by Summer Lane
Admiral Boyd breathes his last. His body goes still, preceded by one, single shuddering cough. A tear runs down my cheek, and I wipe it away.
“We have to get off the ship,” I say.
The nukes are launching, the nukes are launching, I think.
Over and over again, like an endless loop.
“The targets Boyd just greenlit will destroy every Omega hotspot from Olympus in Beijing to the Omega base camps in Russia!” Andrew yells. “We just leveled the planet!”
“We just leveled the enemy!” I reply.
Did we? Have we made the right choice?
Get real, Cassidy. What other choice did you have?
The fact that we have swung wildly about in our decisions with these nuclear weapons is not lost on me. The will to survive and the desire to destroy Omega has gotten us this far, and if we cannot use our weapons to meet our needs…I suppose we have failed.
The hull of the ship explodes. The starboard aft splinters apart into a cloud of black smoke and shrapnel. The ship tanks forward, its nose bubbling into the water.
“WE’RE SINKING!” Vera yells. “Oh, my God! We have to get OFF!”
The Roberta is going down. Good God. The supercarrier has been ripped apart by the Blood Sharks’ weaponry. I don’t believe it. But my disbelief is overpowered by the reality. The sinking of this supercarrier will create a massive whirlpool vacuum in the sea that will drag us all to a crushing death.
“MOVE IT!” I shout.
We have minutes. Mere minutes.
I can feel the ship slipping into the sea – a slow descent into the freezing water. We swing out the window, climbing down the sides of the control tower, stumbling onto the deck below. The smoke tears through my vision, burning my eyes. The deck is slanting. Dead seamen are everywhere. Chris yells to the sailors left alive to come with us, to get in whatever aircraft they can and get the hell off this vessel.
We head toward the Black Hawk that brought us here. Manny tears into the cockpit, throwing the headset on, screaming commands at Uriah and Andrew. I grab a seat and hold on. Sailors cram into the chopper – as many as we can hold. Most of the crew is already dead, but I see other seamen clawing their way onto other Black Hawks and aircraft on deck.
You’ll survive, I tell myself. All of you will get off this ship alive.
I hold on, catching my breath. I grab the seat as the blades begin turning, tossing supercharged billows of air across the deck. The ship tilts more, and Elle holds onto Bravo, her arms locked around his neck. I close my eyes, praying, praying, praying.
I feel the Black Hawk lift off. I think of Boyd’s body in the control tower, consumed by Pacific, his last act on earth, giving the kill order to hit every Omega hotspot overseas.
“How many targets are on the kill list?” I ask Andrew, the rotor wash nearly drowning out my voice.
“Seventeen!” he shouts. “We just leveled China, Russia, Turkey, Syria, Afghanistan…basically the entire Middle East. The world’s about to catch fire!”
I lean my head against the seat, numb.
I see the world in my mind’s eye, consumed in nuclear flames.
Look what you have done to us, Omega. You have forced us to kill you with fire.
The chopper lifts higher into the air, and I hear Manny hoot and holler, obviously pleased with himself for getting the aircraft off the deck in one piece. Rockets whistle past us, and I wince.
Let us make it to shore, let us make it to shore.
We cut through the air, jerking and bumping through turbulence. Manny swings the chopper violently. He yells something to Devin who joins him in the cockpit. Em looks sick. I can see the shoreline, a small streak in the distance.
It seems so far.
Behind us, I twist my head, watching the Roberta, a hulking monstrosity of power cloaked in destruction, devoured by the sea and lost to us forever.
***
Manny saves us. He lands the Black Hawk on the edge of the city, in the midst of the chaos, and we are alive. The seamen pour out of the aircraft, and I am one of the last to get out, pushed back by the mass of bodies desperate to set foot on land. Some kiss the earth, raising their hands to the heavens, thankful to God to be alive.
The Blood Sharksare here. Omega troopers are entering the city by the thousands. As if in a dream – or perhaps a nightmare would be more accurate – I see the last of my team exit the Black Hawk. Manny and Arlene clear it just as an Omega RPG slices through the sky. It nails the chopper. The aircraft explodes in a brilliant cascade of smoke and fire. I’m knocked to the ground by the force of the detonation. I struggle to my feet, searching for my friends through the smoke.
I see no one.
Where are you? Come on, come on!
I force myself through the carnage, into the city streets. I don’t see signs of anyone. It’s as if they have vanished into the smoke, absorbed by the masses of Omega troops moving through the roads.
I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll fall.
