Eight million people all packed into about 320 square miles. You could find a variety of people from homeless heroin addicts to multimillionaire CEO's. The variety is really what made the city such an amazing place to live. It would seem everyone you talked to had a background story that could've came straight out of a magazine. The people were so interesting and lively and seemed to enjoy being in debatably one of the best cities on the planet. Except for a man, who at first glance, seemed like any other New Yorker at 5 pm on a Wednesday. Exhausted from yet another long day at work craving the feel of his warm welcoming sheets in his bed. But the closer you looked at this man the more you could tell something was off. He seemed young, in his late 20's or early 30's, but at the same time there was something about him that made him seem more aged than the average man. He had a scar running up the side of his neck and another running down the back of his neck disappearing into his shirt. Other than his looks from a distance, this man looked far from average.

Not only was it his scars and aged appearance that made him stand out, but also the way that he did thing. The way that he did everything. He never took a step without knowing exactly where he was going. He was always aware of his surroundings, his eyes always scanning, but at the same time somehow avoiding any eye contact with another human being. He seemed like a man who knew how to blend in but ready to pounce at a moments notice. After all, that was his job.

A bodyguard. That was his life. His coworkers refered to him as Rex. He had no friends or family. His purpose in life was to protect the man he was next to, and that was it. To anyone else this seemed like a sad, pointless life, but exactly 72 hours this would land him his most important assignment ever.

It was a cold winter night in the big apple. Temperatures reaching just below zero with a light, pretty snowfall. A white christmas for all the little boys and girls sitting by their windows trying to catch a glimpse of Santa. It was about 11:50 pm, December 24, 2016, when all those little boys and girls looking out their windows thought they had just seen Santa. A bright flash of light zooming low and weaving in between buildings. At 11:53 pm, Rex was woken up to the sound of sirens rushing past his apartment complex. He flipped on his radio to here an emergency broadcast warning everyone to stay inside and find cover. That was probably the worst advice anyone could have taken. Luckily, with all of his experience in high pressure situations, Rex was able to pack an emergency bag and flee his building within minutes. His bag consisted of water sterilizer, flashlight, pocket knife, solar powered radio, flare gun, and last but not least his smith and wesson 9mm with 3 extra magazines. No more than a minute of walking towards the explosion there was another one. But this one came from behind him. Then another. And another. And about 1000 more. It sounded like a firework finale gone wrong. Rex had found his way into a park while all the explosions happened. He couldn't tell what was going on until about 3 minutes of constant explosions. Almost every last residential building in New York city had been hit. No one knew what by but that wasn't important. What was important was finding out what was going on. He turned on his emergency radio... static, on every single channel. Except one. A distress signal from Chicago, describing what had just happened. In a matter of 60 minutes, an unidentified nation had unleashed a shitstorm of nukes, drones, missiles, and bombs on every one of the 100 most populated cities in America. They had also deployed millions of troops in carefully spaced apart locations throughout the country with one order. No survivors.

It was clear to Rex what was happening now. This was an attempt to destroy the United states of America. To completely wipe them off the map. The distress call cut out. All that was left was static. He turned off the radio and thought about his plan. He needed to find all the survivors, gather them in one place, and start working because if they wanted to survive it was gonna take a lot of hard work and cooperation.

His plan was plain and simple. After finding as many survivors as possible and gathering them up, they would find as many working cars as possible and head west. They would pick up survivors on their way and hopefully more automobiles. The plan was to drive until they hit a large weapon and ammunition shop that Rex new of, tucked away in the woods where he would hunt. They would stock up as much as possible there and then continue to head west. They would travel and make add as many people to what would seem to be a colony of people until they ran into their first group of soldiers. That fight would pave the way for the rest of their trip. He set up a makeshift bed for his first night of war. He slept in the park in the middle of a ring of bushes.

The next morning Rex woke up at the break of dawn. He loaded his flare gun and shot three rounds into the air, spaced out 5 minutes apart. His plan worked. By noon there were around 100 people gathered in the park being questioned and carefully separated into categories. Fighters, helpers, and anchors. Rex gathered everyone into a crowd and spoke to them from atop aa rock in the center of the park. He shared his plan with everyone and told them who he would be taking with him and who would be left behind to fend for themselves. Rex left at about two o'clock with a group of 53 people. Forty five men and eight women. Step one, assemble a group of fighters, was done.

Next step was to find transportation. This would be simple. After all they were in one of the most populated cities in the world. The hard part was getting anywhere. All of the streets were blocked by debris and broken vehicles. They were going to have to make their way to a freeway before finding the vehicles they would use. They traveled on foot until they reached I90. Here they went around to cars checking if the keys were there, if it would start, and if there were any other major problems with the car. If they chose to use a car they would clear it out completely and report it to Rex, telling him how much gas it had and how many people it could fit. After the list became thirty cars long, Rex called everyone together. Every car was assigned a driver and most were assigned a navigator/wingman

The sun had just about set when everyone got in their cars and were ready to go. Rex, in his black Range Rover, led the fleet of cars into the night. They traveled for five hours until their first stop for rest and to refill gas. As half of the people were sleeping the other half were on watch. Rex went inside of the food mart to collect food for his little army. As he was clearing the shelves in the store he heard a noise from the back room. He walked over and slowly opened the door, ready to fight.

