Samuel Makariy

Yugoslavia stopped existing in 1991. The wars that followed the breakup where Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Serbia came to exist were brutal and created enormous numbers of orphans. Bosnia especially saw civilian massacres, ethnic cleansing, siege warfare. A child losing his family to this conflict and ending up in an orphanage is very believable.
One story among many. Nothing special. Nothing that really stands out over anyone else's equally tragic story.
Two brothers, twins, survived one of these many tragedies, but not the rest of their family, like many others that ended at that orphanage that, nowadays, isn't more than a pile of rubble that reminds passersby of nothing in specific. Just a pile of rubble that once was something for someone.
Maybe it's because of how unimportant, and how unremarkable the two brothers were, that they didn't expect that suited man... The man of the white suit, to take them to his home, raise them and give them a chance at life far away from the land they would, many years later, almost forget was once their home, and away from all the sorrow that once ruined their lives.

No, the twins grew up in the United States, under the wing of a successful yet reserved businessman that saw the fall of the Soviet Union as an opportunity to move west and learn to blend in with those in The Land Of The Eagle, and they grew up happy, with every single one of their needs covered and every single one of their wants satisfied... Should they put the work and the effort into it.
Of course, the Man In The White Suit, Mr. Makariy, was an strict man and he wanted nothing but the best out of his children, and nothing but the best for them, but he knew how the cruel world would crush them should he let them out, should he open the doors to his mansion to free them, without teaching them how to withstand everything reality would throw at them.
The best teachers, the best instructors, the healthiest diet, an active lifestyle... Free time was spent studying and training, and harsher obligations were the reward to doing a good job.
And yet, both of the twins, one more than the other, thrived in this strict life that had been laid on their plates.

At eighteen years old, both of them signed up, enlisted and left home to enlist.
Mr. Makariy had taught them respect, obedience and discipline, and yet, their harsh uprising -harsh but full of pleasures- hadn't turned them into mindless puppets without personality.
That was the last thing the man wanted for his children, after all.
While the older one (older merely by half a minute) grew colder, easier going and more focused, Samuel had a heart that threatened with pumping out of his heart.
Too big for his chest, his smile was almost sickening to those around him that had the honor, and definitely the disgrace, of going through their military years with him.

Capable just like his brother, and yet a much softer, kinder soul, he thrived when he enlisted in the National Guard and saw his brother, the older twin, go up in the ranks in his respective branch of the military while he kept to himself, doing his work, focusing on his training without any further ambitions than to become something, someone, capable of doing his part and adding something to the shared effort.
Because Samuel wanted to help people. He completed his training, specializing in aid in combat and retrieval of injured and maimed, and just as 2001 hit, he was sent to Afghanistan, offered a role in infantry due to his excellent results in all of his physical tests... But, given he had a choice, he chose Civil Affairs.
And so, he spent seven years trying to build a bridge between the military and the locals. Seven years, with several deployments, and being forced several times to return to the US to "rest" from the war zone, periods of time he made sure to make as short as possible, signing up for redeployment as soon as he was allowed.
Seven years learning how to read people's faces, tones, how to know when someone's violence was nothing but a product of their situation, of their circumstances... And how those most desperate were those that needed help the most.
Seven years where his only purpose was to be useful even if it meant risking his life every day, or learning how to be better by studying hard and working harder when his rather heroic, but concerning self sacrificial feats earned him an early trip back home.
That's what he wanted to do, even if he had to go through the neverending grief of seeing reconstruction projects destroyed, friends killed not even in battle, but tending the wounded in the medical tent, when those clearly marked, universal red crosses painted atop the improvised hospitals acted as a target rather than a plea for help.
Even when his job stopped being so much taking those in need out of the combat zone and became assisting, and then replacing, the volunteer doctors and nurses when the situation was too dangerous for civilians to stay around.

