A/N
After finishing Dying Light for about the 15th time, I decided to see what other people's takes on the world were. I was pretty shocked to see that not only were there less than 30 stories, most of them were only 1k or so words. So, I took it upon myself to write this, an A/U spanning about 150k words, going from the start of the game, all the way to the end. How is it an A/U? You'll just have to find out.
Also, I don't own Dying Light. Its entire content belongs to Techland.
I ran as fast as I could. Weaving through buildings, leaping over fences and cars. I ran into a parking lot. Wide open, with only a few cars to use as cover. I slid across the hood of a police car, my leg catching on a shard of glass. I hissed in pain as I fell into a crouch on the other side of the car. Throwing open the door, I climbed inside. The cut on my leg was deep, running the entire length of my thigh. It would need to be stitched up when I got back to the safe-house.
A screech cut through the air. Long and inhuman. I sunk into the seat and glanced out the window. A Volatile, a relatively small one, but just as deadly as any other. I suppressed a curse, any sound I made would be picked up. I kept watching. It scanned the parking lot, looking for any sign of life. A plane thundered overhead, the Volatile followed it across the sky. I looked up, a parachute deployed. It was smaller than usual, surely not enough to support several hundred kilos of supplies. It could only mean one thing; someone was dropping in. As the plane passed the Volatile turned its attention back to the lot. Letting out another screech, it leapt from the roof, dropping to the ground with a thud that rattled the windows of the car.
I had to run. If I stayed where I was, I would surely die. Or in the worst case, turn. The Volatile was closer. Stalking towards me in a predatory manner, searching for where ever the smell of blood came from. Searching for me.
I made a split second decision. I bolted from the car, a cry from behind me telling me I had its attention. I jumped a low fence, skidding down the hill on the other side, rolling to my feet at the bottom. I couldn't stop, if I stopped I died. The Volatile was still behind me, its heavy breathing spurring me on. I rolled under a pipe, and jumped through a train car. The safe-house was right in front of me, just a little further. The only thing between me and safety was a chain fence, and the police van that signalled the entrance. I vaulted the fence too quickly, my foot caught a loop. My momentum was dragged to a sudden stop, and I fell.
Landing hard on my side, I rolled onto my back in time to see the Volatile climb onto the top of the fence. It jumped to the ground, stalking forwards as I scrambled back. I felt cold metal on my hand. The van! I just needed to climb over and I would be safe. I started to pull myself to my feet when a foot crashed into my chest. I'd forgotten about the Volatile. I looked up, its jaws mere centimetres from my face. They pulled apart, and I closed my eyes, waiting.
Bang! A gunshot. Close. I could still feel the foot on my chest, pressing me against the side of the van. I opened my eyes to see the Volatile staring towards the Tower. Bang! Another shot. The Volatiles head snapped in the direction of the sound, it was over to the East. Bang! The Volatile turned back to me, lowering its head level with mine. It opened it jaws again, and roared. I forced my eyes shut, feeling saliva pelt my face. My ears rang from the sound. I felt the foot lift from my chest and heard the Volatile running. Bang! My eyes widened in realisation. The person from before. If they had just dropped in, they wouldn't know about Volatiles.
My leg protested as I stood up, there was no way whoever it was would still be alive by the time I got there. Regardless, I headed to where the shots had come from. If I was lucky, they came prepared with supplies of some kind. Food, water, weapons. Anything that could help me survive. I climbed up through a building, jumping up the stairs where they had collapsed. I pushed a trap door open at the top and climbed out onto the roof. Crouching behind the low concrete wall, I could see a parachute caught on an overhang, and surprisingly, a struggling person attached to the end. He was attempting to cut the chords with a small knife. I looked around for the Volatile, knowing that it would be close by. Sure enough, it was sitting across from the parachuter, watching him carefully. I watched the way it sat, balanced on a light pole, its head tilted to the side.
Like a cat watching a mouse before it leaps.
The man didn't seem dangerous, he had a rucksack strapped to his back, a pistol on his side and a knife in his hands. The gun would be the only real problem. If he managed to survive. With a sharp snap, the ropes holding him up gave way. He dropped the 5 metres to the ground, rolling with the fall. He stood with the handgun drawn, pointed at the Volatile. It wouldn't do him much good, the infected's armour would be too thick to pierce. Knowing he was doomed, I started to shuffle away. My foot kicked a discarded can. It rattled along the roof. Bang! The low wall in front of me exploded into a shower of dust and chips of stone. I heard the Volatile roar, there was a thud. Bang! Bang! Bang! A scream ripped through the air. This time, it wasn't from the Volatile. The screams stopped, replaced only by the sounds of flesh being torn apart. I climbed back down through the building, heading to the safe house. I would try to scavenge anything left from him when the sun rose, and the horrors hid away.
My watch beeped. 06:20. Safe, at least safer than night time. I dragged myself out of the sleeping bag and ran a hand through my hair.
That was way too close last night. I almost lost my life to a Volatile, all thanks to my stupidity. If I hadn't insisted that we needed to do a night run for supplies, I wouldn't have almost died, and the Tower wouldn't be down 4 runners. Climbing over the van, I started heading towards where the man's body should be. If I was lucky, the supplies would be undamaged.
I climbed back up through the building, and pulled myself up onto the roof. The alleyway below was a mess. The parachute was still caught on the overhang, the body of the man in a pile on the ground, dried blood stained the ground around him. Climbing down the outside of the building, I dropped off the lowest awning. The smell in the enclosed space was horrendous. The heat of the sub-tropical climate rotting the corpse faster than normal. I pulled my machete off the side of my pack and crept forward slowly. Biters would be attracted to this like flies. I was surprised that they weren't already there. Crouching down over the body, I started to roll him over when a growl came from behind. I spun around, machete raised, and saw a biter stumbling out of one of the buildings.
It lunged at me, and with one swing of the blade, I severed its head. Quickly looking through the doorway, I saw the room was completely sealed to the road. Blood smeared across the ground and walls. Almost as bad as the alleyway I stood in. I turned back to the body, the rucksack now exposed. Sifting through the contents, I pulled out anything that might be useful. A length of rope, cans of dried food, the small knife, and several magazines of ammunition. The handgun was still grasped in his hand. Bending the fingers back, I pried it from them. I unclipped the holster from his shoulders and fastened it around my own. Sliding the gun into place, I packed away all the items I needed. As I turned to leave, the rucksack on the ground vibrated. Rummaging through it again, I pulled out what seemed to be a cracked satellite phone. It vibrated again. Pressing the green button in the centre, I lifted it up to my ear. After a moment, a voice cut through the static.
"Crane, report."