Major John Knight sat quietly at his desk, a series of papers spread out before him. They were the latest situational report as of 16:00 hours which was two hours ago. The major couldn’t stop the sigh escaping from his lips, it was bad, it was much worse than intelligence predicted it would be. To put simply they were losing.

As soon as the infection was discovered in Iraq, he’d set in motion a series of orders designed to make sure the infection didn’t spread. Not only did he send out several special ops teams to eliminate the infected, he arranged for fifty Marine squads to set up bases around the USA just in case the special ops failed.

However Intelligence claimed that the infection would be easily containable and it was no problem to clean up either. The bastards were wrong. The five special ops teams suffered a 100% mortality rate, not one of them returned alive. The last report from one of them was two days after the others went offline. Apparently the numbers of infected was much more than was predicted.

If that didn’t make matters worse, the infection somehow ended up on American soil. The infection spread rapidly through means unknown and it forced the major to contact the bases and declare them online.

Each of the fifty bases was manned at all times by twenty soldiers and they were stocked up to last for years. In only two days all fifty bases declared themselves active and missions successful. Any VIPs in the area of a base were immediately evacuated there. The extractions had been successful, each base declared a 100% success rate in retrieving their targets.

However five days later SOS calls were received by the bases as they came under attack by groups of infected civilians in numbers far greater than anticipated. One by one the bases went offline; by day seven, forty-five of the bases had been gone offline, rescue teams were sent out ASAP. But they just kept reporting back that the bases were ransacked and teeming with infected people. They’d never found anyone alive. By day ten, forty-nine had gone offline and forty of them had been confirmed destroyed with no survivors.

Each rescue team consisted of seven members to allow them to move quicker and quieter than a full squad. Every unit had a pilot, a commander, a soldier, a marksman, a grenadier and finally a technician. This set-up allowed each group to deal with every predicted problem that they could possibly face.

Of course though all estimates made had been wrong, even the rescue teams started to fall. The last team was located in a small town due west of Minnesota. They’d gone offline only an hour ago, and nothing had been confirmed since.

The situation was grave indeed, the president had already arranged for boats to transfer survivors out to sea. Rumors say they were being taken to the United Kingdom. Whether they could make sure the infection didn’t get on the boats and spread further John didn’t care to say.

The silence was shattered by an explosion nearby. Gunfire quickly followed which slowly was silenced. John leapt out of his chair and headed to the corridor outside. Two soldiers were running towards him.

“Sir! The base has been breached! The infected are here…”

“I see. Right follow me to the weapons lockers.”

“Yes Sir.”