by Summer Lane
I fall back and dig through my pack. I have an entire backpack full of explosives, enough to blow up headquarters, for sure. But on the off-chance that Banner isn’t inside…I will have wasted my opportunity. So I decide to go at it another way.
I carefully crawl back to the convoy loading zone and attach my explosives to every other vehicle, working on my back in the darkness. When I’ve set every device, I save two of the small bombs and attach one to the wall of the general store. I save the final one and flip out my radio trigger. I check the mags on the handguns hanging off my hips – two of them, because I have a feeling this is going to be a short-range shooting show – and I bury my rifle inside a bush, intending to come back for it if I survive.
I’ve got more than enough ammo to shoot everyone here – twice.
I’ll just have to be fast.
Are you insane, Cassie? You’re going up against a hundred men!
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Who says I can’t?”
Maybe I’m just stupid. I don’t know. But I look at the radio bomb trigger and I run my thumb over the smooth button on top. My left hand is still slightly screwed up, but I have it wrapped tight enough so that the pain has turned into a needle-like numbness. At the very least, I can pull the trigger of my second handgun. That’s all I need to be able to do.
Cold wind gusts through camp and a dusting of snow begins to fall.
I take a deep breath, and I squeeze the trigger.
***
As soon as I squeeze the bomb trigger, I grip one gun in each hand. The explosives detonate and the convoy line-up goes up. The impact of the explosion is a shockwave in this small area. A volley of flames launches into the air, and one of the Humvees flips backward. Trees catch fire and the camp glows orange and red.
I detonate the explosive on the general store.
It seems to burst from the inside out, sending splinters and metal in all directions, shrapnel ripping through the air. Black smoke rolls across the compound and I can hear Sector 13 men screaming.
I grip my guns and I run.
I cross the expanse between me and headquarters. Some of the guards out front have been knocked over by the force of the explosions.
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
Four down.
Someone screams, “MILITIA!”
Yeah, it’s the militia. Just one.
Three guards form a sort of human wall around the steps leading to headquarters’ front door. I get off two shots and kill the first two. The last one takes a shot at me. I jump aside and get off two more. He falls dead at my feet, his blood sprayed across my cheek.
I jump over their dead bodies and fluidly get off my shots toward the guards who are beginning to flood toward me from all corners of the camp. Despite myself, I actually smile: their vehicles are destroyed and they have no way to get the President out without me being able to get a shot at him.
I holster my guns and grab a rifle off one of the dead guards. I shove the stock into my shoulder and selectively pick off the oncoming guards. Some of them are wildly firing in my direction, and they are easy enough to take down. They’re unorganized and surprised; their weakness is their unpreparedness, along with their false assumption that they are being attacked by an entire militia.
I stand at the door of headquarters, cloaked by smoke so that the guards can’t see me, but I can see them. They have to come up to me, and that gives me yet another advantage. Some of them finally get smart and take cover behind burning vehicles and trees, but as soon as they pop their heads out to try and take a shot at me, I am ready. I catch even the tiniest tip of shoulder or skull through my sights, letting instinct and experience guide my movements. I am supercharged with adrenaline, yet eerily calm in the face of the onslaught.
I guess that I have killed maybe twenty men so far, leaving at least eighty more.
I’m going to have to move this along.
I throw the rifle over my shoulder and grab my two guns again, ghosting into the smoke. I run, rolling over dead bodies and swinging around corners. I shoot everything that moves, sweat plastering my clothes against my body, smoke burning my eyes and pain burning through my broken left hand.
I stop, drop my empty mags, reload, and then I keep going. Shoot, reload, move. Shoot, reload, move. I do it over and over again, systematically moving through the camp, unseen by the enemy. Men scream like scared children when I shoot them, most of them never seeing me coming. At one point, I spin around a corner, ending up at such close range with an oncoming soldier that I literally throw one of my guns into his face. The impact knocks him backward. I shoot him with the other gun, pick up the thrown weapon, and then lift them both to take out two more guards emerging from the smoke, both armed with rifles.
I slowly draw the guards toward me, back toward headquarters. I see movement through the windows of the building, and I realize that President Banner is probably getting ready to make a run for it.
Not today.
With the remaining Sector 13 forces right on my tail, I lead them through the smoke. They are blinded by panic and confusion and darkness, and I sprint to the top of the steps of headquarters, pulling the final explosive from my pack. I toss it through the air, as far as I can. I count the seconds under my breath, and then I roll behind the corner of HQ as I squeeze the bomb trigger.
It explodes, and horrified screams are abruptly cut short as the blast throws dozens of bodies backward. Broken limbs and blood cover the ground, and my ears ring from the detonation. I manage to stand, peering through the smoke, seeing the death strewn at my feet. A small handful of guards turn tail and run.
I reload. I kick in the front door.
I’m in.
The first thing I notice about headquarters is that the table where we used to hold briefings is still here. The difference? There are five Sector 13 guards waiting for me when I walk in, taking cover behind that very same table.
