So, after spawning on the coast for no reason with a dangerously low, blinking red thirst bar and no liquid to satisfy it, I headed into town. I was no noob, but I was about to die anyways, and this was a 5 day character. It didn't take long to realize I was in Elektro. I soldiered on through the night, heading for a shockingly bright road flair. Maybe someone could help me. The flair appeared to be just outside Elektro's hospital. I scouted the place out for a while and headed in, but not before a slobbering corpse took notice of me. It sprinted towards me from across the black, grimy street. Without thinking, I pulled the trigger. Bad idea. In that moment, I heard a gunshot which could not have come from my Makarov. Who just shot? That was when I realized what I was holding in my cold, shaking hands; an Enfield. I bolted for the hospital, but I couldn't stop every zed in Elektro from coming in right after me. The next 10 minutes were a blur. Shot after shot after shot. My kill count went up from 10, to 20, to 30.... and finally to 78. My Makarov and Enfield were both out, And there were still many zombies itching to get ahold of my flesh. That was when I noticed, in my chatbar, a gang of survivors were in the church, ready to help me. I was eager to believe them. My legs carried me as fast as I could to the church, and as I burst through the doors, the gang of about 5 opened up on the freaks behind me until we were all okay. I started to thank them, but nobody said anything. I realized what was coming, and accepted my fate. Almost crying, I knelt down slowly in the middle of the holy place. The back of my skull exploded and I collapsed, dead.