So I run. I move, I put one foot in front of the other. I keep my rifle close to me and I fight forward, inch by painful inch. I scream the names of my friends, and I still can’t find them. I must be halfway into the city by now. Every time I turn a corner, Omega troops are waiting. I fall back, try again, looking for another way.
“Devin!” I shout.
I catch sight of him through the insanity. He is cornered by dozens of troops, pushing up against a wall. I grip my gun, ready to move.
I am too late. I see the gunshots – hear them.
I see Devin fall. The troops wash over him like a flood, trampling his body underfoot. I scream his name, and then I watch as Em crawls through the smoke and lays her head against his chest, Omega troops smashing their bodies against the pavement as if they were nothing more than insignificant insects. Em and Devin’s fingers interlock and then the smoke swirls around them once more and they are hidden from me. I call their names as the buildings burn around us, but it is too late and I know it.
I force my way through the blood-soaked streets and I follow the specks of daylight breaking through the chaos. Every bone in my body aches, and I can feel the throbbing pulse of the wound above my hip, the hot pain in my hand. My head pounds, my lips are cracked and parched. I want to collapse and be done with this pain, but the battle crashes on. I move as if wading through water. Shadows attack me and I defend myself. I survive because of instinct and knowledge – certainly not because of strength. No, at this point, I am played out, and only sheer willpower is keeping me on my feet.
When I reach the rise of the hill, I see Elle crouched behind a car, holding Bravo’s head in her lap. She is crying, and I run to her. I hunker down, protecting myself from the gunfire and the troops moving inland. Bravo looks up at me, his eyes flecked with pain. His head is matted with blood, and Elle stares into my eyes.
“Is he dying?” she chokes.
“No!” I reply. “He’s just hurt!”
Of course, I don’t know that this is true. I say the words to give Elle hope, to keep her moving. I touch his nose and he slowly licks my hand. Tears spring to my eyes. I lean forward and kiss his wet nose.
“You’ll be okay!” I promise. “Elle, you have to protect him. You have to keep moving!”
“He’s hurt!” she screams.
“I’ll help you move him!”
I look around the car, seeing the Omega troops continue their push up the hill. Our time is running out. I help Elle get Bravo on his feet. He stands there half-heartedly, groaning low in his throat.
“Come on, buddy!” Elle begs. “We have to move. We’ll die if we don’t.”
Bravo hobbles forward, and then he takes another step, and another. He moves slowly, but at least he’s making progress. I grip his collar tightly and help the dog remain upright, taking the strain off his front left paw, which seems to be twisted or broken. We push our way forward, up the hill, picking our way through the wreckage, until we come at last to the highway. The militia
is holed up here, and as we approach, Manny and Andrew emerge from the front lines and sprint to our side.
“What happened?” Andrew asks, breathless.
“Got separated,” I grit. “I think the RPG split everybody up. Here, grab Bravo.”
Manny exclaims, “Poor sap. Looks like he’s got a broken paw.”
Both Manny and Andrew hoist the dog up and move him to the safety of the barricaded frontlines. Andrew sets to work caring for the dog – he is just as important to us as anyone else here, dog or not. I watch with bated breath as he splints the paw, wrapping it. Bravo licks Andrew’s face.
“You’re welcome, buddy,” Andrew says. “Stay strong out there.”
Elle sighs, relieved, and kisses Bravo’s forehead. I slip into the lineup of militia soldiers, hundreds of men gathered, waiting for the clash with Omega troopers.
I look around, forces of militiamen and women stretched farther than I can see through the fog and smoke. It resembles an ancient fight – man against man, a medieval battleground.
“Where’s Chris?” I ask Manny.
As if in answer to my question, Chris emerges from the militia crowd, and Uriah slips in behind him.
“Em and Devin are dead,” I say grimly.
For me, the shock of their death will come later.
Chris flinches, bowing his head.
He says nothing, but I see the pain in his face. Uriah doesn’t break my gaze.
“They’re coming fast,” I go on. “There’s at least two thousand of them…”
Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolls. It’s as if someone is sounding a death knell. Yet despite the eeriness of it, a strange sense of peace settles over me. I climb on the hood of one of the vehicles sitting on the highway, the smudge of Omega troopers growing closer as the fog begins to roll back into the sea.
“This is our last fight!” I say, raising my voice. I look across the sea of faces staring at me – worn and tired faces, men and women who have been worn so thin by this ongoing war that they seem to be only shells of their former selves.
