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Another DayZ Short Story: The Foreigners, Part 1

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Location: Outskirts of Seattle, Washington, US of A

Wolfgang Schmeichel hid in the back of a little-Tokyo sandwich shop, pinching his nose. Why didn't the Zeds like animal meat? The shop was full of rotted, foreign vegetables and meats. The kitchen had two dog kernels. There was an old man with a slashed wrist in the bathroom. The cash register was smashed.

Wolfgang pulled the magazine of his M4A2 to check how much ammo was left in the magazine. He'd wrestled it from the arms of a dying soldier after his jeep wrecked downtown. Escaping the military and the riots into western Seattle, the only salvation he'd found turned into a worse hell: The Zombies. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and slid the magazine back in. Thank whatever trickster god is responsible for these bastards I joined the NRA for a month. Crazy homophobes at least taught me how to shoot.

The door jingled. Having hid behind the counter, Wolfang popped up, rifle ready. "H-hello? Are you a flesh-depraved monster?"

"What? Oh, no." A jolly laugh responded. Why was this guy in a good mood? Hell had found earth and gave birth to zeds!

"Uh... a-are you friendly?"

"Certainly. What is your name?"

"W-Wolfang. Schmeicel."

"Aye? From the Deutschland? What a coincidence. I'm Herr Hoffmann."

"Eh.... well, hello. How're you?"

"Pretty good. And you?"

I considered the question. It was about ten at night, some of the streetlights had stopped working, and the lights were off. This Mr. Hoffmann was a shadow among shadows in the doorway, or had he moved somewhere else? The only thing Wolfgang could see was the orange glint of his rifle's ACOG, and wished he was as well hidden as the other.

"Uh... fine, considering the apocalypse."

"Oh, that outside? That's nothin'. Pfff..." His accent sounded German, but not convincingly. "You mind if I get these lights on?"

"Go ahead?" The streets looked clear enough. The lights flicked on. Herr Hoffmann was bald, large, and tall. He held a police-issue shotgun and wore a black leather jacket. His face was rosy. Was he inside?

Cautious, Wolfgang pulled his rifle off the counter and stood up. "H-hi."

After a strained conversation, Wolfgang walked outside with his new friend. As he passed, he noticed two thick, black L's, one sideways, sticking up over the rim of the jacket, at the base of Hoffmann's head. "What did you say your name was?"

"Herr Hoffmann."

"Right..." Herr? "So, you said you had friends and an SUV heading to Idaho?"

"Yes. We saw you dash into the delhi earlier. Thought we'd scared you, and felt kind of bad."

"Well, after the riots, I didn't fancy being around people too much."

"That's understandable. Military is getting jumpy."

As if on cue, a black SUV pulled around the corner, a diagonally slash of bullet holes ran up the back and a few red gashes painted the front bumper. "Really jumpy."

Hoffmann opened the front door. He took a step towards the car. It smelled like cheap pot and hookers. "So you said you looted all this?" The back seats and dashboard had a crazy assortment of firearms and knives.

"Funny how easy it is to find things in America... but we owned a few things first. How else would we get this far?" Wolfgang didn't know how he'd even escaped his apartment. "Sure... but the stuff in here doesn't look legal."

Hoffmann sat down. "Legal?" he laughed. "There are undead in the streets and you worry about legal? Since when does the brotherhood care about legal?" He laughed harder and grabbed an assault rifle. Wolfgang didn't know what type, just that it looked menacing and automatic. "What brotherhood?"

"The only one that matters! The Aryan brotherhood!"

It was then that Hoffmann noticed the little star hanging from my neck. I honestly thought it'd keep the zombies at bay. I looked down slowly, to see why he was frowning. "I..."

Hoffmann spoke to someone in the car, then got out. He shoved me to the ground and pointed his rifle at me. A shorter, thinner man got out of the driver's seat with an oversized, flashy pistol and walked rather swagtastically around the car. I kicked, flailing, and knocked the barrel away, then ran back into the delhi, chased by bullets. What the fuck? So I go from riots to zombies to racists?

-end of part 1-

http://dayzmod.com/forum/index.php?/topic/131904-another-dayz-short-story-the-foreigners-part-2/

Edited by Applejaxc
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Well done. I have to say, if DayZ needs storyline editors for the SA, I would definitely apply. You have a rare skill to be able to make my eyes give way to an imagination that I had thought was long dead. Again, well done.

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Well done. I have to say, if DayZ needs storyline editors for the SA, I would definitely apply. You have a rare skill to be able to make my eyes give way to an imagination that I had thought was long dead. Again, well done.

Did you guess he was part of the AB prior to him saying it?

And oh my god, yes. I would love to be a background writer for the SA. I'd do it for free, too... or maybe without being paid physical money, but a community badge and a free copy of the SA?

...

You just gave me a beautiful idea.

I'll get Part 2 done, then start outlining my SA storyboard.

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I would definitely enjoy reading more. I look forward to coming back and seeing what you've come up with.

I've got other stories.

Maybe I should start linking all of them?

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