by Summer Lane
This truth is painful.
“I knew this would happen,” Chris goes on, looking away. “Whether by our choices or the choices that are forced upon us, I still fight for this country. Nothing has changed.”
“I fight for the people I love,” I reply sadly. “Who do you fight for, Chris?”
I push past him and leave HQ. I need to be alone for a moment.
I round the back of the building and find a slice of space where there is no one – I can hear the roar of the convoys and the murmur of voices. I see the Black Hawks rip overhead, and everything washes over me at once.
The war is coming to an end – for better or worse, I don’t know.
But I do know this: Chris Young is alive, but the revelation of what Beckham made him do – and the reality that I was allowed to believe the deception – is almost too much to bear.
God, I love Chris. I do. I always have – I always will. Yet this separation has changed something inside me. I hate that he cannot accept who I am, or what I’ve become. I hate that he faked his death and allowed me to suffer emotional agony, leaving me alone to fight a war we swore to fight together.
No, he did not do it on purpose. But it was done. It happened.
I look to the sea, and I lift my chin.
I am hurt, yes. But I am not broken.
I am stronger than this. I know I am.
I wipe my tears on the sleeve of my shirt and I close my eyes.
The last fight is here. I will face it with Chris – I will face it with my friends.
We will face it together, and that is how it is meant to be, win or lose. Whether or not I will ever learn to trust Chris again remains to be seen, but I don’t think that far ahead. I think about what I know, and what I hope for.
Victory.
I hope for victory, and I hope for an end to this war. I am prepared for the losses that are coming. With the added reinforcements of Chris’s newly formed militia coalition, we will fight one last time for what is ours, and what happens after…
Well, we’ll worry about that when we get there.
For now, there is nothing but war, and loyalty, and determination.
I am prepared.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I understand that there can be no victory without complete destruction.
As I look over the harbor of Monterey, I see the endless line of Blood Sharks, and I know that while we may be able to destroy even one million men on sheer willpower alone, there will always be more. Even without the leadership of Veronica Klaus and Damien Ramses, there are still chancellors who are left alive, and they will finish what they started. They will keep sending troops until we perish. It will never end.
Chris is standing with Father Kareem and Commander Anita Vega. Arlene and Manny are listening intently to his words. My men are incredibly encouraged and overjoyed to see that our beloved commander is still alive, and while I look to him for strategy, the fact remains that I still retain ultimate control of the militia’s movements. Chris’s authority is supreme only over the coalition that he has formed; he calls them the Hunters.
We spend hours poring over maps and working through numbers, figuring out ways to barricade the coastline using the Navy, the small shred of the Air Force that remains, and the troops we have positioned from Canada down to San Diego. It’s not impossible…but most of us will die. That is the grim and sad truth.
Chris speaks with confidence, trying to catch my eye. I look away and focus on the task at hand, because this is the final hour and I do not need to play games right now. Uriah stands to the side, stoic. He stares at the map, occasionally offering suggestions or ideas, directing them at me but never Chris.
Of everyone here, only a handful know that President Banner and Veronica Klaus are dead. It’s better than they do not know the truth – that they believe Banner was a good man, and that the first family was honest and pure. It’s better that they do not know that I killed the president…morale means everything these days.
Yet Uriah knows. Kareem knows. I think Manny has figured it out.
And now, Chris knows. I tell him quietly, when nobody else is listening. He stares at me, and I can see that it all makes sense to him: the blood, the wound, my disappearance from Monterey.
“You didn’t have to do it alone,” he whispers.
“I wanted to,” I reply. “I had to.”
He fists his hands and places them on the table.
“I have accepted who you are,” he tells me. “You know that, right? I can love you the way you are, today, right now. You don’t have worry about me not accepting-”
“Enough,” I interject, sharply. “Forget it. We’re not talking about this right now.”
He nods, respecting my wishes.
