Johannes Waldebert Havenshire is a 45 year old medical doctor specializing in public health. Born in Appalachia in the Southern United States, he came from humble roots. His excellent handle on his academics led him to a prestigious military university, and later, medical school. Bookish, humble, and soft-spoken, he never married, and his dedication was to his work in public health.
Choosing not to enlist as a medical officer of the military, he attended seminary to become a priest in Rome. After his ordination, he was chosen by the Church to represent the Vatican as an observer in WHO. He worked for some time as a field scientist for WHO, in which capacity he worked in dangerous locales, usually closely with UN peacekeepers. He was named Monsignor by the Vatican for his work in virology.
It was in Chenarus during the collapse of the civilized world that he was captured, together with his fellow specialists, physicians, and attendants on the research team after being separated from Peacekeepers. His captors were a group of Russian occupants gone rogue militant. Those who the militants deemed as not useful or too risky, they set loose in infected cities or found a reason to execute. As a priest who did not have very much physical strength and was generally pliable, his captors saw him as a low-risk asset. The sacramental faculty of a priest is valuable to the Russian who thinks the world may be ending, after all.
But not everyone in the militant group had been immune, of course. Over the course of an exceedingly short amount of time, their compound in the occupancy was turning just like the rest of the province. In the rancor that ensued, J.W. fled with only the shirt and denim that they had afforded him. Though tried as he did to get some basic loot from the base, the infected and the splintered group had made it far too dangerous for a weak man with no direct combat experience.
At the present day, he is running towards what he thinks is the direction of the UN compound - decimated, no doubt. He hopes to find some group of the remnants where he can practice his medical and priestly craft in exchange for food and protection. He has no clue what has happened in the world during his capture, but he knows that it will never be the same again.
Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
Times change, and we must change with them.