Beaches full of gunfire. Survivors succumbing to the dead. Shamblers swarm a survivor before my eyes. I drop them. We enter a barn, two other survivors having sheltered there. The dead approach from all sides. Gunfire only brings more. The wails cease. Triumphant, we four.
Supplies exchanged. "BLAM" yells one. Darkness greets me.
Cracks of rifles. Cherno to my West. Not certain death there, but it holds not my hopes, dreams. Killing over supplies while the dead consume the remaining tempts not. Lightly patrolled barns are my haunts. North. As best I can manage. I come across a fortified castle. Barbed wire keeps these grounds safe. A survivor approaches! A stranger to this fort as well. We exchange pleasantries, dispatch shamblers, and go our separate ways.
Novy! Gibs watches my approach, keeping survivors away. Wizzard joins. We clear houses, barns, stables. Rifles, supplies! Enduin, Indigo and Gibs make their way across the fields. We gather more supplies. Gibs and I out in a yard, Enduin, Wizzard and Indigo in an adjacent house. We overhear Wizzard talking to Gibs. Gibs and I know that it is not Gibs that is being addressed. Gunfire erupts! Wizzard and a bandit assailant lay dead.
We retreat to the woods. A crashed helicopter! No crewmen, survived or shambling, near. I'd dreamed of taking to the skies, temporarily safe from the tearing of flesh by bullet and tooth.
Gibs continues his hunt of survivors. Enduin leads Indigo and I towards Krasnostav. We are swarmed in one town. Out in this northern town, two other survivors creep. We head north once more, knowing that Stump has secured Devil's Castle. Miles we cover. No survivors, no civilization. Out of a clearing a......dam?
Krasnostav lays to our east. Nearer than Stunt. We search the airfield. Easy going during the day. We retire for the night. Enduin awakes. Something now sits in the hangars that were previously cleared.
Hope. A way out. These shamblers cannot fly. Yet. Easy to save others, trapped atop rooftops. Hunkered in the farthest reaches. This agent of hope requires repairs. Fuel. We again secure this airfield, although it is not without peril.
Enduin continues his sweeps across the airfield and nearby town. Gathering supplies that overwhelm a tent that this chopper held. Stunt joins Indigo and I in holding this creature of the sky. A call goes out to fellow gaffers. From across the land they travel. AJ, Broken, BS, Krappa, Mob, liquid, legacy, wizzard. Scavenging parts that we may escape this land of death. Metal, able to fly, skirts carefully along the roads of this dead land. Experience enough, perhaps, to secure our flight. For hours we keep the field secure, the dead never overwhelming. Our barricades protecting.
Gaffers trickle in. A man appears in the pilots seat. A survivor, silent. We question, but no responses. Wizzard, Enduin and I head off to the town, supplies our goal. The man flees the chopper, Indigo in pursuit. Leaving the stranger with a slug in his leg. I hear of gaffers gathering much needed medical supplies. At the airstrip we hunt for food. Others gather fuel. Stunt has undertaken the dangerous journey to the south of this city, jerry cans in hand. Stunt ever faithful, while Enduin and I remain.
Finally we are gathered. Confusion surrounds the repair of this helicopter. No avionic mechanics among us. One jerry can is poured in the Huey. Its blades lifts it off the ground! I jump on, rather than miss this event. Fuel leaks. It returns to the ground once more. Parts break. Frustration, fleeting hope. Thoughts that this beast will not leave the ground once more. We discover a fueling station within walking distance of the hangar. As the confusion fades into the night, a supply chain emerges. We guard it jealously, rifles dispatching the shamblers. They seeming insignificant now. Who fears death when man can fly.
Ready. Enough so that we may find a remote clearing. The chopper sits just inside the hangar. We, unable to wheel it out. It must fly. Almost too close to the edge to fly. Metal readies himself as we empty the hangar. Far enough that any mishaps within the choppers home will claim only one of us. I record the tales of men while Krappa records the sights. We two, to chronicle this flight away from the dead. The chopper lifts. Majestic, even while hovering. Creating its own storms. It clears the hangar door. Then shock sets in. Its nose tips. Far above us. It pounces. My vision fails me. Then returns, all red. Ringing in my ears. Through red I see the chopper turn, end over end.
Death welcomes me. Still in shock, no processing is allowed. But there are other worlds than this.
(thanks Mickey & Krappa)
Believe in Survival:
Part 1: Last Night's Adventures -
Part 2: Adventuring -
Part 3: Rainy Night, Deaths Galore -
Part 4: Blood feuds -
Part 5: Stalkers -
Part 6: A Calm Night -
Part 7: No calm here -
Part 8: Misteps -
Part 9: The Lives of Miscellaneous People -
Part 10: Deja Vu