Screw you, Max.
Organize before they rise, eh? Good enough advice, but Masenak had a bone to pick with some of Brand's other ideas. How would he fare if it actually happened?
Ibram Masenak was no soldier. Not yet at least. He was counting down the time until that day would arrive. The 18 year old, graduating senior had 128 days left. Then he'd get on a plane, headed for Ft. Knox and his combined Basic/Armor Training. Of course, even the best laid plans change.
The world was starting on fire. At 0001 Zulu time on March 22, everything changed. Ibram was at work; it was a slow night. He didn't notice anything amiss. Hell, his city didn't notice anything amiss. Once the restaurant was shut down for the night, Masenak went home, as per usual.
It was a somewhat precarious drive. The city was still in the process of cleaning up after the yearly flood. Parts of his road was diked, with gravel mounds crossing the pump tubes. Taking an accursedly low-bumpered Grand Am over a rutted hill was never fun. With Holy Diver in the background, he slowly picked his way home.
It was a nice enough house, with the river in the back yard and more than enough space for a family of four. Of course, one couldn't tell from the outside that half of the structure had been gutted after it had been submerged by the previous year's water. At the moment, the current year's water was slowly receding after a hearteningly low crest. No damage to the house.
Everything was dark, except for the lonely streetlight by the driveway. His home was in the middle of a trio of houses. Masenak pulled as far in the driveway as he could (the sandbags across the driveway hadn't been removed yet) and turned the car off, cutting the first verse of Carry on Wayward Son midway through. As he got out, he was greeted by a long line of meows. The black cat, Joey, had turned out to welcome Ibram home.
Giving his cat a greeting, he walked over and checked the ditch facing his house. The water had receded a bit since he had left for work. It was just about off of the stake his father had pounded in. Looks like they survived the year's flood.
Joey didn't particularly care to stop meowing, so he was unceremoniously picked up and carried to the door. Masenak set the cat down on the front step and let him inside. Masenak was Masenak to pretty much everyone he knew. His family used his first name and just about no one else. He wasn't sure what the cats called him. It was just him and the cat herd for the night. His parents and sister were visiting friends in the next state. He had been stuck home, having forgotten to ask for the time off.
Masenak's family had a full herd of five cats. Several of them, Joey included, accosted him for food as he walked inside. He put out two cans of food, spread over three plates, for them. Settling himself on the couch, he turned on the TV. A few hours of playing Kingdom Hearts later and considering the possibility of a KH Fan-fiction (how would heartless react to liberal amounts of firepower?), Masenak did something that would save his life.
He turned off his PlayStation and idly flicked to cable. There was a special news bulletin on, strange enough for a midnight. The camera crew had set up somewhere downtown. A mob was clashing against a storefront window. A haggard looking reporter talked about several reports of violence throughout the city and the text at the bottom read "City Police: Stay inside"
The camera jerkily swung to the right, then faced the night sky. The feed was replaced by a generic "please stand by" a moment later. Playing with the remote, Masenak was able to rewind a bit, stopping right before the camera had spun upwards. There was a man's face. It was torn up and covered with blood.
"Bloody hell . . ."