Yes, but at what cost?

Your glance over your shoulder has cost you dearly. Whatever you ran into you slammed into running full speed, and your head spins as you attempt to recover. You hear a male groan before your vision clears, but you’re already pushing yourself to your feet. The scraping of the Infected’s sneakers is too close… far too close…

“Hey… wait,” an unfamiliar voice says as you rise, sprinting down the street along your previous course. Glancing back for just a moment, you see a man in a filthy, raggedy police uniform lying on the ground, clearly much more shaken than you by the collision. You’re not surprised it hurt, though. He’s a large man, clearly in good shape, even if seemingly not very bright. He’s on his knees, reaching out a hand towards you and shouting, “Help me up!”

A glance just over his shoulder tells you that it’s too late. The Infected is practically upon him.