Collapse Series (Book 10): State of Hope

by Summer Lane

  He falls silent, covering his eyes.

  “I hid under the dead bodies of my entire cabinet…my friends,” he whispers. “Their blood soaked my clothes. I could taste it in my mouth – and I watched them take my daughter and wife, alive. Prisoners of war.”

  “You saw them?” I ask.

  “Yes. They were taken, not killed.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  He taps the photograph again.

  “I’ve been tracking Omega’s movements all this time,” he explains, “because there is nothing more important to me than rescuing Abbi and Mary from the enemy. They can’t be allowed to suffer for the lifestyle I forced them into – I was the president, not them. I’m the one who should have been captured.”

  “What made you decide to come to Camp Cambria now?” I ask. “You don’t strike me as an impulsive man. If you’re here, you have a reason to be.”

  “And you’re very intelligent, Commander Hart,” he replies, tilting his head. “You’re correct: I’m not here by chance. I have not just been following Omega movements – I’ve been following militia movements. All this time, I’ve been learning about you, about your team, about the Angels of Death, the Freedom Fighters, the Battle of the Grapevine, the Battle of Monterey, your rescue mission into Los Angeles to extract Commander Chris Young, and the subsequent takedown of an Omega prison. Your leadership and your team have done the impossible, over and over again. And what you did at Sky City? Incredible. Breathtaking, even. I’m in awe – you have skill, unbelievable skill.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Thanks,” I say. “But what’s the bottom line, here?”

  “I want you to rescue my daughter and the First Lady from an Omega stronghold,” he replies. “I’ve located them – I know where they are.”

  I exhale, shocked and disappointed.

  Suddenly, his actions make sense – this whole time he’s been scouting for the perfect rescue team to extract his family from Omega’s hands. A single man, obsessed with the idea of saving his loved ones from destruction. It’s a sentiment I know all too well…one that ends in disillusionment. I thought I could save my father, too.

  I was wrong.

  “You don’t even know if your family is still alive,” I reply, expressionless.

  “No, I do,” he answers, springing to his feet, flushed. “I have spies everywhere – they’re being kept with Chancellor Klaus. She knows I’m still alive. She’s planning on using them as a bargaining chip if things get to a point where Omega and the militias have to negotiate. A last resort on their part.”

  “There’s no reason for me to risk the lives of my men for your family,” I tell him, stony. “I’m sorry – I know how it feels to love someone and be unable to help them…but we’re in a situation right now where I can’t risk it. Trying to take two people away from Omega is impossible. The Athena Strike is going down in six weeks – the final invasion, Mr. President. We have to get ready. It’s the last push – our last chance to keep Omega out.”

  “I knew you would say that,” Saul says, a smug smile touching his lips. “You forget, Commander Hart, that I’ve spent years now studying the Freedom Fightersand the Angels of Death. Especially you and Commander Young. That’s why I have come prepared to strike a bargain.”

  He again kneels at the desk, pulling a worn leather satchel from the bottom drawer. I see the feverish gleam of desperation in his eyes, carefully hidden beneath the presidential façade of calm and control.

  He slams the satchel onto the desk.

  “Open it,” he says.

  I frown and touch the lock, popping it open. Inside, there are stacks of paper.

  “What is all this?” I ask.

  “Information about Omega,” he replies. “The answers to questions I’m sure you’ve had since the day the first EMP hit. I have so much information about Omega – I’m well acquainted with them. I knew of them well before the Collapse…we all did. But no one thought it would come to this. No one thought they would be able to globally mobilize – that’s why we never released this information to the public.”

  “Sucks to be wrong, doesn’t it?” I comment.

  He says nothing.

  “You knew Omega was coming,” I tell him. “Everyone did. You just chose not share that information with the masses. You let them die instead.”

  “To warn them would have caused more death,” he replies. “The panic would have been unsustainable.”

