Nathan Reynolds - my first survivor to make it past day two.
After a week of running about a town with no weapons, massive hordes, and constant goddamn rain, he’d managed to scrounge together enough supplies to repair a SWAT truck to escape the town. Between the lack of viable stores to loot (the town ran on coffee shops and bars, plus one clothing store) and the sightings of fungaloids to the east, there wasn’t much to stick around for. Triumphantly, with a quarter tank of gas, he made for the nearest highway. Out of the corner of his eye as he left the town, though, he caught a glimpse of a flaming eye battling with some stray zombies. A chill went through Nathan’s body as he drove by, and coughing started soon after. Having escaped the city in a rapid manner, he’d fallen behind on sleep, so he downed some cough syrup and climbed into the recently-installed cot. After the coughing still woke him, he took another dose of cough medicine and some ambien, the combination of the two (thanks to lightweight) kept him asleep through ten hours of progressively worse coughing, vomiting of grey sludge, and eventually - horror of horrors - coughing out spore clouds, followed by mind-numbing pain as my arms exploded.
He was promptly killed in an attempt to raid a pharmacy in the next town, being armless, in blinding pain in spite of all tramadol to the contrary, and his coughing alerting every zombie and its mother to his location. Dunno if anything there would’ve saved him, though.