“So Klaus is finally dead,” he mutters. “And Ramses…that’s a blow to Omega’s leadership. Two of their seven chancellors are dead.”
“Banner told us about a place in Beijing called Olympus,” I go on. “He was baiting me…I know that, now. But is there any truth in it?”
“Yes,” Chris replies. “Beckham told me about Olympus. It exists, and it’s where the surviving five chancellors are dictating the movements of their forces across the globe.”
I bite my lip and then take a step away from the table.
“It’s time,” I tell him. “You know I’m right.”
“If there’s another way-” he begins, but I cut him off.
“For once, trust me,” I say.
He swallows and answers, “I trust you, Cassidy.”
I force a smile.
“Well,” I say. “That’s a first.”
Father Kareem moves to the table, and I quickly assemble the remaining militia leaders into the room. I look at my watch.
“We have approximately two hours until the next wave of Omega troops arrive,” I announce. “And when this fifth attack occurs, there will be no more breaks between the rest of the attacks.” I gesture to grainy footage transmitting to us live from Boyd’s fleet and his drones. “It will be a constant wall of troops, and we will eventually be forced to fall back. We can hold them out for now, but we have to be realistic. We are outnumbered.”
“We know this,” Vera remarks. “Why are we rehashing the same old information?”
“Because I want everyone here to know exactly where we are right now,” I answer. “When we seized those nuclear weapons at Ohana Base in Hawaii, we knew we were seizing more than just weapons. We were seizing leverage and power. I didn’t want to use that power unless we absolutely had to. But I think now is the time to selectively unleash the nuclear punch.”
“So we bomb Omega?” Andrew asks.
“Glory, glory, hallelujah!” Manny exclaims. “It’s about time.”
“We take out Olympus in Beijing,” I amend. “We destroy the chancellors and the epicenter of Omega’s operations.” I hold up a piece of paper. “These are the rest of the Omega leadership hotspots across the globe: North Korea, Syria, Turkey, Germany, and Russia. After Olympus is destroyed, we allow Omega the option to retreat and surrender. If not…we destroy the rest of their bases.”
“I don’t see why we should give them a chance to surrender,” Elle suddenly interjects. “We should kill them all before they can do anything to return fire.”
“I know,” I agree. “But they can consider this a warning shot. After that, we don’t hold back.”
This is something we unanimously agree on. After everything, we are at last willing to utilize the weaponry that we need to take the next step in destroying the enemy. Desmond makes a brief appearance after our meeting. He cleans and dresses my wound, and I am able to change into a clean uniform. I gather my gear and, along with Vera, we get ready to fly out to Admiral Boyd’s supercarrier, the Roberta.
“So,” Vera says, checking to make sure no one is listening. “You disappear for two days without notice…Uriah knows where you went, and so does Kareem, but nobody else has cared to enlighten me. And then, while you’re
gone, Chris comes back from the dead.” She raises an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”
“I didn’t know Chris was alive,” I reply. “He lied to me.”
“I know.” She pauses. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”
“It’s not the first time.”
“Cassidy, tell me honestly. Did you kill the president?”
I don’t respond. I jam a bag of painkillers into my pack. It’s the only thing keeping me going at this point…but it could be worse. A lot worse.
Vera looks at me long and hard, but she says nothing.
She knows. I can see it on her face.
“Listen,” she whispers. “If we…well, if we die today-”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I know.”
And I embrace her. We stand there for a long time, wrapped in a warm hug, and the memory of every battle we have ever endured together is present for a moment. From the beginning, when I initially hated her guts at Camp Freedom, until now, as a dear friend and comrade in battle. I never thought I would get this far with her…but life has a way of surprising you.
“Sister,” she whispers, and she wipes a tear away from her eye. “Sisters in battle.”
“Sisters,” I agree. “Always. No matter what.”
