Three Years Later, Somewhere in Nevada
The Nevada sun was rising to it's normal place in the noon sky. The Mohave Desert stood vast and empty. Heat waves slithered over the asphalt of I-15.
A Tan Hayes M1030 dirt bike cruised down the highway. Large saddle bags were draped over the back of the bike and the gas tank. A gigantic tan backpack was strapped to the rear. A rifle scabbard was attached to the front suspension fork and held a powerful sniper rifle.
The rider was clad in multicam BDU trousers and combat shirt. Around his waist was an OD green battle belt. A Colt 1911 was tucked in a holster on his right side. Also on the belt was a utility pouch, a rip-away first aid pouch, two grenades, a KA-BAR knife, and two double stack mag pouches that held an M4 mag and a 1911 mag each. Hanging off the belt and strapped to his thigh was an additional four M4 magazines. On his chest was an OD green chest rig. On this was six M4 magazines, three more utility pouches, and two more 1911 magazines. He wore a tan assault pack on his back. Slung to his side was a custom H&K 416 with a silencer, PEQ laser, tac light, foregrip, and 1-4x Specter DR scope. The riders face was concealed under a shemagh and tinted goggles.
He came to a stop on a hill looking upon a structure in the distance. He took a pair of binoculars from his vest. From what he could see it was a hotel. Judging by what he could see the general area was clear. So he put away his binoculars and quickly rode down to the hotel.
The closer the building came into view the more it became obvious humans were there not too long ago. The rider stopped the bike just outside what once was a parking lot. There were signs of a lot of destruction. All over the place there were piles of ash and burned crow carcasses. The rider lowered the kick stand and dismounted the bike. He brought his rifle to ready position and walked amongst the carnage. His first stop was to investigate an abandoned bus. The windshield was smashed in and there was copious amounts of blood throughout cabin. The blood seemed fresh, no more than 48 hours old. Seeing that there was nothing of use within the rider left the bus to investigate further. The signs in the sand suggested there were several large vehicles had been there a couple days ago, at least one of them had been a big rig.
The next place of interest was within the motel. The rider stood in the door way listening for movement. He brought his rifle up to ready position and proceeded inside. He moved slowly and quietly, checking each corner delicately with absolute precision. The building was utterly deserted. The rider made his way back outside.
He managed to climb up to the roof and analyzed the horizon. Seeing that he was clear he removed his assault pack and retrieved a small hand crank radio. After giving the gyro a few times he powered it on. He slowly turned a dial moving through frequencies. He paused when he heard some words through the static.
This is Clair Redfield's convoy broadcasting to any survivors.
Clair Redfield's broadcasting to any survivors, does anyone read?
We are moving along Interstate 15 en route to Las Vegas.
If you are mobile, meet us in Vegas.
The signal was faint and full of static. The rider concluded he was just on the edge of broadcasting range. He quickly got off the roof and sprinted to his vehicle. He threw his leg over while starting up the bike. "Not too far behind you now Alice." he mumbled to himself, as he rode of toward Las Vegas.