Robert was stranded, 150 miles away from the nearest safehouse. He had little food, less water, and his car had broken down. He only had 9 hours before the infection that had taken over the world would get to him and turn him into one of the lifeless beings that walked the earth. It was 10 years after the first outbreak, it was common knowledge that the process of becoming one of the floaters of the world was a painful one. The infection took 9 hours to get to you and turn you into a floater when you don't have a gasmask. The air filter on Roberts mask was about to become overused and he didn't have a new one.
With his limited time he had to make it 150 miles to the next safehouse, one of the few places in the world where the airborne infection didn't effect. These places are sacred to the few survivors that are left in the world. He wasted an hour of his limited time in an attempt to fix the broken down car, with not a single drop of luck on his side. On the side of the road he found a Harley-Davis. Running over to it as to not waste more time he hopped on and prayed to God that it still worked and had fuel in it. His prayers were answered when engine roared to life and he started riding. The boom of the engines first use in ages attracted all the nearby floaters to where he was. Some floating towards him, others shambled, and the ones he was most worried about were the ones running right for him. He twisted the right handlebar and off he went, if he was lucky he would be able to make it about halfway to the safehouse with about four and a half hours left on his timer.
He felt his heart sink and stomach fill with dread when he saw the world's rarest and most dangerous form of floater, the tank. It heard him far before it saw him. Tanks have the best hearing of all the floaters but they also have the worst eyesight. The tank slammed the ground with arms and fists of pure muscle and infection. Cracks started to form in the street, Robert nearly avoided them but his back tire hit one of them sending him off the side of the bike. He knew well enough that now his only chance to survive was to run towards the tank and go under it. Tanks were extremely large, blown up in size due to the infection that killed so many, but it left them slow.
He charged with all his might, running with every ounce of energy he could manage. Just before the tank slammed down on the street for the second time he rolled under it and ran off in the direction he intended to on with his bike. Using the broken ground and the terrible agility of the tank to his advantage, he jumped and rolled to escape. After 3 miles of being chased by something that looked like David's Goliath it finally lost interest in him and walked off. He only had 3 hours left on his timer and he had too much of a travel on him. The infection was starting to take over. He felt his eyelids start to become heavy. The last thing he heard before he passed out was the roar of an engine coming from in front of him.