Before the outbreak, she made a living surveying potential sites for oil rigs. She was working in Turkey when the outbreak hit. Fortunately, and largely due to the fact that she was visiting a very remote rig at the time, she missed the chaos resulting from the initial wave of infections. When her team's helicopter returned to Adana, they couldn't raise air control and saw people on the landing pad. They diverted to an empty field - lucky for them, because almost everyone was infected. They fought their way to the outskirts and holed up in a vacant house, waiting for help to come.
When her teammates turned, it happened quickly. She ran. She knew they'd kill her on sight, she'd seen how people were in the city, but she couldn't bring herself to hurt them - not when she was coming to terms with the fact that she couldn't reach anyone back in the States, making it quickly apparent those might be her last friends on earth. What news she could get hold of was bleak at best. This was the end of the world, at least as she knew it.
Driven by the kind of insane hope you only find in the eleventh hour and at the bottom of a bottle, she started walking to Russia. She'd consulted on surveys there in the past, and had made friends in several places. Adana wasn't survivable anymore, and she had no clue how to get back to America.
That hope died around Aksaray. But she kept walking anyways. Eventually, surviving became more about continuing to travel North than it had ever been about Russia. These days, she'd tell you she doubts any of her friends survived, and most days she believes it.
When she finally hit the Black Sea, she found a boat that worked well enough to gamble on. She spent months patching it together. She'd say she made it well enough. In truth, she barely made it. The hull was damaged, and taking on water. The trip was slow, and she was nearly dead of thirst by the time she abandoned ship off of the coast of Chernarus.
Now that she's washed ashore, she's not sure where she is. She thinks she might be near Sochi because of all of the Cyrillic. She's planning to get by on her iron will, the little Russian she picked up in Moscow, and her wits.