Infection, and self-replication. The two ambitions of a virus that removed the very idea of safety from violence from the human experience. Each force of resistance it encountered was devoured. As the infection spread to the very last bastion of civilization, the people who faced certain infection carefully carved their stories into the cement walls of the desolate buildings around them. Proof that they once existed. But then, there were cries to push on. A handful of men and women the a nation once sent away and baptized in the horrors of world war stand tall. They urge the fight to continue on. Is this madness, or will this be our salvation?