We fist bump, and then we sling our gear over our shoulders and we head outside, toward the Black Hawk waiting in the open area just beyond HQ. It is so strange to see Chris standing near the chopper, his hair short and cropped for the first time since I met him. I can see the scar from the surgery performed by Dr. Woods on his scalp – a red line, fiery and fresh. He cradles his gun in his arms, watching me with a solemn expression.
He is so calm and steady in this chaos of war, and I love him for that.
But the pain of his lie and deception hits me in the face every time I meet his gaze, and I feel the sting of it all over again. I force myself to look away, and I stay close to Vera as we climb into the Black Hawk.
We bring the entire team with us, intending to stick together in this moment of monumental change. We are about to alter the face of the war, and I want to be surrounded by the people who have helped us get to this place. Even Arlene comes with us. She sits close to Manny, and Elle sits beside her with Bravo. The dog looks tired, but his eyes are sparkling with the same energy and loyalty that he has always shown.
Chris sits beside me. His leg presses against my knee. The warmth of his body reminds me that yes, he is alive. He is not some phantom specter come to haunt me…and I move my knee away, wondering if the shock of his faked demise will ever subside.
Give it time, I think. The hurt will fade.
I hope so.
Uriah takes the last seat beside me, and we lock eyes. I can feel the tension between us, like a sheet of electricity waiting to shock us both. I stare straight ahead, and I focus my attention on Bravo and think about the things to come.
We are taking the next step.
And we are doing it together.
***
When we touch down on the Roberta, Admiral Boyd meets us on deck. His expression is grave, and he looks as tired as the rest of us.
“Commander Young,” he says, offering his hand to Chris. “It’s good to see that you’re alive. We’ve needed you.”
Chris nods.
We don’t waste any time on deck. The ship is full of activity, and I feel like an ant stranded on a twig adrift at sea. The Athena troop transports are floating on the horizon, and their nearness is frightening.
We climb into the control tower, looking across the flight deck. Admiral Boyd closes the door and all of us walk into the big room.
“So,” he says, “the time has come.”
“Yes,” I reply. “Your target is Olympus.”
Admiral Boyd folds his arms across his chest, bowing his head.
“I need the nuclear codes,” he tells me.
Desmond steps forward, a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. We unlock the cuffs and he hands it to the admiral, looking like a scared rabbit. He lets the briefcase go as reluctantly as someone might hand over an infant to a complete stranger.
“I have heard,” Admiral Boyd continues, slowly unlocking the briefcase, “that President Banner was not who he claimed to be.”
“You heard correctly,” Chris replies. “But for the good of the country…”
“Say no more. I understand.” He barely smiles. “Let’s end this.”
He clicks open the case and inside, the nuclear codes await activation. The officers in the room peer at it, awed. They now hold the keys to massive destruction on this ship, and everybody here is slightly afraid of that power.
The officers begin their work, transmitting possible targets and unlocking the codes.
I am about to tell Admiral Boyd about the rest of our strategy – how we plan on seeing if Omega will surrender after we destroy Olympus, and if they do not, how we will follow the strike with more bombs around the globe – when the ship rocks violently. Something has struck us, and the intensity of the impact actually knocks me off my feet, throwing me to the other side of the control tower. The tower dips forward. I hit the glass, and I see the Pacific beneath me. For a moment, we are suspended sideways, and I hear Vera scream and Bravo yelp as Elle twists her body under his to save him from hitting the glass too hard.
“Incoming!” somebody yells inside the tower.
Incoming? We’ve already been hit!
But I can see the movement outside the window, and as the ship rocks backward again, I watch the Blood Sharksmoving toward shore. They are firing at the fleet as they move, and I realize that Boyd and his men have probably been dealing with these attacks for days.
Boom! Boom!
Small missiles slice through the air. One of them strikes the flight deck and explodes, shuddering through the supportive bones of the massive supercarrier. Admiral Boyd shouts commands, and a siren begins screaming.
“Here’s the next round of attacks!” Boyd yells.
