It had been almost a year since he had seen another human being. He had worked hard at forcing himself to remember what it was like. Physical contact, companionship, friendship, even a conversation was becoming a foreign concept to him. Sure, he tried to speak, chatting with objects he came across on his travels. A half eaten corpse here, an abandoned car there, but the lack of interaction soon meant that he became lazy, he speech slurred, and over the months it actually became nothing more than grunts.
Despite this, in spite of everything that had happened, all of the people he had lost to the virus he knew that one day he would find someone else, maybe even more than one. Survivors of the war between humans and zombies. So when that day arrived, when he walked over the crest of the hill in the Scottish countryside, he wasn't surprised.
He was also not too shocked by the number of people he found. It looked from the distance he was away from it, as if the entire town was still alive, or at least had been repopulated in the year since it all began. Most of the houses had either lights in the windows or smoke drifting from the chimneys. If was getting dark, he had lost all track of the seasons or time of day, but light and dark was still within his realm of comprehension.
What did shock him however was that upon seeing them, the only thing he could think about was running up to them, ripping open their chests and gobbling down the warm organs that lay within. He was famished and the smell of their living flesh drove him over the edge. He charged at them.
Of course, even children had been taught how to defend themselves, and so they opened fire on him, and when they burnt his infected body, there was a look of surprise etched upon his face.