My name is Emery Turey. My family were farmers and hunters. We had a good life and a deep family heritage which saw generations of Turey men migrate from Sierra Leone and settle in the Soviet Union during apartheid. It was a great place for us to grow just outside the city of Vybor but in between Gorka. The farm lands were endless, great soil, and the just far away from the demands and devastation of the inner cities...so we thought. I had inherited my fathers farm as a teenager. He had passed away from unknown illnesses and left only my mother, sister and myself behind. There had been a rift between family members who ousted my father from the family klan for economic reasons. My father decided to become a nomad and self sufficient, so he broke away from the communal environment of our klan and was considered to be a deserter. As his only son, I inherited his woes and misfortunes. After his death, I tried many times to reconcile with my uncles and cousins. My good intentions fell of deaf ears. As the Civil War hit, it left the countryside devastated. My father had created several storage units deep in the woods that served as pantries for our families when times got hard. Due to the harsh times of the Civil War, my uncles, knowing my father had food storage, attempted to reconcile. I however could not bring myself to betray my fathers own feelings and after so many times of trying to make amends, I had given up on the extended family. One night after many years of being ostracized, they surrounded our house. The torches could be seen and the heat surrounded the house as they began burning out hay, livestock, and storages. The smell of kerosene was so sharp it threatened to take the lives of my mother and sister. The two became very sick. After the angry ex-family mob had left, I was forced to rush my mother and sister to the hospital in Severograd.
I just remember waking up among the infected...My mom strapped to the bed, cables hooked to her...dead....As I went down the hall, my sister shot in the head...dead...The devastation was unreal. Screams could be heard all over the hospital. I could not find my car. I must have walked for miles and miles back into the country side. I never made it home. Everywhere I went was death. Fires blazing, homes ransacked, stores barren. Suddenly I heard a helicopter fly over head. Several armed forces emerged from the tree lines and forced me to the ground. I was taken to a refugee camp. I am not sure where that was, but I know it was on the coast. Things seemed to be going well, until several soldiers who had gone out scouting, brought back the virus to the camp. It was overran in days. Since then, I have been traveling alone, just trying to find my way.