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Twinkqt

Control of Celle

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So, let me start off with my base. I was with my military buddies, fighting through this horrid new world, luckily, we found a working military helicopter. We wanted to take it back to our base. However, during our flight path we heard a loud crash of broken glass and blood splattered all over the cockpit. Our observer had taken a round from a 7.62 rifle through the chest, he was bleeding out quickly. I jumped forward, putting pressure on the wound. After losing my family, my whole life, and so many friends, I was not about to lose another. I quickly ripped off my headband, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. He died, in my arms. Moments later, we heard a loud crack, the shooter had shot again. His round ripped through our tail rotor and destroyed one of our wings. Luckily, before all this sh*t had happened, our pilot served in the airforce. He took us down, we survived, barely.

So there we were, stuck, in the middle of Celle, zombies attracted by the loud crash and screams. We were stuck on a roof top, hurt, and fighting to protect what little we had after the monsters came. We were not about to let our helicopter, the one thing that could get us off this god forsaken island go. Quickly we set up a perimeter. I had a simple rifle I had found on a dead zombie soldier. We began scouring the factory for anything we could use, but it was pointless. Everyone, and everything saw, or heard us go down. They wanted what we had.

A few hours passed, looking through scrap, mourning the loss of our friend, formulating pointless plans of escape. Until, we heard footsteps. It was my duty to guard the stairs, make sure none of those *ssholes came up and popped us from behind. I saw him, and he saw me. He called out 'They are on the roo-". He didn't finish his sentence, I silenced him with a loud bang from my M4. It was the first time I had ever shot someone who wasn't a flesh eating monster. I saw the blood spurt from his throat as he dropped to the floor, clutching the new hole in his body, letting out disgusting and vile gurgles. I quickly shot again, this time, the top of his head exploded outward with a show of pink, red and grey, splattering on the wall. I was horrified. Little did I know, this was only the beginning. Hundreds of zombies began pouring in the building. I was on my last magazine so I called for help and swapped with one of my friends to cover the stairs.

A few minutes later, after all the zombies were dead or gone. We heard a loud pop. It was unlike any other shot, it sounded like a firework. We all turned, just in time to see the now non-exsistant face of our once good friend. He fell flat on the ground and someone ran up the stairs, holding a high-powered shot gun. He fired randomly at us. He was no match for the group of ex-military we were comprised of. I don't even know who killed him, we were all shooting.

Suddenly, there was a rush of bullets, people firing from the streets up at us, people on the bridge were shooting wildly into the building. People had even posted up in the preschool across the street. I ran back to the staircase, taking back my position. Five more people tried to make it up the stairs. None did. One even held an old fire axe, it was dripping with blood, the blade worn out. It seemed like a pointless fight. We were running low on ammo and food, and had no way of getting off the roof. After almost 3 hours of constant fighting, the shooting petered out. We saw them walk away, watching us, their guns constantly trained on us, they were going to get ammo, or something worse.

We used this time for the best, frantically searching for parts. Luckily, we found it. It wasn't a great fix, but it would get us out of there, an old metal sheet had been cut down for some piping. We snatched it up and began repairing the helicopter.

We were worried, we had fixed the helicopter and were loading up, but it had been 2 hours since they left, everything was quiet. We decided to take it as an indication to leave and started up the helicopter. I have no idea what happened next. I heard a massive bang, it sounded like a tank, then, darkness...

I awoke 30 minutes later, a hard pain in my side, slouched against a wall, 2 of my friends dead, laying beside me. Our helicopter was in ruins, the tail looked like it had been ripped off by a mad giant. Smoke was pouring from the engine and it looked like it was on fire in the cockpit.

I looked around, our group of 7, reduced to 3. My last two friends we shooting off into the distance, I had no idea what they were doing. I got up and moved over to them, bringing my M4. I called out, trying to get their attention over the firing.

"Hey! What the hell is going on!? What happened?!"

I got no answer, I moved over, my side was killing me, every breath shot a sharp pain through my body. I looked down, and saw, sticking out of the side of me, the piece of metal we used to repair the rotor. I dropped down, clutching my side. I sat against the ledge, watching them shoot into the distance at targets I could not see. I checked my M4, 7 rounds left. How ironic.

About 30 minutes passed. My friends still unaware of my presence. They thought I had died. I looked over and saw one person in the stairwell. A young kid, couldn't have been older than maybe 15. He turned the corner and fired 10 shots. Both of my friends dropped into crumpled piles of what they once were, fathers, husbands, sons, friends, co-workers, everything that they had ever done in life, was now gone. He turned to me, walked over and pointed his rifle at me. I accepted what was about to happen. But to my suprise, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a flare gun and shot it straight in the air. He looked up to watch it and I took my only option to survive. I weakly lifted my M4, and emptied the clip. I closed my eyes and screamed, not wanted to watch what I was doing. The bullets ripped through his stomach. He clutched his tummy and looked at me, suprised, scared, angry and sad. I watched him drop to the ground. He was my 8th kill.

Tears filled my eyes, leaving clear trails through the blood of my friends, and enemies that had splattered my face. I looked over the edge, 3 trucks were driving up, they had repair parts for the helicopter and I was out of ammo. There had to be atleast 20 of them. I had to get out of there. I quickly wiped my face, grabbed my dead friend's AK47 and made my way out. I slipped out just as they barged in, limping off into the forest, a bloody AK in one hand, and my other hand clutched tight around the giant slice in my side. I disappeared into the forest.

Now, I bide my time. I will avenge my friends.

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This is based on a true event that happened to me and my group of friends. All the stories in the book will be based off my personal experiences in dayz.

I am writing a book comprised of short stories like this one and I want some feed back. Currently I have about 130 pages done. If anyone is interested, let me know. All the stories in the book will be based off my personal experiences in DayZ. Tell me if I should keep writing or tell me I suck. I want your criticism.

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Celle is a landlocked town in Germany. Other then that nice bit of story telling there.

Edited by Zodiac13
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Ah, yeah, maybe I should look at a map sometimes >_<

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Great story dude! Part 2 any time soon? Can't wait to see how this turns out.

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I have more stories if you guys want to see them. Unfortunately I am in class right now. They are saved on my computer and I can post them once I get home.

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So, you guys want part two? Any comments on the book idea? Also, sneakily hidden secret bump <_< >_>

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Wow Twink! Keep up the good storytelling. I'm waiting to see how I die next. lol

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