I woke up with a massive hangover, my head was pounding and my body felt like I had been beaten then dragged through a monster truck rally. When I opened my eyes I was some place that wasn’t my home, I was somewhere that looked very much like a hospital.

I had an IV going to my arm, I moved the blanket I was under to see my legs were wrapped in bandages. What did I do last night?

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, as soon as my feet hit the floor I felt pain shoot up my legs and collapsed. An alarm started going off as I rolled onto my side and tried to get my weight off my feet.

“Looks like mister popular is awake", a male nurse said as he entered the room. He had to practically lift me back into the bed then checked that I didn’t pull out my IV tubing and told me about my injuries. I had received third degree burns to my feet and legs, the doctors were waiting for me to wake up before taking any next steps.

After he finished, I asked “...what do you mean, popular?”

“Buddy, you’ve got a whole lot of guys in suits flashing badges, demanding all kinds of stuff. You came in with some soldiers, they’re outside the door and not letting anyone in besides staff.”

Shit

“Shit, how long have I been out?"

“I know, right? You came in yesterday afternoon. Try not to fall out of bed again, I’ve got work to do. I'll let the doctors know you're awake, they should in here in a few minutes.”

I laid back and tried to watch tv, but it was broken or something, it seemed like some crappy zombie movie was on every channel. So I turned it off and tried to remember last night. I was drinking at home when the lights went out, then I was having the strangest dream about being a ninja and fighting a worm.

The doctor came in after about thirty minutes and explained that while they could save my legs, there was enough damage to my feet that they would never work right again or they could amputate, and I would need months of physical therapy.

After he made sure I was in my right mind he left and let in an army officer who was wearing lieutenant colonel rank. Ltc Cunningham was here to debrief me about what happened last night. When he pulled my shotgun out of a bag by the bed I started to remember.

I explained what had happened, the chain of events leading up to destroying a power station.

I was worried he wouldn’t believe me, but he just took notes and nodded while listening.

“And you did all of that drunk as a skunk?”

“I had to do something.”

“Well, you're being reactivated, as soon as you're finished with physical therapy report to Reserve command for assignment”

“Hold up. I already did my eight years, you can't reactivate or draft me! Even if you could, I'm not going to be fit for service unless you're taking people without working feet".

The officer paused in his note taking with a thoughtful look on his face.

“This didn’t just happen here, as far as we can tell its global. DC, New York, LA, and a lot of cities outside the states have all been hit. Yesterday the president and his cabinet were killed, along with a huge portion of Congress when an ambush was set in the capital building. DC police, swat teams from the alphabet boys, and our security teams managed to secure the capital. The Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs was sworn in as president yesterday at 1700 hours. He declared martial law and enacted total a war footing. Everything we've got is being mobilized, they are going to start calling draft numbers tomorrow.”

I was stunned. Holy fucking shit!

“Holy fucking shit… sir".

The officer let out a chuckle as he stood to leave. “Exactly my thoughts. We are assuming all our communications networks are compromised, so I have to courier this report back to the pentagon. You’re the last interview I needed.”

“Wait, what about New York and LA?”

“Things there aren't looking good, both have… had, high population density that let these spiders spread rapidly. Those populations aren't as heavily armed as Texas.” He turned to leave then paused by the door, “I can't tell you more till you’ve reenlisted. You're right, we can't conscript you, but I don't think somebody with your record would back down from this.”

After he left, I got visited by a series of agents, special agents, and officers from every agency in the alphabet. They all asked different versions of the same questions, I had to tell my story again and again. They weren't exactly up front with information, but I could glean things and read between the lines. Yesterday hundreds of thousands of people in New York and LA were dead or missing, that number spiked up to the millions before this morning. Massive evacuation efforts were being attempted, but most people couldn’t outpace the zombie runners with the roads clogged. 10 million people tried to get on the southern California interstate system at the same time, it turned into a slaughterhouse. Houston had thousands dead and missing presumed dead, and we got off easy. The bridges out of Manhattan were locked down, some had been blown when the police and national guard were about to be overrun. The only thing slowing down the ones in California are the distances involved.

Eventually the doctor came back in with a team of nurses to changes my bandages.

“If you take my feet, how long will it take to be walking on prosthetics?”

…

The next day, before I got prepped for surgery, I got another visitor. An old man wearing an outdated style olive drab uniform and a Stetson, I recognized him as the man leading the team at the power station.

Introductions were made, he was some old school officer, went to nam as a private, liked it so much he stayed in for a few years and became an officer, then resigned after the government refused to send help to Saigon. Made a living as a security contractor then later as a shooting instructor.

After the chit chat was over he got to the point, “The Department of Defense is trying to get the military up to strength, but we are spread thin. We already have two wars, and now this. They need time they don’t have, time to activate reserves, time to mobilize the guard, time to get enough people through training. As a stop gap, they are accepting mercenary companies and militia units into a new irregular corps, but they aren’t going to announce that till tomorrow. As long as there is an officer to lead them, they can operate independently and still get the logistical support needed.”

I feel an and coming.

“and, they offered me back my commission this morning.”

“You really want a man with no working legs?” I demanded bitterly.

Hoss laughed then with good humor said “Hell, son, half the them that showed up to rescue you didn’t have the right number of arms and legs.”

We both shared a laugh for a moment.

“We may be a generation apart, but we are cut from the same cloth. Night before last, everyone else was running, hiding, or just plain not ready. Not you or me, we took the fight to the enemy, punched them in the balls. I think you'll be better used with us than with the regulars.”

He had a good point, his group had been the first ones to show up and push as deep as me. That took balls and it took an understanding that this wasn’t a fight they could win holding a line…. I also didn't do well career wise the last time I was in the army.

“Alright old timer, sign me up"

“I'll put your name on the roster for Scar Company and send you post card when we get our assignment.”