Tales From The Apocalypse

[Heerlo]

So, relatively new poster here. And I do apologize if this thread is in the wrong place(mods, by all means, move it if it is!). I started playing 7 Days nearly three years ago now on A15 and it quickly became one of my favorite games. Been playing it ever since and have compiled quite a few survival stories-"Tales From The Apocalypse"-if you read the thread title. This may have been done before, but I thought it would be cool to have a thread where we could share these stories. I'm going to start off with my very first experience playing 7 Days on a server with my cousin and my brother.

 

 

I opened my eyes to the bright light of the sun bearing down on me. I slowly got my bearings and then got on my feet. Observing my surroundings, I saw a mountainous area, covered with grass, and with only one structure in sight. I seemed to have lost my memory. What had happened? Had I hit my head? Had I been robbed and left for dead? Try as I might, I couldn't dredge up the memory of what had happened. As I began to explore the area, I seemed to recall only one thing: my cousin was supposed to come to my aid.

 

But why? I had not seen my cousin in months. How did he know I needed help?

 

Not that I was one to wait around for help. I continued my exploration, in the direction of the one lone structure I had spotted. But as I approached the house, the strangeness of the situation multiplied many-fold. There they were, the undead. I don't remember how many, but they were there. And whatever had happened in my previous life-a life I now could not remember-no longer mattered. This was life in the apocalypse.

 

I now knew why my cousin was coming after me. Unarmed and completely unprepared for a fight, I simply did my best to avoid the handful of zombies I had spotted. They seemed passive for the most part. That is, until I got close. Still, they were incredibly slow and could not catch me. But the whole situation still gave me the creeps.

 

I began observing the horizon in all directions and it wasn't long before I spotted my cousin approaching. I knew he would be able to explain what had happened and provide some assistance. He gave me some water(it was hot wherever I was and where whatever happened happened). I followed him and we began the trek back to his house.

 

After maybe half an hour of walking, we arrived at his home. If you could call it that. A run down looking old two-story wooden house. I couldn't remember what his old house looked like(it had to have been better than this dump!), but this was his house now. And I guess that's all that mattered. It was surrounded by wooden, pointy spikes, which I assumed were a defense against the undead. Through the spikes went a narrow pathway through which we could get into the house. Outside the layers of spikes he had filled in a hole with his own personal water source. In the aftermath of whatever-the-heck had happened, it seemed my cuz had become a pretty capable guy.

 

My brother was there, too. I didn't know when or where he had been when all this went down, or how he met up with my cousin. And it was only then that I even remembered I had a brother. Not that there was any time for catching up.

 

For a few hours, the two went over the basics of what my new life in the apocalypse would be like-teaching me how to make a primitive bow with arrows and use it against the undead and other useful survivor tips. They also showed me around their makeshift "home".

 

When they felt I was comfortable(I still wasn't sure), they decided to go off into the city to loot for supplies. I stayed behind at the house-this was still a lot to wrap my mind around. As I wandered around the house trying to make sense of my new life, I saw it: not too far in the distance, a brownish, four-legged figure, with a rack of a few points of antlers on his head-a deer.

 

A reasonable assumption told me that of course food would be hard to come by in this new life. So, willing to make myself useful, I donned my primitive bow, took an arrow and decided we would be having deer for dinner when my roomies got home. I got as close as I could without the deer becoming alarmed. I took my shot-I don't remember if it hit the target-but my dinner took off down the hill toward a lake. I pursued for a few moments, until something else caught my attention.

 

I started hearing thunder. That alone wouldn't have been alarming. But to top it off, the sky was turning red. Was this another strange phenomenon that was now a regular occurrence in the apocalypse? When I thought about it, I seemed to recall a memory-whether from this life or the one before-that told me the undead are at their fiercest when the moon turns blood red.

 

Still not certain as to what was going to happen, but not wanting to be caught in the middle of it, I left off chasing the deer and returned to the house. Common sense told me to get the highest level. As I made my way upward, the sky turned darker and redder. Until finally, when the sun went down over the horizon, a dark, bloody sky was all I saw when I looked up. My brother and cousin had never returned, and all I could do was fear the worst. I was now at "home" alone.

 

Alone.

 

Almost as soon as the sun went down, I heard an otherworldly, bone-chilling screech that might have woken the dead. That is, if they had not been the ones doing the screeching. They gave me two or three minutes to fear for my life. Until I heard the footsteps of a feral horde of zombies approaching the house. I don't know how many there were(it felt like a thousand), but I prepared to face them and fight 'till the end.

 

They charged straight at the house, falling all over the spikes my cousin had placed around the perimeter. But it was not enough to stop this army of the dead. They began to reach the house and beat on the walls. Could they break into a wooden house with their cold, dead fists? I was about to find the answer to that question to be, yes. With a continuous thumping, they began to tear through the old house and it wasn't long until they were on the bottom floor. Luckily, they couldn't get to where I was on the second level. But as they continued to damage the walls more and more, a terrible thought entered my mind: what if they bring the whole place down?

 

It seemed to be a real possibility, but I wasn't giving up on life just yet. With all of the arrows I had managed to make during the day, I donned my bow and took shots wherever I could find them. For several sleepless, night time hours-what seemed like an eternity-I fought for my life against the onslaught of the undead.

 

When the sun finally began to rise in the morning, the zombies stopped coming, and only a few stragglers remained wandering around the bottom floor of the house. I picked them off one by one until the house was secure. I had survived-somehow-but I still didn't know whether my brother and cousin had made it through the night.

 

As the sky lost its reddish color and daylight began to return, they returned to the house. They had ran into some trouble in the-wherever it was they went-but somehow they were back. I spent the rest of the morning trying to come to grips with the fact that the nightmare I faced during the night was going to be a regular occurrence in this new life of mine. Was this really the life I wanted?

 

Maybe fate had a way of telling me that, no, this wasn't the life I wanted. I don't know where it had happened, but somewhere, in my two days of living in this world, I became ill. I don't know if I was infected by a zombie, if my heart gave out from stress, or if I was sick before I lost my memory. But later that day, I fell over dead from unknown causes. Call me a coward, but I was not meant to live through any more tales from the apocalypse.