath from outside, without thought I open the back door and run!!!

Five Minutes later and thankfully warming up from exercise, I have to stop, crouching, fighting for breath, just behind a holly bush. During my frantic dash I’d passed signs of societies breakdown, several cars abandoned on the road, i’d pounded across to get into the trees, with doors open and windows smashed. There’s an old grey pick-up just ahead. Pausing for a few more minutes while my breathing normalizes, to make sure I’m not being followed and to confirm there was no signs of anything else out there. I reflect on my options, practically naked and alone, with what only can be described as predatory human beings who’ve been infected by the virus that’s swept the planet, I can either give up and die of fight to survive, the radio had said that any contact with bodily fluids: blood, saliva can lead to infection so: don’t exchange fluids with the infected.
“ha ha ha” I’m loosing my mind, or am I returning to sanity, anyway “I must survive”, first a weapon, I feel the desperate need to get something to drink, as I’ve got stomach pains due to the salt I swallowed during the swim. That pick-up may have something useful, so risking a mad dash into the open I end up sat down on the forest side with my back to the drivers door, thankfully there’s no dead, looking up and down the road, I open the door, the first thing I see is a half empty bottle of mineral water, in the door pocket, opening it greedily, i swash it all back. Putting the empty bottle in my pocket. Next a rummage of the glove box brings up nothing but an old paperback, try the other side pocket, again nothing. Back seat nada. Jumping out, checking left to right to see I’m still in the clear, I stand up to have a look in the bed, again nothing, there’s is however a built in tool box just behind the passenger compartment, I open it and inside an old flat head screwdriver. It’ll do more damage than my bear hand so I grab at it and shove it in my trouser pocket.

Thinking I’d spent enough time in the open I run up the rise of the roughly forested hill and start jogging using the cover of the tree line keeping watch for more abandoned vehicles, other survivors and shuddering at the thought the infected.

Rough second draft may return later to expand or edit, but may not.

NB: DayZ is available through steam.


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