Bang! I narrowly avoid the first shot, and then I pop a grenade off my belt, chucking it into the room. I take a step backward and crouch outside the door as it explodes, killing or at least seriously wounding the men inside.
I walk back in, keeping my gun up, tightly slinking through the room, stepping over the dead bodies. I don’t look at their faces, but I can smell the blood. The floor is literally soaked in it.
I move to the back of the building, where there are two more large meeting rooms. The first one is clear, but the second one is not. Two remaining guards block my way. I holster my guns and I pull my knife from its sheath on my hip. The first one bolts toward me, trying to get his rifle raised fast enough to take an accurate shot. I kick the rifle toward the floor and swing around him, wrapping my arm around his neck and dragging the tip of the blade across his carotid artery. Hot blood oozes across my hands and I step back. He gurgles and chokes, falling to the ground.
The last guard comes at me from behind, but I’m ready. I spin around, bracing my body with my right leg, and I spring up, forcing my knife into his heart, using my weight as leverage to drive it through skin and bone.
He chokes on a scream and stumbles backward. I pull my knife from his chest and he hits the ground, holding his heart, staring at me in abject horror. I look at him for a long moment, and then I enter the last room.
It’s long and narrow…and completely empty.
There’s nothing here except for a few folding chairs and maps of the Sierras tacked on the wall. But in the corner, I see a flicker a movement, and I tilt my head. A small crack slices through the wall and I walk to it, touching it with my finger. I slip my hand into the crack and pull backward. The wall slides sideways, and there is a door.
Bewildered, I stare at for a moment and then press my thumb against a steel button on the left. The doors slide open with a sharp hiss, and I realize that this is not just some hidden entrance to a secret room…it’s an elevator.
It’s the entrance to a bunker.
I step into the elevator and the doors slide shut behind me, s
ealing me inside. I swallow, noting also that there is only one option as far as buttons go in this elevator:
Down.
I press the down button and suddenly the elevator groans and begins to move. I reload my guns and hold them in front of me, ready for whatever is on the other side of this door when I reach the bottom. As I continue to drop, my ears pop, and I can feel the pressure of our descent.
This thing is taking me deep into the mountain.
After what feels like an eternity, the elevator halts, and a green light glows on the ceiling. I take a step backward and the doors slide open. I see nothing but filmy darkness, and I slowly move out.
I’m standing at the mouth of a long, dimly lit hallway. As I walk, white lights flicker on, and I can see my reflection. Mirrors line every wall. It’s so bizarre and clean, and when I come to the end of the hall, I stop again, blocked by yet another door.
There is a thin panel on the wall, meant for scanning handprints. I shake my head, wondering how I’m going to get in, and then behind me, the elevator doors shut and I am trapped down here. I curse under my breath, frustrated.
Where do I go from here? Where am I?
I’ve been to Camp Freedom a thousand times and never once did anyone say anything about a bunker hidden beneath headquarters…
I look to the wall above the door, and what I read there chills my bones:
Atlas One.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My mind reels.
Atlas One is under Camp Freedom? All this time…President Banner was hiding here?
And then the next question arises in my mind, and it’s not a pretty one:
Who else knew about this and didn’t tell me?
The thoughts flit out of my head like a flash of lightning, and suddenly the elevator doors behind me slide open once more. Two Sector 13 guards roar into the hall, guns blazing. I have nowhere to dive for cover, so I face them. I just raise my guns and I empty my mags, razing them down, watching them tumble to the floor in two bloody heaps. I kneel next to one of the dying men who is gasping and choking for air, struggling against the final throes of death.
“How do I get in?” I ask him.
He stares at me, and then his eyes quickly flick to his neck, and he breathes his last. The other soldier is already dead. I pull the collar back on the first man’s uniform, and I see a dog tag hanging there, along with a black disk with a red edge. I snap it off his neck and walk to the panel on the wall, holding the disk against the screen.
It doesn’t open.
I curse my luck, quickly working out a way to breach the door…and then the elevator opens one more time, and I’m ready to defend myself yet again.
I inhale with surprise.
First Lady Abbi Banner meets my gaze. She’s wearing a slick green pantsuit, her dark hair gathered in a bun high on her head. She is unarmed, and takes a step into the hallway.
“Cassidy,” she says. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
I don’t respond. I simply hold her at gunpoint.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
She walks forward, and I can see that her eyes are red and bleary from crying. Her coffee-colored skin is blotched, and I note the slight tremble of her hands.
“Are you here to kill my husband?” she asks, her tone shaky.
“Yes,” I reply. No point in lying. “He has to die.”
“I know.” She lifts her chin. “You’re not going to believe me, and God, I know you have no reason to…but when you rescued us from Veronica Klaus at Compound C…you really did rescue us. Neither I nor my daughter wanted to be there. Since I married Saul, every move I’ve made has been controlled. I’ve had no freedom. Always, I was just a chess piece in a global game, and so was Mary.”
“You tried to tell me about Damien Ramses, back in Cambria,” I say.
“I wanted to warn you. But I couldn’t…Saul would have killed me, and I had to protect my daughter.” She sighs. “I will do anything to keep my daughter alive, you must understand that. She’s all I have left in this world. I have no future in an Omega New Order. I’ll be cast aside once Saul – Damien – takes control with Veronica Klaus.”
