You know in those Zombie movies when the people are running from the zombie hordes? They go for a mall or police station and there's always one experienced tuff guy who brings up the rear to make sure everyone makes it? He'll kill a pile of the zombies but in the process he always gets a scratch on the back of his hand or a bite on the shoulder.

A couple hours later he's laying on the floor, skin turning gray, already room temperature, and he can't get up.

"Help me get up,", he says, "I've got a plan and I think we can still take these zombies." Then he wonders why all the other guys are circling around him with shotguns and hockey sticks.

Comair is that guy.