Chapter 1
“They are coming. It is starting.”
These were the last words that Max Cunningham heard as he departed the office that afternoon, beginning the short drive back home. Those six words had replayed in his mind so many times now, over and over, that they had reached the point of initiating madness.
As the sun started to set behind the clouds over the horizon on a typically hot June evening in Silver Spring, a little town located close to Washington D.C, Max slowly turned the ignition key to silence the raging engine. As he opened the door of the Ford Mustang, he was greeted by a gust of warm evening air that gently brushed his skin, almost caressing him, as he steadily eased himself out.
In his early 40’s, Max remained in astounding physical condition, although he didn’t always believe this to be the case - finding himself wistfully reminiscing about his youth more often than he would have liked. As he slung the waxy leather jacket over the shoulder of his sturdy 6’2 frame he casually locked the car, which he had owned for nearly a decade. It remained his ‘pride and joy’, with the title only having been surpassed in his lifetime by the birth of his two children. He smiled wryly as he remembered purchasing the car, recalling how he fell instantly in love with the rugged exterior lavished with vibrant red paintwork and jet black trim, instantly drawn in and empathising with the raw power. His smile soon faded as it dawned on him that this memory belonged to a different time, his life having changed since that fateful day.
In the last few hours, events had occurred which would act as a catalyst for a time of uncertainty and danger that threatened mankind’s very existence, and he was one of only a handful of people to be aware of the impending threat.
“They are coming…”
The words played through his mind once more.
As Max strolled through the garden of his modern three bedroom home - located in a typically nice suburban area surrounded by ‘well to do’ families - he made a conscious effort to blank his concerns and fears out of his mind before he embraced his family. He banished those words to his internal vault, which over the years had become brim-full of the horrors he had witnessed.
Marie, his wife of over fourteen years, would know instantly if something was troubling him, a trait that never ceased to bewilder and infuriate Max in equal measures. Despite knowing who Max’s employers were, she had never really known the full extent of his role and duties. For her part she never asked or pried, avoiding putting Max in the uncomfortable position of either outright lying to the woman he loved, or scaring her by divulging her exactly what he was capable of.
‘Ignorance is bliss’ was a line she had grown so used to repeating in her head over the years when Max would return home in the darkness of night battered and bruised, covered in someone else’s blood. She loved him, and the fact he returned home at all was what really mattered. Marie would tell herself that it didn’t matter what he did as long as he was alive, that such a good husband and loyal father could not be capable of the horrors the evidence implied. She almost convinced herself. Almost.
Max knew Marie did not want to see that side of the man she loved, or hear of the things he had done in the name of his job, but knew that they were in a situation that neither would have chosen. She understood that Max had to fulfil his duties in order to ensure their family remained safe, a sacrifice he would be willing to make again and again without a moment’s hesitation.
Max was a proud and fiercely loyal man, primitive in some aspects, dangerously coupled with an astute intellect and common sense, ensuring he remained well rounded and nobody’s fool, the importance of which he was always keen to press upon his offspring. In another life, Max could have progressed to middle management of a well-run profitable company; worked into his seventies, had grandchildren and great grandchildren as he embraced retirement and enjoyed his twilight years. But this was not the life Max desired, nor the path he had taken.
