Content Warning!
This story contains mature and potentially distressing themes, including violence, death, trauma, and psychological distress. Scenes may depict graphic descriptions of gore, suicide, and the harsh realities of survival in a post-apocalyptic world. Additionally, there are references to sexual violence, though nothing explicit is depicted. Reader discretion is strongly advised.Some characters may make difficult or morally ambiguous choices that reflect the brutal nature of their world.
While Darkest DayZ explores these themes with narrative intent, it does NOT seek to glorify or romanticize them!
If you are sensitive to any of the topics mentioned, please proceed with caution. Your well-being is important, and there''s no shame in stepping away if needed.
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A gentle breeze wafted over the neighborhood, carrying the scent of fresh dew through snow covered trees and vacant bushes alike. The sun was bright, hanging neither too low, nor too high above the horizon. Jasper Walters inhaled deeply, taking a brief moment to enjoy the peace before dropping his eyes back to the dull sheet of paper pinched between his clothed fingertips. White vapors unfurled and lingered across his vision as they poured out of his lungs.
His thumb rubbed over the parchment thoroughly, glancing just below the edges of text he''s scribbled on its surface days earlier. Dried splotches of brown from his morning coffee fused between each fiber, leaving the ink partially disturbed. The address was still readable, but just barely.
He pursed his lips in thought. It had to be here somewhere. He''d entered the correct street a few blocks back, so finding the rest was supposed to be a piece of cake. That was the story he told himself, at least.
Jasper went over the paper again, then for the third time that day, scanned the mostly barren streets to gather his bearings.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen....
He counted the houses in his head, stopping short when his eyes could see no further. It was close, but unfortunately, not close enough. He needed the twenty-third. Nothing more, nothing less. Brilliant sheens of freshly fallen ice coated the landscape, but unfortunately its brilliance did not do much to ward off the massive wave of disorientation clouding his better judgement. The place looked as unrecognizable as the washed out scribble of symbols he clung to so religiously.
Tightly knit suburbs and bustling streets, all conveniently labeled in numerical order, were the base of Jasper''s upbringing. Out here, he was not quite as spoiled. Jasper was completely out of his element.
Another breeze swept by, a little stronger this time, prompting a mild shiver. He needed to keep going. As nice as this morning was, spending it out here a moment too long was not favorable.
His heart sank, then regret poured through in waves. A few minutes ago, ditching his dirty lift seemed like a good idea. It was a foolish action in comparison now. The driver, his cousin, may have been a little negligent on the vehicle''s upkeep, and the owner himself was definitely a little... questionable, but at least there had been warmth. Never in all his years of existence did he think he''d ever find himself longing for the guy''s rotten company, and better yet, the musty odor he always drove around in.
Jasper glanced over the small piece of writing one more time, committing it to his already well-informed memory, then slipped it, along with his hand, back into the comfort of his coat pocket. He still had a few strides left to go. Better to be done with it sooner.
"Fifteen.....sixteen....seventeen..." he counted aloud as he walked, his voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded in greeting when he passed by an older individual, a small, unassuming woman sporting a mildly uninterested expression beneath her furry hood. Despite the subtle limp in her step, aided by a simple cane that was grasped between her wrinkled fingers, she kept up a decent stride, nearly barging through Jasper''s oncoming bulk entirely. His greeting went on ignored.
Jasper did not put much weight behind the antisocial gesture, as startling as it was in the moment. A friendlier face, appearing to be a little boy, skipped at the elder''s side, waving at him over his shoulder. Jasper smiled and instantly returned the favor, the sourness of his earlier encounter swiftly forgotten. He could not help but notice the miniscule backpack strapped to the child''s eagerly bouncing shoulders.
That''s right, he thought to himself. He''d almost forgotten. Schools had opened back up a few months ago following a very... prolonged closure. A symptom of society''s gradual return to normalcy.
Jasper could never fathom life beyond the comforting shores of the island, let alone the tragedies that took place decades prior, but that was precisely what brought him here. There was no telling what tales were waiting for him down the very street he trod. The thought made him giddy with his own excitement.
Still, it did not stop him from taking the odd moment or two to appreciate humanity''s progress when it was due. Maybe, when all was said and done, Jasper would allow himself to come back and enjoy the open scenery as a treat. An old village such as this ought to look absolutely breathtaking in the spring, he was sure. For now, escaping this unforgiving cold came first and foremost.
Twenty-one... twenty-two...
Jasper stopped.
A stone wall, reaching no higher than his belly button and draped in vines of ivy, both dry and dying, caught his attention. He squinted, spying a thin spiral of smoke rising out of a quaint chimney above, and a tiny porcelain bunny barely peeking out of its powdery burrow of snow. The latter was precisely the landmark Jasper needed.