I see profound pain in her expression, and I lower my gun.
“So why are you here?” I ask again.
She holds her hand against the panel on the wall, and it glows green.
The doors hiss open. She takes a step backward.
“Kill him,” she says. “Do what you must to protect this country.”
I look into her eyes – I see her fear, her fatigue, and her determination.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Get out of this state. Just disappear.”
“I plan on it.” She pauses. “We won’t meet again, General…but I will always remember you. Always.”
She blinks away tears.
“Good luck,” she whispers. “Don’t fail.”
She turns away, and then she is hurrying down the hall, toward the elevator. I shake myself, grateful for her help and hopeful that both she and Mary will be able to vanish into the fabric of this post-apocalyptic world and escape the wrath of Omega, free from the clutches of her husband and Veronica Klaus.
I step aside and I slowly dare a glance into the room before me. It’s huge – a literal mansion. Just ahead of me, there’s a massive sitting room filled with dozens of chairs. Beyond that, I see a room sealed with bulletproof glass, within which is a screen monitoring satellite footage. I don’t see any people.
The door shuts behind me, sealing me inside.
I lift my chin and keep walking.
It smells of copper and leather down here, and as I move through the sitting room, I enter a hallway lined with doors. They are all locked, so I continue until I come to a corridor that wraps around in a U-shape. I end up back at the bulletproof room and test the door. It’s unlocked, and I hesitantly enter the room with my guns tight and my fingers on the triggers.
The satellite feed is showing footage of Monterey.
I stare at it for a moment, seeing flashes of light and noting the presence of Admiral Boyd’s fleet on the border of the coastline. I look at the clock on the corner of the screen and realize that this is live footage, and I feel a small swell of hope, realizing that the fleet is still intact, and by the looks of it, the militias are still holding their ground.
I sense movement, and I spin around. I am not alone.
“Cassidy Hart,” Veronica Klaus says.
She emerges from the shadows in the corner of the room, and she is holding a gun. Her finger is on the trigger. She is pointing it at my head. Her skin is pale and her lips are blood-red. She wears a long white dress and boots, and a glittering tiara of diamonds tucked against her scalp, woven into her hair. She moves with a limp. I see a cast on her left arm.
Vera’s handiwork.
“Welcome to Atlas One,” Veronica says. “Have a seat.”
“Put the gun down,” I reply, unmoved.
“You’ll have to put yours down first, darling.”
I don’t move. I’m faster than she is – I can guarantee that.
“General Hart, just do as she says.”
The voice comes from behind me. I know who it is. I hear the click of a gun, the slide falling into place and the bullet moving into the chamber.
“President Banner,” I say quietly. “Finally.”
“Put down the guns or I’ll blow your brains out.”
I swallow, slowly lowering my weapons to the ground. I look around the room, searching for an advantage.
“You can’t work this one out, clever girl,” Veronica laughs, snidely. “You’re trapped down here. It’s over.”
Veronica kicks the guns out of reach, tucking them into the seat of a chair here in the satellite room. President Banner moves around me, giving me a wide berth, holding his gun level with my face.
“You’re here to kill me,” he states.
It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I say. “I n
ever should have trusted you.”
A smug smile touches his lips.
“You and I agree on one thing, at least,” he remarks.
He seems paler than the last time I saw him. He wears an all-white suit braided through with a black, swirling pattern. When I meet his gaze, I don’t see Saul Banner. I see Chancellor Damien Ramses, and the fury within me burns hotter than before.
I feel the disappointment and horror of his deception all over again, and I hate him for what he has done to this country – and for what he has done to me.
“Dear God,” Banner continues. “I’ve never seen anyone successfully penetrate this bunker before. I mean, damn. You killed a hundred men out there. All by yourself. No wonder you’ve got a reputation, General.”
“I’m a highly motivated person,” I deadpan.
“I told you she was dangerous,” Veronica says, and she is glaring at me. “You think that by coming here and killing Damien, you’re somehow going to save the world from Omega’s rule? You’re a fool. Omega is everywhere. There is no escaping us. We will always come back. It doesn’t matter who you kill.”
“Well, at least I could delay you for another two hundred years,” I reply.
“We’re going to kill you down here,” Veronica goes on, stepping closer. “And the West Coast will fall to Athena, and Banner will take his place as president, and the people will worship him because he is a man of integrity…and he will lay the groundwork for Omega’s existence for centuries to come. He will welcome my New Order with open arms.”
“That’s one hell of a Trojan horse,” I snort.
“We’re quite proud of it,” Veronica shrugs, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t you think we should keep her alive?” Banner asks. “She’s smart – she can fight. We could use her-”
“NO!” Veronica screams. “SHE HAS TO DIE.”
She looks at me again, and I see the spark of a crazed and power-hungry woman in her eyes. “I should have had you shot on sight when I had the chance in Hawaii,” she hisses. “Instead I got chatty…and Harry made his move. I should have killed him, too.”