  “You know what else is unsustainable?” I snap. “Millions of people dying in the first waves of the EMP attacks. That’s on you, Mr. President.”

  He winces.

  “We can’t help you,” I tell him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You have to,” he says, and his expression is no longer calm. It is wild – frantic. He grabs the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m begging you, Commander Hart. Have sympathy. I need your help – my family needs it!”

  I pull my arm away from him.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warn.

  He takes a ragged breath – and then he says, “Think about what I said about unifying the states, creating a massive front against Omega. With me as the president again, it would give everyone an incentive to unite. A familiar face – something from the old world, before the Collapse. We would be powerful, strong.”

  I shake my head, grabbing the leather satchel.

  “I’ll get this back to you when I’m done reading it,” I say, walking toward the door.

  “Please, Commander!” Saul cries. “PLEASE.”

  I meet his gaze – tired, desperate, terrified.

  “I’ll think about it,” I reply.

  He exhales.

  As I leave, I berate myself for telling him that.

  I have already made my decision: a rescue operation right now is out of the question. There’s no chance we would do what he asks. The allure of a unified front against Omega is a nice thought, but he’s egotistical if he thinks he’s the only person who can bind us together. Our resolve and our strength against the enemy is enough glue on its own.

  The question is simply whether now is the right time.

  I hit the street below, and Uriah is standing in front of the alehouse.

  I meet his eyes, and I hold the leather satchel close to my body. I say nothing, but he falls into step with me regardless. Always so quiet – like a panther, cut from the shadows.

  “You talked with him,” Uriah states.

  “I did,” I admit.

  “And?”

  “He’s a strategist. He wants us to rescue his wife and daughter from Veronica Klaus.” I shake my head. “He’s here to hire the Angels of Death to do a rescue operation. That’s it.”

  “I knew he wasn’t here by accident,” Uriah answers.

  “How far out is Admiral Boyd?”

  “An hour – maybe two.”

  “Good. We need to talk about those nuclear weapons.”

  “What’s in the satchel?”

  “From President Banner. He says there’s information in here about Omega.” I shrug. “I hope it’s something worth reading.”

  “Might be.” Uriah suddenly looks grave. “Have you been to see Chris today?”

  I chew on my lower lip.

  “No,” I answer. “He’s in a coma. It’s not like I can talk to him.”

  I keep my gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at Uriah. I have carefully controlled my emotions regarding Chris’s current situation. I can’t afford to have a breakdown – not now. I would never recover.

  It’s my fear of self-destruction that keeps me cold, I realize.

  “You should go see him,” Uriah encourages.

  “Why?” I demand, stopping, assessing his dark, handsome features. “You hate him! If it wasn’t for him – you and I would be together!”

  Uriah stares at me.

  I feel as if I’ve shoved a knife into his heart – why would I say something like that? How could I be so cruel and juvenile?
Uriah has done nothing but be helpful and caring – watching over me like a guardian, even in my darkest moments.

  Especially in my darkest moments.

  I’m sorry, I think. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. I’m just so worried that Chris is going to die.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean that. That was wrong.”

  He looks away for a moment, and then we start walking again.

  We are quiet. Because, like it or not, my words were true.

  Chapter Three

  Admiral Boyd has arrived.

  The naval fleet and its flagship, a supercarrier called the U.S.S. Roberta, are floating just offshore. The admiral will come to us on a Black Hawk, and we will meet with him in the communications center in Camp Cambria.

  I am making way to the meeting spot when a tall, skinny young man crosses my path, heading straight toward me. I sidestep, recognition flashing through my brain.

  Diego, the president’s Secret Service man.

  He is painfully thin, his face mired with a scraggly beard.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I don’t mean to bother you. I’ve been looking for you all day…”

  He stands at an angle, gasping for breath.

  “You okay?” I ask, straightening my jacket.