He inched forward, peeling away the creaky gate that separated him from the front door and trudged across the frost bitten walkway, cautiously cupping a hand over his brow to peer through the nearest window. It was not clear why he did. Blue eyes stared back at him through a shaggy mess of brown hair. If the barely-open blinds on the inside did not block his view, his reflection mostly certainly did.
He shivered again. It took him a second to realize he was shaking for a completely new reason. Maybe it was the unraveling ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach. An odd sensation. Confusing even. Jasper seldomly succumbed to nervousness.
He exhaled deeply, his breath fogging the glass. A faint figure moved behind the blinds. If the plumes of smoke above had not confirmed his suspicions already, this did. Someone was home.
Jasper, finding the courage to finally seize his opportunity, retracted his face and lifted an unsteady hand to knock on the door. His knuckles rapped firmly against it''s worn, wooden surface twice. He had intended on three, but the door swung inward, interrupting him. Staring Jasper down from the opposite side was a woman. Not one he recognized by any description. Her face, while a bit startled, took him in with curiosity.
"Can I help you?"
Her voice, soft and pleasant, took the man somewhat by surprise. In this nearly soulless winterscape, her tone alone was enough to cut through the air, dispelling his endured silence. That was not the only thing her noticed, however. Her accent... it was not one he recognized, yet it was precisely what he found familiar. He could not figure out why.
"Ms. Petrov?" Walters questioned with slight caution.
There was a small pause before the woman''s lips pulled up at the edges, forming an understanding smile before she politely shook her head and strutted past, ballooning garbage bag in hand. Jasper''s gaze followed patiently. "No. I''m merely her neighbor," she stated as she casually heaved the bag into a nearby bin.
"So... this isn''t her residence?" he enquired slowly, pulling the tiny piece of paper from his pocket again and giving it yet another cautionary glance. He could feel his uncertainty growing with every passing second.
She raised a gentle hand to stop him before he could get in some good focus, amusement now pricking at her features, though she did her best to hide it. "No, no. You''re definitely in the right place."
Jasper, realizing he''d gotten ahead of himself, slowly set his arms back at his sides. The woman continued, moving to stand back in the doorway. "It is as I was saying. I am only the neighbor, but I like to come around every once in a while to check in on her. Brighten the place up a little bit." She glanced back over her shoulder into the cottage, at nothing in particular, then back at him again. "You must be... Mr. Walters?"
She''d been expecting him, as the hint suggested. He gave a brief nod in response, taking her hand in his own when it was extended to him and shook it firmly in mutual greeting.
"That''s me," he confirmed, refraining from peering past her when the urge arrived. He did not want to appear impatient. Then, realization dawned. "You''re the one I spoke to on the phone! Tatiana, was it?"
She nodded the affirmative. Jasper had no idea what he should have expected. She was a dark woman, in her early forties if he had to make a guess. A stark contrast to the individual he''d trekked all the way out here to see.
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"Is Ms. Petrov inside?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not for the time being. She stepped out for her morning walk not too long ago, but you''re welcome to stick around till she returns. An early warning for you, though. She can be a bit... abrasive"
Old news, in more ways than one. Many had taken the time to warn him before his arrival. But given she was not yet available....
"Is this a bad time?" Jasper quickly questioned, now hesitant.
Tatiana, again, shook her head, drapes of curls bouncing around the frame of her face. "Not at all. It''s about time we saw a new face around here. Ms. Petrov doesn''t get out much." She stepped aside, motioning for Walters to enter. "Won''t you come in? You must be freezing."
Jasper smiled tightly, thankful for the woman''s hospitality, and walked right through.
He felt the difference as soon as he passed through the door, his ears tingling against the warm haze that floated around the interior. The door closed behind him shortly after, officially shutting out the icy breeze he''d entered with. When Walters looked around, he found himself standing immediately outside what was presumably the living room, a cozy area complete with a homey, brown carpet and finely aged seating arrangements to his left. Up ahead stood a flight of stairs leading up to some unknown part of the cottage. A closed door to his right hinted at a bedroom.
Tatiana made her way a short distance past furniture, making a direct line for a blazing fire dancing below a fireplace on the far left wall where a small steel pot hung directly above the flames.
"I was just about to make some tea. Would you like a cup while you get settled?" she asked, giving Walters a brief glance.
Upon some brief reflection, a steaming brew did sound like a nice idea. Anything to ward off the icy sensations that still plagued his fingers.
"I''d love a cup," he confirmed.
Tatiana gestured beyond the living room, towards a rickety pair of chairs stored neatly around a small but equally-as-rickety table on the deep end of the cottage. A small flower pot sat at the table''s very center, illuminated by some soft, white light streaming through a perfectly aligned window nearby. "Please make yourself comfortable."