“TAKE COVER!” Elle screams.
One of the small missiles from the oncoming Omega ships takes a sudden turn and smashes into the control tower. It detonates the space above our heads, and part of the ceiling explodes into the room. Everything is ablaze with fire, and several people are killed at their desks, an instant death.
Boom, boom, boom.
The rockets striking the Roberta burst in red bubbles.
Rocket’s red glare, I think, absently.
And then the ship is turned on its side again and we are sliding and falling, smashing into the wall. Em screams. Devin catches her arm and breaks her fall with his body. Chris grabs the back of my head, saving my skull from smacking against the wall. Bravo yelps again.
More rockets. More jarring, shaking, shuddering, creaking.
The ship jerks in the opposite direction, and this time, the thick glass shatters. I feel myself falling, twisting through the air like a cat, desperately hoping to land on my feet. I see the broken glass beneath me, see the deck below.
I’m going to fall all the way to the bottom: to my death.
We all are.
As I near the window, time moves in slow motion, like a videotape being run at half-speed. I reach out my hand and my fingers close around Chris’s wrist. He grabs my arm and catches the edge of the windowsill.
Bam!
The suspension of time halts. Pain races through my arm as he stops our fall. I scream, dangling over the deck below, pieces of broken glass raining around my head. Elle, Bravo, and Manny hit the plate of glass still intact. Spiderwebs of cracks explode beneath their fingers and feet.
“Get off the glass!” Em shouts.
The ship slowly rocks upright again, and Chris and I are hanging on for dear life. Our hands are slicked with sweat. I feel myself slipping from his grip. Chris forces his arm over the sill, groaning with the weight of keeping both of us hanging.
“Gotcha!” Uriah yells.
He grabs the collar of Chris’s jacket and hoists him up, then wraps his arms
around me, pulling me to safety. I throw my arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” I gasp.
It’s not over. Not yet.
“Boyd!” I yell. “Admiral!”
He is hanging over the desk, blood dripping from his mouth, covering his head.
“Admiral!” I stumble to him. “Admiral Boyd! Look at me!”
He groans, peering at me through a curtain of blood, coughing. Metal shrapnel has impaled his chest.
“God,” Em shudders. “No, no. Boyd, don’t die. Come on, hang in there!”
Bravo jumps forward, licking Boyd’s face, whining low in his throat.
Don’t give up, he seems to say. Stay with us, Admiral.
Gritty common sense seizes me, and I know what we have to do. I exchange a quick glance with Chris. “Admiral,” I say. I hand him the receiver of the radio, the scream of battle and rockets and explosions filling the air. “Give the order.”
He coughs.
“Just bloody do it!” Manny yells. He’s holding Arlene, his hair matted with blood.
The information has been given – the targets are set. The nuclear subs are merely waiting for the kill order. If he doesn’t do it now, if the Roberta goes down without the order…
“Green light ALL of them,” I say. “Every target.”
Death is everywhere – all around me. This is the price we have paid. In this moment, the truth becomes clear. This is no avoiding destroying Omega. Without Boyd and the fleet, we will lose communication with the nuclear subs waiting to dump their payload, and our final failsafe will be gone.
We have to destroy them all. All of Omega – all the heads, all the hotspots.
“Green light everything!” I grit, grabbing Boyd’s collar, yelling. “Please.”
He meets my gaze, and I know that he understands.
“This is Admiral Boyd, Mission Control,” Boyd says, his voice broken, his breathing ragged. “Condition red, code Zeus. Go Foxtrot 16, key code 9392. All targets are a green light. I repeat, all targets are a green light. Geronimo.”
Admiral Boyd looks up at me, the receiver dropping from his fingers.
A cold shudder runs through my body.
The plan is always changing, the execution always evolving. One attack leads to another, and every death makes us more desperate. Just a few moments ago, we were setting up to destroy one target…and now we are destroying all of them.
