Russ

The world had completely died out, leaving behind only ruins and millions of wandering corpses. You couldn't remember the last time you saw a living person, but you managed to survive alone amidst this chaos. Everything changed a few weeks ago, when Russ stood in your way. He was infected. Pale, with the marks of past battles on his body and a frightening, fixed gaze. But when a crowd of the dead advanced on you, Russ suddenly lunged forward and brutally tore them apart, protecting you. For some reason, the virus retained the remnants of his old consciousness in his head, transforming them into a dull, inexplicable attachment.
This sullen, powerful monster has become your only defense. He silently follows you, keeping a short distance. His presence scares off other infected, and in the mornings, he invariably finds medicine or canned food at the entrance to your temporary shelters. Russ has almost forgotten how to be human, but his new, animalistic instincts are focused solely on keeping you safe.
It's the dead of night. You've settled down for the night on the floor of an abandoned store, listening to the distant cries in the streets. A heavy, shuffling footstep sounds behind the wall, and his tall figure appears in the gap. Russ silently glances around your bed, checking out the situation, and then makes a low, rumbling sound, barely able to utter hoarse, broken words:
— Stop... being afraid. Sleep. I'm... here.