In the corner of the dark room, crouching down, there were thirteen people. Americans, obviously hiding out after the attack. They all looked extremely helpless and scared. Rex thought it would be best to leave them and continue with his trip until he spotted a bucket in the other corner of the room. It was filled with rifles, pistols, and knives. He invited the people to join his crew. They would find a few more cars and continue on their journey as soon as possible. Rex also requested they bring the guns. Since they saw no other options they agreed. There were a total of twenty five firearms and ten knives total. After divvying the guns out to navigators and knives out to some drivers they were on their way, now with a fleet of thirty five cars. They stopped to switch cars, find more survivors and weapons, and switch cars for gas every 4-6 hours.

On their fifth stop came the moment they had all been waiting for. They spotted a checkpoint of enemy soldiers about a half mile up the road. The road ran through a deep canyon, so there would be no way around. But they wouldn't need one. By this point Rex's fleet had grown to around 220 people and 180 cars. Rex used a pair of binoculars to try to get a count on how many soldiers there were and how they would overtake them. He counted round 50 enemy soldiers, all armed with fully automatic rifles. His plan was send in three cars to drive upp to the checkpoint and stop. The drivers would wait until someone approached the car to pull out their guns and kill as many soldiers as possible. This was a suicide mission for the three drivers, but they were willing to die for their country. After the drivers were shot and killed the soldiers would come to search the cars. The second they opened the trunk, two men with rifles would immediately start shooting and take cover behind the car. At this point the rest of the fleet would speed to the checkpoint, wingmen shooting out the window, drivers hitting as many soldiers as possible.

Rex's plan worked perfectly. After the last bullet hit the ground, and the last injured soldier was put out of his misery with a cold, hard bullet, seven of the fleet had died. They buried their lost companions and had a short ceremony, but they did not have a lot of time to waste. They collected gas, weapons, and radios from the military checkpoint and were on their way without looking back for a second. Rex knew this was only the first of many battles to come. It wasn't pretty but it was what had to be done for survival. They stopped ten more times before their next run in with the enemy. The fleet was now 982 strong with 500 cars. You could see them coming from a mile away now, but that didn't matter. They no longer had to be stealthy when attacking. They hit hard and they hit fast. They outnumbered soldiers at every checkpoint by at least 300 people. It was all going according to plan. A growing fleet and a decreasing enemy power. For every one person they lost they gained five within a day, and that was a sacrifice that was willing to be made. Every man, women, and child that traveled with the fleet knew that they could lose their life at any given moment. Even Rex.

It was a warm day, probably around 90 degrees out. It was a routine attack on an enemy base. Rex's car pulled up and he got out, guns a-blazing. With only about 6 enemy soldiers left in the base, one stuck his gun out of the door and started firing. As luck would have it, the last bullet that left his gun, before he was shot and killed by a woman in the fleet, flew 50 ft through the air and hit Rex, right in between the eyes. It was a devastating loss but Rex had taught them well enough so they could carry on without him. They buried him and all slept around his grave in a giant circle that night, protecting him as he had so many times protected all of them. The next morning they all left in the cars.

It took about another 72 hours and 3 fights to finally reach the Pacific Ocean. By the time they reached the ocean the fleet was 12,000 people big. It was more of a colony then anything now. A real army, ready to take on anything that dared to approach them. They set up camp about three miles inland. But this time in was permanent. They set up a small town. The plan was to live there until help arrived from the outside world. Every night getting lower and lower on food and fresh water. Every night they would pray for help from the outside world. But there's a reason they say "be careful what you wish for".

On a rainy night, almost everyone in the colony was awoken by the sound of gunshots. There was red smoke everywhere. Complete chaos. Kip, Rex's second in command and now "Leader" of the colony hid inside the remains of what used to be a 7-11. He was ex-marine and probably the only one of the colony that put together what was going on before it was all over. The red smoke. The roaring sound of incoming jets. China had sent in their armed forces, in an attempt to eradicate anymore enemy forces from the U.S.A. Unfortunately, with all of their weapons taken off of dead soldiers and vehicles stolen from checkpoints, the colony had been marked as an enemy force. The red smoke was a target for an incoming air strike. So in a way the colony did get what they wanted. Help from the outside world.

There were no survivors. Just burning buildings and the body parts of those who stood up in a time of panic and despair and fought for their country. There was no way to describe this but unfair. I was a cruel ending to there stories. To a colony built out of nothing, bonded together by fighting side by side. Many were lost in the creation of the colony, but now this is what they would die for. Just to have all of their efforts buried under a layer of their own blood.

It took the Chinese armed forces about a week to discover their mistake. They sent in a team to collect any intel on this group of Americans that they could.

They found a journal. Badly burnt and barely legible. They sent it back overseas where translators read the story of the colony. It was an amazing tale of survival. It was released to the public about one year after the war in America was won. The nation was in dire need of rebuilding. The first new city that went up was placed where the beautiful city of San Francisco once was located. The city was to honor the colony. A memorial was built in a beautiful park for all 12,381 people lost. Right in the middle was a flag. Torn to shreds and almost unable to be identified as an American flag. It was found in Rex's bag, about year after his death. It is still their, today, standing as one of the most sentimental items in U.S. history.