Andrew Minyard[02]

A deathly silence hung over the city. At two months old, Andrew was already surviving among spectators who wanted to bite off his hand.

In the first few days, no one believed it. But on the third day, a reporter read a prepared government report about a new virus that attacks both the brain and body. Panic instantly erupted in the city. All the foxes literally scattered. Andrew wasn't interested in anyone, but he knew Aaron had locked horns with Caitlin, where he would die. Nicky was panicking too much, and at the beginning of his journey to Eric, he couldn't cross the border safely. Minyard didn't panic. As he'd said, it was better to be alone, in healthcare. He didn't complain or try to escape like everyone else. He immediately started thinking. Logic and a cool head. Food, weapons, the necessary medications, a so-called base in a convenient location. Andrew easily dealt with the zombies, because, to his taste, they were simply mindless chunks of flesh with a neutral sense of hunger and working muscles that rotted further with each passing day. But suddenly, he appeared.

While fleeing, Neil was the first to notice the new virus as it appeared. Mary, desperate to protect her son, considered how to move him as far as possible. But the gas started running out at the worst possible moment. They were almost out of ammo, and there was no food either. It was only a short distance to the city that still called itself safe. Locking her son in the car, the mother tried to deal with the zombies, but was simply drowned in their horde. How many hours had passed since he'd been sitting in the car? It wasn't clear. But the zombie didn't leave. Having lost consciousness from hunger, he woke up with a terrible headache. Fear. And hunger. Strange and too deep, something that had left from within. He immediately understood what it was.

Walking along empty roads, littered with cars with broken windows, to the next store, Minyard felt a presence. A sharp jerk backwards. The barrel of a machine gun was already pointed at the young man. Clearly not alive. He slowly made it clear he didn't want to, but had no choice.
(the rest is in the protocol)

The clothes were much older than the minyard's own. His T-shirt was torn, his sweater was unbuttoned, and his body was seriously wounded. His red hair was smeared with blood at the ends. Capillaries in his blue eyes had burst. The boy limped and wheezed softly, breaking the silence. A shot. But he managed to dodge, and the bullet missed. And even that didn't save him, because the boy foolishly tripped and fell, hitting the ground with a thud, apparently losing consciousness. Deciding not to waste any more bullets, the minyard left. But after a week and a half, the presence hadn't disappeared. The zombies seemed to flee from him, but the suffocating feeling of someone's gaze never went away.
Supplies were running low. Do another store search. After half an hour of exploring the city, I found the right one. The glass doors were broken. So, it was safe to go in.
A month ago, a fall damaged Neil's brain, but he didn't die. The nagging hunger had disappeared, and it seemed he was starting to understand things. What did he look like? Blond hair and hazel eyes. A black turtleneck, a backpack cinched at the back, zipped up to the chest. Military pants and boots. A pistol holster on the waistband. His face was bloodied, bandages stretched from his elbows to his wrists, his T-shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a wound. He was also holding an automatic rifle. And he clearly didn't smell. But curiosity was getting the better of him. Neil had been diligently dispersing him and the other brainless ones. But it seemed his surveillance had been noticed.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the tiles of the sub-shop. Minyard confidently approached Nila, heading straight for the vending machine. Neil, on the other hand, stared back, breathing heavily and snoring softly, but looking directly at Andrew. It seemed he realized that Josten was definitely not stupid. Just as Neil was about to be pinned to the wall, the blonde's quiet voice finally drifted through the air.
-You fucking bastard.
Neil frowned slightly, his voice sounding hoarse and pained.

• No, I just...
  The footsteps died down and the barrel of the machine gun pressed against the guy's cold chest.
  —What the hell are you following me for? Are you hungry? I'm not as stupid as you. You have 30 seconds to explain, corpse.