  “Yes,” he replies. “I just wanted to tell you…I know you’re probably having some doubts about President Banner’s intentions, but you have to understand…he’s been through a lot. He’s really in this for the right reasons – I promise you.”

  “Oh,” I answer. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

  “I’m serious,” he goes on. “I know the president. He’s a good man.”

  “I believe you. But look, I have responsibilities to keep my men and this state safe.”

  “I hope you’ll reconsider the mission,” Diego presses, frowning. “President Banner would be eternally grateful to you – he admires you more than you know. If he were to unite the states against Omega, you would be guaranteed a position of prominent leadership-”

  “Don’t even go there,” I warn. “I can’t be bought or bribed. That’s not who I am.”

  I brush past him.

  “Commander Hart,” Diego says, falling into step with me, limping. “Please, listen to reason. I swear, you’re talking about an innocent woman and a little girl – don’t you have sympathy?”

  “Of course I do!” I retort. “And if I could run the risk of another rescue mission right now, I would. But that’s not the case. We’re on the verge of the Athena Strike, and we need to put all our effort toward that. President Banner needs to get onboard with the idea – and then we can talk about his family.”

  Diego shakes his head. “If that’s the way you want it-”

  “It is.” I pick up the pace. “Go rest, Diego. You need it.”

  He doesn’t reply. He watches me walk away.

  Sorry, I think. But this is the way it has to be.

  By the time I get to the communications center, Uriah is already there. He glances sharply at me, then looks away – still stung by my earlier comment, and I can’t blame him.

  I can be ruthless sometimes.

  He understands the pressure I’m under, I remind myself. He’ll forgive me.

  Vera, Manny, Andrew, and Father Kareem are here, too, along with Commander Miller. And there is Admiral Boyd, tall and stately, his face grave.

  “Commander Hart,” he says, offering his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

  I take his hand, remembering how he abandoned us on Hawaii, leaving us alone to fight a force of two thousand Ku on our own…

  “You, too,” I reply.

  We find seats around a large table, but Admiral Boyd remains standing.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your men on Hawaii,” Admiral Boyd says, looking at me. “I did what I had to preserve my assets and to get away from the Athena Strike Fleet. They were moving quickly.”

  “I understand,” I say. And I do. “Thank you for sending the Black Hawks – it saved our lives.”

  He nods.

  “The time has come to discuss the use of the nuclear weapons that you acquired on the island,” he goes on. “We hold a very dangerous key in our hands, fellow fighters. With it, we could unlock peace or global destruction. We must proceed carefully and with diligence.”

  “Of course,” Father Kareem agrees. “Now that we have these weapons-”

  He is about to finish his sentence but trails off when a tall, dark man with dreadlocks walks out of the back room. He smiles when he sees us.

  “Desmond!” I exclaim, standing to embrace him. “You’re okay!”

  He claps me into a bear hug, and the feathers threaded through his hair tickles my cheeks.

  “Of course I am,” he replies. “Now, what have I missed? Discussing the end of the world, I see?”

  “That was last week’s news,” Manny remarks. “Get with the times.”

  Desmond feigns irritation – but I know they are both very happy to see each other.

  “Have you told him?” Commander Miller interrupts, looking toward the Admiral.

  “Told me what?” Boyd asks, frowning.

  I exhale.

  “Sir,” I say. “We have a situation. The President of the United States is here in Camp Cambria.”

  Admiral Boyd stares at me.

  “Impossible,” he says. “President Saul Banner is dead.”

  “No,” I reply. “He’s not. He’s here.”

  “Impossible,” he repeats.

  “His entire cabinet was killed in Atlas One,” I continue. “He says he’s the only survivor.”

  Admiral Boyd pales then. He sits down in a chair, places his hand on his forehead and exclaims: “Are you certain it’s the president?”

  “Yes, sir,” Andrew pipes up. “Absolutely. I’ve verified it. I even ran his prints here in the communications center, along with a DNA check and-”

  “How is this possible?” Admiral Boyd asks, slack-jawed.