Jasper obliged. Wooden flooring creaked beneath his frost ridden boots as he walked over and plopped himself down in one of the two open seats. He craned his neck, peering outside into what he could only assume was the backyard. Beneath the blankets of white powder, it looked plain and unassuming, but he could not help but spy the tiny group of discarded gardening tools, likely marking the border of an unoccupied flowerbed.
Flowerpots, Jasper counted a dozen of them, decorated a set of floating style shelves on the wall just beside him. Neither appeared to hold anything currently in bloom yet. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by approaching footsteps to his left. When he looked over, he was greeted by a steaming brew, already in the process of being placed on the table in front of him, followed by a minor serving of cubed sugar. Jasper, despite the underwhelming amount presented, nodded his thanks.
"We''re unfortunately dealing with a small shortage. You''ll have to drink it black," Tatiana stated matter-of-factly, her tone only half apologetic.
Unfazed, Jasper simply took his drink in hand and cradled it against his chest, a single, blissful sigh slipping past his lips as he allowed its warmth to fill him up. He could already feel it seeping through his several layers of winter wear.
"You too?" he questioned, raising a curious eyebrow. "I never realized the new restrictions reached this far."
He reached out and plucked a lone cube from the bunch. He didn''t want to appear greedy. Tatiana slid into the opposite seat, an identical cup to his own pinched between her dainty fingers.
"Unfortunately. The town''s milk stores ran out two weeks ago due to this unforgiving cold. But I''m pretty used to it after all these years, though." Her laconic response suggested minor frustration.
Jasper, familiar with the feeling, dared not push the topic any further. "Here''s to hoping for a swift end to our winter," he proclaimed softly, lifting his drink in light hearted solidarity. Engrossed by his attitude, Tatiana gave a slight smile.
"Your optimism is appreciated," she replied, mimicking his gesture before briefly tilting her cup to her lips.
A short silence fell between the two. Neither side felt equipped to break it.
Jasper took this as his opportunity to go over the room more thoroughly. His eyes spied a peculiar decoration above the fireplace. Against the subdued backdrop, it stood out like a sore thumb, but at the same time it matched perfectly. Bright, furry fibers of green and pink lay in messy swirls, some seemingly ripped out in small patches, seamlessly fitted to what he determined were a pair of tiny slippers.
Tatiana must have sensed his rising questions, because she chuckled. Jasper sensed a hint of solemnity.
"A touchy topic that one. Though I''m afraid I have little right to speak about it," she said.
"I wasn''t aware Ms. Petrov had children."
"She doesn''t," she corrected. "Though there was a child, April. Ms. Petrov wasn''t motherly towards her, per se, but I''ve never seen her go out of her way for anyone else so... fervently. But you didn''t hear any of that from me."
Jasper''s brows furrowed. April. He''d heard the name, but only in bits.
"She may be a private woman," Tatiana continued, resting her elbows on the table. Her voice softened, choosing her words carefully, as though figuring out which would best help him without overstepping. "But she''s kind in her own way, even if she won''t admit it. I know the stories about her paint her as... difficult, but she has her reasons. Life wasn''t exactly easy out in the Deads."
Jasper stirred his tea, watching the liquid swirl around the sugar cube he''d dropped in earlier. "That''s precisely why I''m here," he admitted, glancing up at Tatiana. "I want to hear her story, directly from her, if she''s willing. The papers have always been very lacking. I think people should know what she''s been through. What people like herreallysacrificed."
Tatiana raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You''re taking on quite the challenge, Mr. Walters. Thorn isn''t the type to open up easily. Don''t be surprised if she sends you packing before you even get a word in."
"Thorn?" Jasper echoed, the name striking a chord. It wasn''t unfamiliar to him; he''d heard it whispered by those who spoke of the harsher days. "Is that what she goes by now?"
Tatiana smiled faintly. "It''s what she''s always gone by. It suits her, doesn''t it? Tough. Sharp as one too. But beneath all that... well, I think you''ll figure it out for yourself, if she lets you."
Jasper leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea thoughtfully. He''d expected things to be difficult, but the more he heard, the more daunting his task seemed. His gaze wandered, looking at nothing in particular as he contemplated. Tatiana waited patiently. "You obviously know a lot about Ms. Petrov. How did you two meet?" he finally spoke.
Tatiana focused on the cup in her palms, taking her time. "My father met her first while out on an operation. Naturally, he introduced her to me when he brought her home to the haven. You could say we became flat mates for a while."