And even if in those seven years he found his hands stained with blood, not once had he regretted doing it. Even if those seven years had been the most painful he had gone through in his entire life, he wanted to stay, he wanted to help, and he wanted to see the faces of all those that he was leaving behind, because he knew he was better off helping out there than rotting in base. And with his final promotion to Staff Sergeant E6, he was gifted something else:
A mandatory leave. A break of one whole year, twice as long as his usual mandatory leaves, given his supervisors concerns for his mental health.

And as much as he wanted to argue, to protest and talk back, the news soon arrived to his residence.

Mr. Makariy had died in 2008, and that's when he knew he had to go back to the States.

A silent funeral, small, private, something no one that knew the man would've expected from him, was the day he met an old friend of his father.
Another man of wealth and discipline, one born in the swamps of Louisiana, that put his hand over Samuel's shoulder and talked about all the things he had heard from his time in Afghanistan, and all the orders he disobeyed, always in order to come back with just another injured civilian or brother in arms from the clouds of dust and falling rubble.
Being the son of a wealthy man with contacts had its perks, and yet, on the drive to Lafayette, Louisiana, Makariy's name wasn't mentioned once. Samuel had made himself a reputation, and that old man only needed to mention the 256th once, and what they did, for him to be enamoured with the idea.

Technically, legally, he was taking that mental health break.
Samuel knew his "enthusiasm" was well known among his supervisors, and he knew well that he'd be monitored. They couldn't keep him from signing up to volunteer programs or keep him from aiding as a civilian in American territory, but they'd absolutely keep him out of any and all attempts to follow his new sponsor's recommendations of attempting to join the 256th.
This sponsor, though, never planned to bring Samuel to Louisiana to make him sit on the half of the riches Mr. Makariy left for him! And so, for the first time ever, Samuel had time to get bored, to think, and to wonder what else he could do, what else he ever wanted to do.
Many nights walking around in his room or spent at his balcony, remembering, made him go back to those early years at his father's mansion. The night escapades, all those times he snuck into the kitchen to watch the staff work on the day's menu...

The very same day this came to mind and it was put into words, Sammy's sponsor found him a job at one of the many restaurants he was a patron in.
Two years had passed. Two years that were meant to be just one, enough to get his supervisors to believe he had enough of a break from the battlefield, but two years that turned into the two years where he pursued his other passion.
He went from dishwasher boy to sous-chef in those two years of dedicated hard work and genuine enjoyment for losing himself within the flames, every single night his workaholic self spent at the restaurant.

And as soon as he realized how much time had passed, one day like any other he enjoyed the sounds of the city from his balcony, he enlisted on the 256th, confident that his new life, his sponsor and his own reputation would speak for him.
So, not much time had passed since he formerly joined until August 27th, 2010.
Samuel never stood out, except when food was to be served and he was the most wanted man this side of the Misssipi river. Except when someone was going through a rough time and he was there to sit down in silence and offer a shoulder to rest on.

And so, when he was called into action, he didn't doubt it for a single second, following the 256th in the effort to aid those in need.
"This We'll Defend with Duty, Humanity and Respect."
He lived by that motto during those dark days, where every day that passed between August 27th and September 5th made everything look more dire than the previous night.
He didn't see his first walker until many days into the outbreak.
He had stayed back, helping those that couldn't walk, helping organize the rations, manning the kitchen and shouting orders over the whines, the pleas and the cries...
Until he saw his first walker.
Until he saw how it tore a limping man's throat with its bare teeth.
Until he couldn't move, frozen, not out of fear for his life but that kind of fear that starts deep inside your very core until it takes over your whole being.

Samuel had to be moved away, and was forced into his bunk for the rest of September 8th, only to be taken out of it by force the next day.
He found himself boarding the Path To Zenith, still disoriented, and still somehow carrying an old woman over his shoulder.
He doesn't even remember what Captain Erickson said to Captain Giroux.
He only remembers getting on the cruise, looking back to the city, and seeing the first bombs fall.