"Work In Progress"
I grew up on a farm in the northern region of Saskatchewan, Canada. The family farm had 500 acres and between me, my Dad, and my brothers Jake and Bailey, we kept everything running. We mainly had cattle, a herd of almost 200. I was born in 1998, both of my brothers were younger, Jake was born in 2001 and Bailey in 2003. My grandparents were farmers that fled what is now Ukraine after the First World War, immigrating to Canada and establishing a farm that stayed in the family. Traditionally my family had never been rich, we had been farmers, but we worked hard and we were happy. I enjoyed my freedom from the sprawling cities, I enjoyed hunting, fishing, and being outdoors in the forest.
Most of my childhood was spent outdoors, I hated being trapped indoors. I begrudgingly participated in school, I was smart but I never did well on tests. As I grew older I took more responsibility on the farm, handling chores and looking after the herd. My Dad taught me to shoot, using a trusty .357 repeater. A few years after learning to shoot my dad taught me hunt, after killing a deer he taught me skin it. During 2009 my dad followed the events of the Chernarus Civil war closely on the news. After questioning him he told me that we had relatives in Chernarus, my great grandfather's brother had stayed after the first world war.
A few years later I had graduated at the age of 17, and planning to enroll at the University of Saskatchewan for Agriculture. However in the summer of 2017 my Dad had received a letter from my Uncle Andriy, technically a first cousin, that he needed help with his farm harvest in Chernarus. His son had died in a car crash in 2012 and he could no longer do the full harvest by himself, he was a widower. My dad was not able to leave the farm, so the responsibility of helping family fell to me. So I packed my bags and traveled across the Atlantic.
Uncle Andriy's farm was located south of Novaya Petrovka, when I arrived in late June and we spent a night getting close, then began looking over the cattle in the morning. We worked for a few weeks when the news became unnerving. Uncle Andriy unearthed an ancient Mosin Nagant and a repeater. We were fairly out of the way but the reports of the rabid infection still warranted the precaution. The night of the 18th I was out checking the spooked cattle when I heard gunshots coming from the house. I ran back and saw a bloodied woman dead on the floor, and Uncle Andriy bleeding out against the wall. I hardly had time to say goodbye before more infected swarmed the house, and I fled into the night, alone.