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"The Way to win in a battle according to military science is to know the rhythms of the specific opponents, and use rhythms that your opponents do not expect, producing formless rhythms from rhythms of wisdom."
-Myamoto Muzashi

In 1988 the US Army started a project code named, "Liberi Fatalis." The project consisted of four platoons of forty-five men, each man was injected with a classified enzyme and a growth hormone designed to allow the soldier to thrive in a violent combat environment. At least that's what they told the test subjects. In reality the injection was a battle sustainment formula. It was an enzyme and a growth hormone designed to allow the soldier to fight through horrific wounds to fulfill the given mission even if the heart stopped. After the subjects showed no positive results the program had its funding cut and everything was forgotten.

The injections stayed with the soldiers and though they forgot, the enzyme flourished and on February 10^th each one of the soldiers mysteriously expired and to the worlds horror they stood back up. The enzymes and hormones had instilled in them a hunger not for combat but for food and self preservation. In the first days of the rise over eighty people fell to their onslaught. Numerous police agencies moved in and eventually destroyed them. The numerous casualties now carrying the enzyme from bite wounds sustained from contact with the doomed soldiers also began to turn. No one knew why they craved flesh. The scientists that worked on the project said the injections were supposed to allow the soldier to remain cognizant even when the heart stops but a more animalistic nature had surfaced in the test soldiers and their victims. One turned to four and then four to twenty then twenty to a hundred. The plague was upon the world.

The hospitals were hit hard and soon became war zones. Doctors and medics were in short supply as they were on the frontlines and were being attacked and reanimated as they fulfilled their oath to help the sick. The police and rescue workers were the next to fall as the streets became wastelands with packs of roving reanimated dead prowling for human meat. They not only wandered but hunted. The tactic was a simple mass attack and then feed pattern. They operated like wolves or jackals and it unnerved everyone. Martial law swept the planet as the plague reached every known shore. A few cities were nuked to contain the large number of reanimated dead but it was too late. The planet was theirs.

The army set up huge fire bases throughout the country. Known as Aegis bases, these huge structures were enclosed in ten foot cement and steel reinforced walls. Aircraft and infantry units were meshed together to form new air cavalry units charged with rescuing civilians from the thousands of rescue shelters set up throughout the country. Aegis one is one of these bases. The base housed an airbase designed to launch the numerous rotor wing aircraft that supported the main base as well as housing a division of soldiers and additional support personnel in underground bunkers. The revamped air cavalry division was quickly assigned the new AV-22 Osprey aircraft and the older BlackHawk helicopters. The Osprey was the new progenitor for the Boeing corporation. A fixed wing cargo plane that had rotating propellers that could rotate and allow it to land and takeoff like a helicopter.

Alex Paxton sat staring at his desk. He thought back to when he was a child. A friend had a pet boa constrictor and one day invited him over. Alex remembered when his friend threw in a mouse. The snake looked so unfeeling and yet menacing as it took little notice of the mouse. The mouse on the other hand cowered in the corner. He remembered how trapped it must have felt. The snake attacked and crushed and swallowed the mouse to his revulsion. Now he was the mouse. He slapped a clip into his Ruger forty-five caliber pistol and chambered a round. "I am cornered but I'm not a mouse. We are strong and alive and we not afraid." He put the pistol back down. He stared hard into the mirror to his right. His weathered face made him look older than his thirty-two years of age. He saw the face of a man who had seen too much. His blond hair cut close to the scalp he looked menacing as he stared at his reflection.

Captain Alex Paxton began speaking into his voice recorder. " Twenty third June 23:33 hours." He continued. "I have taken command of the 4^th of the 8^th cavalry division after our current Commanding Officer major William Keiller was the victim of aircraft failure, he survived the crash but was subsequently eaten alive by the horde of dead that gathered at the sound of the crash.This is the fifth Commanding officer we have lost this year. I hope my luck isn't as shitty as his but I guess I got that staff position I was looking for." While laughing the Captain continued to record. "We are holding Aegis one. Aegis two and four are in constant contact and faring well but Aegis three reported being overrun. How the hell do you overrun a fire base with a division of troops and aircraft? It must have been a rogue military unit no one else would have the guts or the firepower to try. All air assault troops and aircraft minus the Major's are ready to begin rescue operations on rescue stations that cluster the country. Our area of responsibility is the West coast. The problem is that the rescue shelters are being overrun faster than we can put them up. We are their only chance of survival but we are not going to knock down one of the walls and let 'em walk in, the National Guard tried that now they are just a memory of the out dated practice of helping their fellow man. My philosophy is when the dead walk the air cav helps itself everything else is trivial. I'm not going to ask my men to die trying to save a bunch of civilians. This situation is so far from anything ever seen. I feel my main mission is preservation of humanity. Suicide missions are not an option. I have seen too many soldiers get horribly killed trying to save the so called leaders of this country. I'll never lay down my life to save some asshole politician so they can hole up in some nice safe bunker while they send obedient soldiers off to their doom!" The Captain switched off the recorder by slamming his finger into the stop button. Now fuming he called his Executive officer Ken Evers. "Mister Evers have we received any transmissions today?". "Yes sir! Paradise lost reestablished communication and we have their position." Evers answered. Paradise lost was the name given to rescue station 121. It contained the survivors of two nursing schools and the occupants of a day care center. The plague swept through the West coast unusually fast. As it hit LA these students were forced to run for their lives and eventually found the shelter. The nursing students always seductively asked when would the strong soldiers come and save them? They must have thought that would make the Cav soldiers move faster. They were damn right. If there was ever a mission the men were set on participating in, this was it and zero hour was fast approaching. The builders of these fire bases were smart enough to move all personnel quarters and operation centers below ground. The stench of the dead was unbearable and most soldiers that were on guard duty for an extended period of time would wear their gas masks. Days were spent performing drills or equipment and aircraft checks. We often do short recon missions but after what happened to the Major we keep that to a minimum. Except for paradise lost and the other Aegis bases there were no more incoming transmissions. It was time to go to L.A. roughly forty miles away and rescue those people, if for anything to give some hope to the troops. This became our top priority. Hell! It may be the end of the world but we had to have some happiness. The only way to get them out would be a combined air assault air rescue mission.

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