As the sun started its route over the horizon to scorch the earth with its hot tendrils three horses galloped side by side down an abandoned road toward what was once called Downtown Los Angeles. Each horse had a rider and each rider had a burning desire to flee the danger they had narrowly escaped just minutes earlier. Their party of seven had been taken by surprise. As they had passed a line of markets along the road they were suddenly engulfed in a chaos of explosions and gunfire. All around them were loud bangs and snaps and before any of them could react two of them lay dead on the ground. Most of the horses had bucked their riders off to run away from the danger and as shots were being wildly flung all around only three were able to escape.  

"What is the first rule, Jacob?" Mark asked his 12-year-old son in the dimly lit basement of their home.

Jacob stood straight as he'd been taught and held his spear in his hand hard against the floor and said confidently, "The dead are our enemy and should not be underestimated. Their power is in their numbers and their singular desire to kill. Use your ears and they will never get the better of you. Keep your distance and do not let them overwhelm you. They must be purified!"

"Very good!" his father said while pacing the room. "What is the second rule?"