The Fate of a Survivor: Of Foes and Woes

Chapter One: First Impact

{12 hours earlier}

"Hey, Kyle you hearing this?" He dropped the bottle of beer he'd been drinking from and glanced at the news playing on the tv.

". . .have threatened the country with nuclear bombs. This isn't new as threats like this have been made in the past. But considering what has taken place in Israel, should we be worried? And seeing as how. . ."

Kyle zoned out after that. A nuclear war? He chuckled. His friend raised an eyebrow wondering what was funny.

"Those people don't even know what they talking about." He said humorously referring to the nations that had recently threatened America with bombs. It was truly laughable.

"America ain't Israel, believe me. We'll blast them all to space first." His friend shook his head chuckling along. Kyle paid for his beer and stood up wearing his cowboy hat.

"Well Bob, I gotta go. See ya." He headed out the bar to his car.

He could use the cold soothing air of the sea right about now.

Kyle smiled. He did love the sea, it was impossible not to, given his profession.

He hopped into his classy impala and began driving through the busy road of Manhattan, New York.

Originally from Texas, his father had left home for the big city when he was sixteen. Now forty-six, his father had left him the family business. They were ship crafters.

Kyle stopped at a stop sign at an intersection, listening to soft country music.

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, humming softly along. His mind drifted and he imagined himself already in his house, a glass of wine in hand with a steaming plate of pot roast on the table.

He grinned to himself and chuckled when his stomach growled.

He looked up and saw three dark figures overhead, approaching fast.

They were jets and his brows furrowed as they zoomed swiftly over the busy traffic. His frown deepened. What could be wrong? The honking of the car behind him brought him out of his revelry.

He muttered a quick 'sorry' before zooming off, the images of those jets still vivid in his mind.

He got to his ship factory in record time, it was near the shore, for obvious reasons. And after a few hours, he was done for the day. His house was conveniently close by.

He got inside and went inside his room. He couldn't wait for dinner to arrive. Beef jerky sandwich. That was what he'd ordered.

As he put some of his construction tools down in the garage, he remembered one of his friends at work asking him if he'd heard the news— the same one everyone seemed to be talking about.

He'd seen them all gathered around the lounge looking up at the television.

The reporter had seemed agitated as it looked as if the threats were serious and everyone was beginning to panic.

He'd ordered them all sternly to get back to work and told them firmly that America was safe, boasting about the power of the army and how great the security was.