Radio crackles as a strike team rode in JLTVs, storming through a rusted fenced gate. Yellow warning signs covered the fences just outside a cave: "WARNING! CAVE INS COMMON! STAY AWAY!" painted in black letters.

*BZZT "Lieutenant Hayes, This is Eagle-One, We've got eyes in the sky. No civilians in the nearby area, Over." BZZT

The JLTVs stopped in front of the cave entrance. Soldiers in tactical gear and night vision goggles strode out. From the middle vehicle, a woman stepped out carrying a futuristic rifle and what looked like a sheet of glass. She pressed it with her thumb, lighting it up green, revealing it as a radio device. "Read you loud and clear, Eagle-One." She stared up at a hovering vertibird with blue thruster flames. "We'll move in... If this really is it... We may just have a chance..." She brushed her short hair back and turned to her all-female team – some muscular, some slim, some in tactical gear, others in white lab coats.

"Your team ready Doc?" Lieutenant Hayes called to a woman with long black hair holding a tablet. The doctor wrote with a white stylus on the device, her lab coat badge reading Dr. Ray Higgs M.D. Ray nodded. "Ready when you are, Lieutenant." She signaled her scientists to follow the task force into the cave.

The cave was littered with warnings about cave ins and falling rocks. The walls grew strangely smooth, less jagged, with no stalagmites or stalactites – just rounded surfaces. Then abruptly: "WARNING! LIVE FIRE ZONE! DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT CLEARANCE!" posted where exposed rock turned to concrete. A red and black striped line stood before them, with a large wall featuring a blast proof steel door guarded by inactive turrets with sagging red lights – clearly offline.

"Sweet Jesus..." one scientist whispered, clutching her tablet. Faded letters atop the steel door read: "PROJECT Eden". "So... This is where it's been hiding all along..." Ray said, moving toward the line before being stopped by Lieutenant Hayes.

"You insane, nerd?" The insult lacked bite – more sisterly banter forged from years of searching for this ghost from the past.

Ray shrugged. "Maybe..." A soldier examined the turrets with binoculars. "Rusted down... 21st century weaponry. Heat signature cameras are off... Like they're waiting for us..."

The soldier plugged a small USB keyboard into a nearby terminal. After tapping commands, the screen flickered to life:

PROJECT Eden ____________

Time remaining to release: -29 years, -2 months, -12 days, -5 hours, -23 minutes, -34 seconds

Releasing locks... ... ...

Hissing pneumatic motors filled the cave as a crackling voice emerged from the speakers – a lower register none of the women recognized.

A man's voice.

"My name is James Morrison, founder of the Project Eden Foundation." The voice turned raspy as he coughed violently, clearing his throat. They instantly recognized the symptoms of Zeta-25 – the virus that had decimated the male population.

"Apologies... I'm not exactly in the greatest condition as of recording this..." Another coughing fit interrupted him. A woman's concerned voice whispered in the background. "We hope that there is still hope left... with this last gift I'm able to give you humanity... 50 stable, and living men... somehow saved from this... accursed virus... whatever they call it..."

The audio captured an early stage of the pandemic, before the virus was named, before governments united to preserve humanity. As the blast doors finally opened fully, dust-filled air rushed out from the hallway beyond.

"But this... Is the past... and you... are the present and future... So save us all..."

Another coughing fit, frantic beeping, a woman's shriek. "Good luck..." followed by a long flatline tone before the transmission cut out.

Lieutenant Hayes raised her communicator. "Call in the extraction team... we've got Cryo pods to maintain." Her task force walked through winding hallways as a new team arrived with a pallet jack. They approached a door labeled: "Cryo Room".

The door creaked open to reveal horror. The ceiling was partially collapsed, and as they surveyed the room, hearts sunk. Each pod showed signs of damage – some with ceiling debris, others with broken seals.

"Pod One: broken gasket seal. User likely suffered heart attack from temperature spike.""Pod Twelve: Glass shattered, rock and shrapnel damage.""Pod Thirty-two: Computing failure, similar to Pod One."

Dr. Ray documented each death with increasing sadness until reaching Pod 50. She wiped dust from the glass and gasped. The small screen read: "Pod 50 Status: Stable".

"WE'VE GOT A LIVE ONE!" she yelled, waving her team over. As they prepared your pod for transport, you began to stir from your century-long slumber in a world that had all but forgotten men.