"Hold on. Are you saying that you—"
Tatiana nodded before he had the chance to finish. "I am. But I was very young back then. You''d be better off gathering your excitement through your interview with Ms. Petrov."
Jasper stared, dumbfounded.
"I moved into the neighborhood with my father not long after things started to settle again. Ms. Petrov kind of tagged along. Poor thing doesn''t really have anyone left," she continued her story, smoothly reshifting the subject with a wistful smile, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the rim of her cup."She''s not the easiest person to get along with. I think she nearly scared half the neighborhood off at first. She still keeps to herself for the most part. Not particularly warm, but I don''t think she really knows how to be."
Jasper, after composing himself, raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Sounds about right from what I''ve heard," he muttered, thinking back to the countless warnings he''d received. "But you stuck around?"
"You could say that." Tatiana chuckled softly, giving a nod. "Not much has changed since then, to be fair. It took a year before she even let me help her carry groceries home. And even then, it was with a lot of grumbling and protest. But over time, I suppose I wore her down—or maybe she got tired of ignoring me."
As if on cue, the front entrance creaked open, accompanied by the faint crunch of boots against snow.
"Speak of the devil."
Tatiana, after carefully abandoning her drink on the table, promptly got up out of her seat. Jasper stood up as well, partly out of politeness, shivering involuntarily as the outside weather invaded the cozy refuge. A familiar figure with a cane, their face concealed beneath their furry hood, stood in the open doorway. The same look of indifference from before pierced him from the other side of the room.
"Welcome back." Tatiana greeted, alreadyat the elder''s side. She promptly shut the door, preserving whatever warmth remained.
"Oh, save it. I was barely out for ten minutes." The older woman cut in, dismissively waving her arm about while she wrestled to undo her coat. Her hood came down, exposing a head covered in bright strands of white, not a hint of grey in sight. Though that was not what caught the man''s attention. At first, Jasper thought he had only been imagining things, but as the stranger drew closer, he found it impossible not to stare. A grotesque scar, located at the joint of her jaw, peered out from beneath the long strands of her sideburns. It appeared that whatever caused it had taken a large chunk out of her earlobe as well.
Jasper''s gaze followed the woman—Thorn, he assumed, though he wasn''t sure if he had it right. He''d seen these kinds of things before, but in the images of abandoned homes or in ruined cities, not in people. There was something off about the way her features held together, an unsettling stiffness. Her eyes—the left side was milky with blindness—stayed fixed ahead, as though the world she saw was all but a convenience.
Tatiana moved behind her to help, but the older woman swatted her hands away with an irritated but oddly gentle gesture, grumbling under her breath as she shed the coat herself. Her movements were sharp, efficient, yet there was an undeniable fatigue in her every motion.
Jasper hesitated before taking a step toward her, offering a polite smile. "Ms. Petrov? I''m Jasper Walt—" he ventured, testing the waters, but she cut him off; her unblinking gaze snapped in his direction. It was quick, almost too quick, like she''d been sizing him up the entire time.
"I know who you are. You''re the nosey, young writer that wouldn''t stop calling. You should''ve just stayed home, Boy," she muttered. Her voice was ragged but firm all at once. She finally but haphazardly tossed her coat onto a rack. It swayed unsteadily for a second before losing purchase entirely, plopping harmlessly to the ground. Tatiana retrieved it without complaint and smoothly returned it to its rightful place. Jasper had been anticipating this kind of attitude—cold, distant, perhaps even a little mocking. He remained unmoving.
"Behave, Thorn," Tatiana interjected with a tone that faintly reminded Jasper of an adult half-heartedly scolding a child. "You promised. No backing out."
Thorn didn''t respond right away, instead taking a step back to remove her gloves and let them fall loosely onto the back of one of the couches in the living room. Her fingers were rough, her nails blunt from years of use. The fire flickered in the hearth, casting a soft glow across her pale features, but it did little to soften the unwavering intensity in her eyes. It was a gaze that could either hold years of untold stories or nothing at all, depending on how one looked at it.
After a few seconds, but what felt like an eternity, Ms. Petrov''s lips twisted into a faint grimace.
"Fine," she said with a huff, moving past the living room to join Jasper at the table. Despite her ripened age, and the obvious limp in her step, her movements were surprisingly sharp. She sank down into the seat that Tatiana had relinquished. When she finally looked at him again, it was with the clear intention of getting this over with as quickly as possible.
Tatiana, satisfied, gave a small, knowing smile. "I''ll leave you two to it. If the old gal bullies you too much, Mr. Walters, I''ll be nearby."
Ms. Petrov, clearly unimpressed, gave an exasperated roll of her eyes, her lips pulling together into the most ghostly of pouts. It was the most ordinary expression Jasper had seen since her arrival, which was not much by any standard.