• He was dreaming, or at least he thought he was. The images within this sleeping mind were so vivid, it seemed like he was living in his memories. He was standing on the front lawn of his childhood home in Sacramento, California, the warm rays of the afternoon sun warming his Caucasian skin. The smell of the fresh cut grass filled his nostrils as he strode towards the wooden door. Reaching out, he turned the brass handle, gently eased the door open, and stepped inside. Suddenly, the air grew cold and the golden glow of the sun disappeared behind a thick layer of threatening gray clouds. Torrents of freezing rain began to plummet from the sky, and every once in a while there was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder rattled the windows.

    He heard a sound coming from within the depths of the house, like some kind of animal was rustling around among the various household objects. Curious as to what it could be, he flipped on his pocket flashlight and cautiously crept down the hallway towards the living room. “Hello?” he quietly called out to the darkness, “Is anyone there?” There was another rustling sound and he pointed the flashlight’s beam towards its source. Finding nothing, he continued on through the room, only to stop a few seconds later. He sensed a presence behind him and he spun around, only to come face to face with an incredibly pale-faced man. The stranger’s ragged body was crisscrossed with bloody gashes, onyx colored eyes staring blankly off into the distance. As he looked closely at the stranger’s face, he realized that the man bore a striking resemblance to someone from his long lost past. “Dad?” he asked, confusion growing in his mind. He knew that was impossible. His parents had died in the first few days of the invasion.

    The stranger’s vacant eyes suddenly met his. “The end is near at hand, “the stranger said in a monotone voice, crimson blood trickling from the corners of his mouth as he spoke, “and soon, you must sacrifice a life to save the many, for you are the chosen one. The end is near at hand.”

    28-year-old Ethan Hawk woke with a start and bolted upright, his entire body slick with sweat. His green eyes glanced at his surroundings, thankfully finding himself on his cot within the twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot confines of his sleeping quarters. Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart, he placed his face in his hands and rubbed his throbbing forehead. The dreams were becoming more and more frequent, and if he couldn’t get them to stop soon, Ethan felt that he would explode.

    The digital watch sitting on a crate next to his cot beeped insistently and Ethan reached over, picked it up, and studied the tiny display. Six o’clock a.m.; he’d be late for morning chow if he didn’t get moving. After shaking his head rapidly to make sure all the cobwebs were out of his mind, he stood up and proceeded to change into his standard U.S. military jumpsuit. Once he clipped his M9 service pistol onto his belt, Ethan pressed a button on the control panel and the thick gray door hissed open and into the opposite side of the entryway.

    The hallway outside of Ethan’s quarters didn’t have as much foot traffic as it usually did this time of the day, so he didn’t have much trouble making his way through the crowds. As he took a hard right turn to a main corridor, he heard someone calling his name from further down the hallway. He turned around a felt a smile come to his face as he recognized the black haired, bronze skinned woman hurrying towards him. “Hey.” She said when she got nearer, “You headed to the mess hall?”

    “Sure am.” Ethan replied, “All the best food’s probably gone by now, though.”

    The woman shrugged, “Eh, doesn’t matter. I’m so hungry right now, I could eat a cardboard box if I had to.”

    Ethan laughed and the two of them continued to work towards the mess hall. He and the woman, Sergeant Samantha Reyes, had been best friends since grade school, becoming more like brother and sister than anything else. They had gone through Marine boot camp together in their late teen, and had completed more missions than Ethan even bothered to count. If there was anyone in the world that Ethan would trust enough to watch his back in a tight spot, it’d be Samantha.

    “Busy night?” Ethan questioned, studying Samantha’s combat armor stained with splotches of purple blood with a raised eyebrow.

    “Yeah, you could say that.” Samantha answered, “Got sent out with a couple other guys to go scavenge up some more supplies from an old department store, and ended up getting ambushed halfway there. Managed to hold out, but let me tell you, it was too close for my comfort. Had to shank one with my knife when it tried to jump me…hence the paint job.”

    They took another left and walked through the double doors of the mess hall. Immediately, the vocal noises of hundreds of people pounded in Ethan’s ears as he and Samantha made their way towards the food counter. The mess hall was over a hundred and fifty yards in length, large enough to hold an entire squadron of M1 Abrams Tanks inside and still have room to spare. Along the long columns of metal tables sat soldiers bearing the designations of every branch in the U.S. military chatting amongst themselves, and every once in a while, Ethan would hear a roar of laughter rip through the drone of conversation.

    After Ethan and Samantha received their trays of standard C-rations, they picked a vacant space and took a seat across from each other. “So, did you finally get some shut eye last night?” Samantha asked as she shoveled a forkful of food into her mouth.

    Ethan shook his head, “Not very much. I had that same dream last night, the one with my father. He keeps telling me that ‘I’m the one’ and I’ll need to ‘sacrifice a life to save many’, and I have absolutely no idea what he’s meaning.”

    “Well, I’m not a shrink or anything, but being cooped up in here is starting to get to you.” Samantha said, “You need some fresh air. I knew from the getgo that General Connor’s decision to put you on sick leave was gonna be bad for you sanity. A guy like you needs to get out more often, not rot away in some bunker like some of us.”

    Ethan grinned, “Yeah, good luck trying to convince the General otherwise. You know as well as I do that when he’s made up his mind, it’s impossible to change it.”

    “Yep, ain’t that the truth.” Samantha grinned back.

    Suddenly, an alarm screeched throughout the mess hall and red lights began to flash, bathing everything in the room in its burning gaze. “Warning: Zaron patrol approaching east perimeter.” A female voice boomed over the speakers, “Initiate emergency procedures. All hands, report to your designated battle stations.”

    All throughout the hall, soldiers bolted from their seats and quickly rushed out the doors. Ethan and Samantha did the same, abandoning their meals and scrambling for the nearest armory. Breakfast would have to wait.