He pushed open the lab door. The room was dark. An unnoticed buzzing. He went on getting dressed in the corner: An orange suit. Sneakers. And his government issue safty helment, but little did he suspect the head-crab to be hiding on the inside of the helmet, just waiting to sink its bacteria born mutagens down into his unassuming brain.

Hours later he had managed his way out of the facility, his bike was picking up speed. It would be an all-night bike rider marathon for Dave Osmand, the newly born alien-zombie.