The night I led us out of the bunker, all I could think was how ironic it was that I was rebelling against President McCleary, the man who appointed me general of his army. The man who, I could only imagine, expected me to be at his side after reanimation. Instead, I was planning a coup.

My promotion replayed in my mind as I did my best to sleep before our exodus. The general I was replacing, General Cartwright, stood at my right, as my second in command, Yasmin Kazemi stood to my left. Behind a star spangled banner dressed podium, one of the other six four-star generals, a man I admired named General Thomas, read the official speech.

"The President of the United States has reposed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, and abilities of Kevin H. Sato."

From beneath the white tent that protected my troop, my friends, and my family from the early morning mist, I made eye contact with my mother. Her round, lined face and pulled back onyx hair allowed her to blend in with many of the others beneath the tent. She emigrated from Japan as a young wife, but now, standing at the ceremony in Fort Shafter, after years of sun and sand, she  looked like she could have been any other Hawaiian there. Tears fell from her almond-shaped eyes. Tomorrow I'd be transferred to Virginia, but my mother--my okasan--and my sister Laura would not accompany me. This was a moment of bittersweetness for my family.

Laura wrapped her shawl-covered arm around Okasan as General Thomas continued, "Due to these qualities and his demonstrated potential for increased responsibility, he is therefore promoted in the United States Army to the grade of general by order of John C. McCleary, President of the United States of America."

Okasan sniffed loudly as General Thomas presented General Cartwright with the pillow of my new four-star shoulder board pins. General Cartwright handed one to Yasmin, and together they unpinned the three-star boards from my shoulders and decorated me with my shiny new boards, all while I kept my focus straight on Okasan and Laura. My sister smiled at me, though she knew I could not return the expression, and bowed her head slightly. Her baby brother, now one of the seven decorated four-star generals in the U.S. Army. My father, Otosan, would have been so proud, but he only lived to see me promoted to a two-star general before his heart gave out.

From the corners of my eyes, I saw that General Cartwright and Yasmin had finished pinning my new shoulder boards in place, and with an exchange of hats and a round of applause, I officially became a four-star general. In two years--well into what many Americans called the worst presidency in our history--McCleary would appoint me to the position of a five-star general, the General of the Army, if only for a day before the world came to a halt. But of course, I didn't know that, and neither did my family when they stayed in Hawaii. Neither did Yasmin when she filed her transfer papers to join me in Virginia.

But it wasn't the regret of leaving my family behind that kept me up the night I led the rebels out of the bunker, nor was it nerves. It was the feeling that I wasn't actually here because of my patriotism, valor, and abilities; but that I was actually there in the bunker, the General of McCleary's Army, because he saw a weakness in me. Because John McCleary looked at me and thought that he could push me around and then trust me not to question him.

But if that's what he thought, he chose the wrong man to lead his troops. I was a man of honor. A man who believed in the tenants of the United States of America, that all men were created equal and were born with the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Call me crazy, but I refused to believe that all men were meant to be created by scientists in a lab for a life of control, capture, and manipulation. The United States might have been destroyed years earlier, but I was not ready to give up on what it stood for.

John McCleary would regret the day he promoted me.

Three faint knocks sounded at my door. Yasmin was here. The revolt was beginning. I leapt out of bed, throwing the stiff grey blanket to the floor, and flung open the door. Yasmin stood in front of me, her dark skin glowing from the yellow emergency lights along the floor. The shadows from her high cheekbones made her face look hollow and her wide, brown eyes appear bulging. Or it could have been the years the cryo chambers froze over finally catching up to her. I could see in the lines on my face they had caught up to me.

She panted as she leaned her muscular body against the door frame. "Everyone is in place," she said. "Just waiting for your command."

I reached into the top drawer of the dresser beside the door and lifted my gun. With a swift motion, I pulled back the slide, and, seeing a bullet still in the chamber, ran into the hallway with Yasmin.

As we hurried down the hallway of dormitories, we pounded on select doors--the ones belonging to those who had already pledged to join the rebellion. Out from the shadows slipped scientists and soldiers alike. Some of my men led the scientists less experienced in combat up to the first floor, where an exit to the Immortal would be waiting for them. The others, along with some of the more courageous scientists like Rumi Patel, Phoebe Clark, and Winston Fowler joined our soft-footed stampede toward the end of the hall, where the Roberts and Cooper men and President McCleary slept.