  “I don’t know,” Manny responds. “Why don’t you ask him when you see him?”

  Admiral Boyd is silent for a long while before slowly meeting my gaze.

  “This changes everything,” he says. “Everything. Bring the president here immediately.”

  “But Admiral-” Vera begins.

  “Now,” Admiral Boyd stresses. “Do it, Lieutenant.”

  I nod, and Vera quickly stands, making her way toward the door, leaving to fetch the president.

  “You had no idea he was alive, either,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “There have always been rumors,” Boyd answers. “I knew about Atlas One– very few of us knew, but I had suspicions. We gathered intel at one point that suggested he had been killed in the bunker with the rest of his family and his cabinet.”

  “He says that the first lady and his daughter are Omega prisoners,” I tell him.

  “Bargaining chips?” Boyd mutters. “Interesting. Perhaps Omega knows Banner is alive.”

  “He thinks Omega will try to use them as leverage, if they know or find out he lived through the Atlas One attack.”

  “Omega is foolish,” Father Kareem interjects. “If they believe that the life of one woman and child will bring the entire militia movement to its knees, they are sorely mistaken.”

  “It hasn’t come to that, yet,” Andrew reminds him. “From what the president has said, his family will be a source of leverage for him, not us. If they don’t know the president is alive, then they won’t be able to use it against him.”

  I agree with this, yet I can’t help but shake one thought:

  If the first lady and first daughter are still alive, it is because Omega must know that the president is, too. Isn’t that what Saul tried to tell me earlier?

  There is something much deeper going on here, I know it.

  “Where did you find him?” Boyd asks.

  “He came into Cambria on a small boat,” Uriah replies. “He wasn’t alone – he had a Secret Serv
ice man with him, Diego Santiago.”

  Admiral Boyd stands and stares at the map on the wall, arms crossed.

  “This changes everything,” he mumbles again.

  “How?” Andrew inquires. “I mean, sure, it’s the president. But it’s not like he’s going to make or break the war at this point. He’s coming into the game way too late – we’re already established, and we have no reason to have a president right now.”

  Admiral Boyd doesn’t respond.

  The door to the communications center opens, and Vera enters, President Saul Banner right with her. He walks in, wrapped in a thick black jacket, his hair neatly combed.

  “Mr. President,” Admiral Boyd breathes, saluting.

  The two men exchange handshakes, and Saul says, “It’s good to see you, Admiral. So good. A familiar face is not something I ever thought I’d see again.”

  “I can’t believe you’re alive, sir.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “You know what this means, Mr. President.”

  “I know.”

  I remain still, watching the exchange, gauging Admiral Boyd’s reaction and President Banner’s expression.

  “Have a seat, please,” Boyd tells the president. “I think now is the time to discuss the Locke Initiative, since you are here, and alive, and in the presence of the remaining militia leaders of California.”

  The president nods, takes a seat, and throws a hopeful look my way.

  Confused, I avert my gaze, watching Boyd.

  “Commander Hart,” Admiral Boyd says, “I wish you’d told me about this sooner.”

  “Seriously?” I retort. “I just found out two days ago. I wasn’t going to transmit it over the radio, either.”

  “It would have been worth the risk,” the Admiral mutters.

  “Doubtful,” I reply.

  If Chris were here, he would hold up a hand, warn me to be quiet, to be respectful.

  But he’s not here, so my filter is gone.

  “What’s the Locke Initiative?” Uriah asks.

  “A top secret emergency plan,” President Banner explains, sighing. “In essence, it’s the process of designation for the office of presidency in the event that the entire chain of command is demolished. The leadership extends down the line, to the next available person to do the job. For example, if I and my entire cabinet are assassinated – then it falls to the remaining highest office of leadership to be designated as the President of the United States. This is to ensure that the leadership continues, even in the event of a catastrophic assassination plot.”