one~ Tin cans and survivors

Posted: J July, 2013 in Uncategorized

Tin cans…and dried out Pepsi cans too, were all that I found in the hatch, er, open doorway of the small Russian farm house. The door to the kitchen was open where I could see a table, two chairs and a dirty sink.

I walked into the little kitchen. Setting my DMR on the rickety wooden table, I leaned over and picked up one of the overturned chairs and sat down. It was a bit risky, but to actually sit in a chair (even one as uncomfortable as this) was a nice change.

Looking at the empty cans made my stomach rumble. It had been a while since I had eaten anything substantial. The rabbit I caught was tough and small, but it was at least food.

Next time I might risk a fire. Bloody meat wasn’t my favorite thing to enjoy.

As near as I could figure, it seemed like when a ‘survivor’ was ‘killed’ they either stripped off some of their gear, or someone did it for them. That was the only way I could explain the food, clothing, weapons and TAC gear one could find in buildings.

I did watch in horror once when a bandit I shot re-animated in front of me.

He rolled around a bit and then stood. Hunched over, he looked around at the room first, then himself.

Picking through his pockets, he removed a military MRE, and a single can of Coke. After looking at them with dead eyes, he growled and dropped them to the ground. The last thing he did was to move straight toward me before a double-tap of my M9-SD tore the back of his head off, dropping him to the ground.

Doubtful that he would turn up on the beach anytime soon, I’ll bet.

I moved in for the much needed food and drink, and made my escape through the back entrance of the storage room.

That was two days ago, and the rabbit one. Food soon, and drink or I would be in serious trouble.

I had not seen Hoppy, the Russian or any other person in weeks. Things fell apart after the tent med base next to the airfield had been over-run. Balota was a nice town once I’ll wager, noise from the single airstrip was balanced with sea air and easy navigation to the main coastal highway. If it were in America, I would surmise that it was mainly people that worked on the base or in not too distant Cherno.

A large bandit squad had made the decision that they needed the food, weapons and med gear that we had saved up. A large battle had started and we too few survivors were overpowered easily.

I found myself awake on the beach many kilometers away with basic gear, and a new hat.

Go figure.

Yesterday morning I found a Winchester and a few rounds on a body in a barn. He wouldn’t need it anymore I thought as I eased it over the well used pack he was wearing and slung it onto my back.

“Sorry buddy” I said to the body. “I need this now, and the Coke too…” The aluminum can was hot and dented, but wasn’t leaking. I stuffed it and the slugs into my Alice packs side pouch. “Might meet you again someday, but do us both a favor…don’t look at me or follow me or we will do this dance again!”

The sound of footsteps outside the barn made me duck behind the haystack that was on the second floor. I hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t hear the flies buzzing all over the body a few feet from me.

Slowly, I cracked open the Winchesters trap door and saw the brass of the rounds in its tubular magazine.  Easing the hammer back, I brought the weapon up, ready to drop the threat and run to the trees.

Grunting, the survivor moved up the first set of stairs to the level I was crouching on. I listened intently to see if he was alone, and waited for him to cross the end of the stairs. Launching myself up I brought my Winchester inline with the survivors face. One pull of the trigger and he flew off the top of the stairs, falling to the stone floor below, bones crunching and blood mixing with the straw. I carefully moved down the stairs and watched the doors while removing the hatchet from my belt. My eyes darted from side to side and with determination I struck twice, caving in what was left of his skull.

In this world, it was a mercy killing…almost.

I shrugged out of my Alice pack, and pulled his body to the side, stripping him of his Coyote Backpack, the pistol belt and its holstered weapon and to my amazement, his green stocked DMR!

He didn’t have much food on him, but did have ammo, bandages, antibiotics and a canteen. All of which made it in and on my equipment belt and new pack.

I stopped and listened for movement…nothing here, but growling and barking in the corner of the building lot told me that the shot had brought some hungry company. I stole out the door and quickly cut to one side. Dropping onto the ground, I moved behind another hay pile and cinched down the new gear.

Bringing the DMR off my shoulder, I scanned the tree line to see if there were any of his friends. Nope. I pulled the operating rod back a bit to confirm that there was a round in the chamber and stabbed the mag release once I saw the gleam of a 7.62 sitting in the breech. Pushing on the top of the magazine, I determined that it was only down two rounds. Racking the magazine back into the weapons well, I decided on a next move.

“Nothin’ to do but to do it!” I said to no one, and sprinted for the tree line. The fading sounds of growling and aggravated zombies faded behind me. Peering over my shoulder, I looked to see if I was being chased or followed. Nope, all was as clear as it could be…this time.

I was watching a small group of survivors that had set up a camp just NNE of Elektro a short time back, and they were talking about the small airstrip that was located not far from the coast, but way up north.

Tensing my legs, I was about to back away from the three when I heard one of the men say ‘too bad you killed that nurse. I coulda used a time or two more with her’. The two other men laughed loudly, stupidly at the rapist comment. It was enough sound to cover my movement up to them.

Six rounds, three dead bodies, a Russian federation UAZ and new gear were now mine. I chose not to finish them. I hoped to meet them again, and kill them all over… I smiled to myself with that thought as I loaded their gear into the UAZ.

Starting the Russian Jeep up, I slid into first gear and moved onto the road. Let’s see about this airfield, and let’s see if we can get back to the world.

I need food and sleep, but first, I need to hide this UAZ. And while running through the forest like some over armed bunny was hard, driving was too noisy and THAT brought far too much attention.

For now, I need rest, so I decided to stash the UAZ in the trees, and take off on foot.

Two days later, here I am. Me, a canteen half filled with questionable water, and a large virtually empty backpack.

Ill tell you the rest after some sleep.



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