"Hurry, hurry," Yasmin ordered in hushed tones behind me. Footsteps padded against the concrete floor and door hinges and latches gave away the escape, but only to someone listening for betrayal. Luckily for us, that was not any of the men we were trying to kill.

At least, not until we invaded the first room.

It belonged to one of the Roberts and Cooper men--Senator Somebody, I couldn't remember, from a state that no longer existed thanks to the bombs.

I turned the knob, but when I found the door was locked, I motioned for my people to be at the ready. Yasmin and Winston stepped to either side of me to cover me as I kicked in the door heel first. It splintered at the latch and swung open. The senator's wispy white hair shot up as quickly as he did at the commotion.

"General?" his voice shaked.

I replied with a bullet to his skull. That was for Okasan, I thought.

Now that our rebellion had been announced with the first shot, Roberts and Cooper men and loyalists began stirring behind their doors, shouting in concern.

"This is it," I called behind me. "Hold your ground. Do not leave until McCleary and Cooper are dead."

Some doors ahead of me opened, but before any person could step out, gun barrels haphazardly pointed in our direction lit with shots. "Down," I ordered as I instinctively ducked. Without bodies to aim at, I fired my gun to the fingers pulling the triggers. I was a general, my aim was precise. Squeals and groans of pain echoed below the gunshots as shooters recoiled from the doorways. We made our move.

Doorway by doorway, shot by shot, life by life, we worked down the hallway. The world had been cleared of innocent lives. This was our chance to put a little balance to that. That was for Laura. That was for Tamara, Yasmin's life partner. With each life I took, an innocent person's life flashed in my mind.

Shots sounded from behind us. "Reinforcements," Yasmin yelled out to me. I scowled at the end of the hall, only a doorway away. I had to be a good general.

"Head back," I ordered, never taking my eyes from the president's door. "We have to get our people out of here."

"The president," Yasmin responded.

"I'll get him. Go!"

I heard her shouting orders to our rebels, telling them to run to the exits and board the Immortal. I approached the last doorway on the left, McCleary's. Across the hall was Cooper's, and though I knew he was behind the apocalypse more than McCleary was, something drew me to the left. In the moment, all I knew was that it felt like rage. In hindsight, it was because if I couldn't stop my promotions from happening, I knew I had to stop the person who tried to expected to use me as his puppet.

I kicked in McCleary's door. As soon as my sight was clear to see into the room, I was being fired on. Captain Keith Jones, a pain-in-the-ass redneck prick, covered McCleary as he escaped through a vent in the wall.

"Back off, jap," Jones yelled, which literally made his neck red.

I aimed my gun at him, but before I could shoot him squarely between the eyebrows, some punk scientist tackled me to the ground. I looked up to see Yasmin and one of the scientists we had convinced to join us, Alexander, screaming for me to get up and run. I wanted so badly to chase after McCleary, to find Cooper, to put an end to Jones' disgusting life, but I also wanted to make it out of the bunker alive.

I elbowed the scientist still trying to fight me in his square jaw, causing blood to drip down his pale chin and into his black hair. I knew who he was then. That was Gunther Quail, the supposed genetics wiz McCleary and Cooper had put so much faith in.

I punched him a second time for good measure, and once his skull knocked against the floor, rendering him unconscious for the moment, I seized the opportunity to push myself up and escape.

We dodged confused scientists and equally confused and unled soldiers until we made it to the Immortal, the last three to board: me, Yasmin Kazemi, and Alexander Ovis.

"Go, go, go," Yasmin yelled up the metal staircase, and within moments, the gigantic tank was in motion. She caught her breath and turned to me. "They're all waiting for us upstairs," she told me.

I signaled for Alexander and Yasmin to walk first, allowing a few extra seconds for me to catch my breath. Bullets pinged against the outside of the tank, but they were no match for the Immortal's shell, and by the time we were at the top of the stairs, all other sounds but the rumbling of the tank had ceased.

In a great, white cafeteria, all the ragtag rebels gathered. Some in their bunker-issued pajamas--white jumpsuits with American flag patches sewn onto the breast pockets--others in their military uniforms.

They looked to me with anxious stares. What would happen next? Where would we go? I didn't have the answers, but I knew one thing for sure:

"Brothers and sisters," I began, "we fought for our lives back today, and we won. But I'm afraid this is just the beginning. Are you ready to keep fighting for your lives with me? Are you ready to refuse death?"

It must have been three in the morning and fatigue was smeared over the faces of everyone in that cafeteria, but despite it all, a war cry erupted from inside the Immortal that night, so powerful I knew it too would never die.