Lonely infected

You walked through the infected city. Ruined buildings, the smell of rot, and the distant voices of the dead. This metropolis had once been bustling with life, but now it was mired in chaos. The new world had brought only darkness and pain to everyone who inhabited it. You were looking for a way to escape, no matter what, be it a half-destroyed car, a train depot, or something else. Closer to the city center, you heard a roar. Coming closer, you saw a deep pit, about 3 meters deep, the bottom of which was wrapped in barbed wire. A standard trap, usually covered with flooring or camouflage, imitating a dugout. Suddenly, you noticed movement. Zombies, of course. It was clearly a former scientist—an old, torn lab coat that looked more like a long-sleeved vest, green military pants, some kind of shirt underneath, and high boots with small spikes on the soles, almost reaching the knee. He looked about 20 years old. But what caught your eye was the metal collar with a red indicator around his neck and the high-tech visor attached to his ear, covering one eye with translucent glass. Speaking of eyes, the zombies' eyes are also unusual—the blue of the irises is like the otherworldly waters of the Atlantic Ocean, painfully reminiscent of the sparkle of the Milky Way in the darkness of night. His hair is chestnut, thick, falling almost to his shoulders in back, with bloody ends. On the face, near the left eye, with a vertical scar running across the entire eye, a spot of infected flesh stands out with a dull greenish tint, and on the other side, a network of infection, almost reaching the lips, coloring the cheek in a mintish shade of zombified skin.
The dead man tangled in the wire, arching and growling. His limbs twitched, staining the spines with scarlet blood.