“Omega’s leaders are gone!” I go on. “The chancellors are dead! We have destroyed every major Omega base from Beijing to Turkey. This right here – this battle for California and the west coast? This is our last stand! We can do this. We’ve fought for this. Every skirmish, every ambush, every death, and every drop of blood that has been shed has led us to this moment. Now is the time where we draw on the strength that we have left and destroy our enemy.”
Slits of golden sunlight break through the storm clouds, setting the ruined battleground of Monterey ablaze with a magnificent glow.
“Omega no longer has their drones, their satellites, or their reinforcements!” I continue, shouting to be heard above the roar of the wind. “Those things were taken away from them with the destruction of their global bases across the world. We are on an even playing field now. It’s man against man, gun against gun, and fist against fist. We have the advantage. We are guerilla warfighters. We have been, since day one. Keep them moving, keep them confused. Lead them into the kill zone. Snipers – get on your rooftops and settle down. Pick off every trooper that comes into your sights. Lieutenants, stay with your platoons. Listen to the radio – General Young and I will be giving our orders. Our advantage here is our flexibility and our familiarity with the land. We can do this – we can. This is about winning so that our children can know peace. We have no choice but to succeed, because the future of this world is counting on us.”
“Oo-rah!” someone shouts from the crowd, a former Marine from Chris’s unit.
“Freedom Fighters!” a woman returns.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The chant is picked up by everyone in the crowd, until it is so loud that it thunders over the sound of the wind and the rumbling of the vehicles on the highway. Manny and Elle raise their fists, and then Vera is raising hers along with Andrew’s, and the Mad Monks are joining in and Chris is looking at me with tears in his eyes, and he is smiling.
My lip trembles at the display of comradery and unification. The chant grows louder and louder, and I feel the power of it, the way it binds us together and supercharges our resolve to stand firm and fight.
“Freedom Fighters!” I yell, raising my fist.
I look to Uriah.
Behind me, Omega is coming in a mad rush. I make a motion. The chanting fades away, and the snipers are vanishing into the side streets and buildings to find their nests, and the militia units are splitting up, surrounding the oncoming troopers until we have formed a massive, human ring around the city. Omega can go nowhere except back to the sea – and all that awaits there is destruction, because their leaders are gone and China has been weakened by our nuclear attacks.
I swing my rifle into my arms, clicking in a new mag. I slowly step off the truck, jumping to the ground. Father Kareem’s Mad Monks disperse like ghosts into the city, finding their position along with the rest of the militia fighters.
Father Kareem himself places his hands on my shoulders. He touches my cheek and says, “My child, today we meet our future, be it death or victory. Either way, you have fulfilled the prophecy, just as it was foretold you would. You have brought unification to our people and destruction to the enemy with the fires of nuclear weaponry. You have brought vengeance on our enemies for the deaths they have caused us.”
I take his hand.
“No,” I say. “We did all this together.”
Father Kareem smiles.
“You are a great leader,” he whispers.
And then he is gone, whisked into the smoke of the oncoming fight, and I am facing Chris and Uriah. They stand several feet apart, and for a moment I don’t know what to do. I want to hug them both, tell them that I love them, and that no matter what happens…nothing can change our loyalty to each other. Nothing.
I hold out my hand, glancing between them, and Uriah takes a step forward, placing his hand on mine. Chris slowly places his hand on Uriah’s, and I say, “Live or die, serving with you in this war has been the ultimate honor of my life. I hope you know that. Both of you.”
“And I hope you know,” Chris replies, solemnly, “that I feel the same.”
Uriah nods, silent, and we take a step backward, and then we face the enemy and I feel the rise of hope in my chest, the acceptance of this violent finale – win or lose.
Until our hearts stop beating. We will never give up.
Never.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When we take our last stand, I remember.
I remember Jeff Young, and his sweet naïveté, his loyalty to the cause of freedom. I remember the pained and tortured conscience of Sophia Rodriguez, and how her desperation to survive drove her to turn on us. I remember Harry Lydell, once so harmless and kind, turned corrupt by the arrival of Omega. I remember my father, and his valiant leadership of the original militia movement in California, the Mountain Rangers. I remember John Young, Chris’s father. I remember Angela Wright, Colonel Rivera, and Alexander Ramos. I remember the look on Cheng’s face when he died, the sadness in his eyes and the brokenness it fostered in Elle.
I remember the bodies. The first bodies I saw in Los Angeles, and the millions I have seen since. I remember the first time I shot someone – in the woods, with a rifle – and I remember the first time I realized that I was not just living but surviving. I remember kissing Chris for the first time in his parents’ barn, before Omega burned it to the ground. I remember meeting Uriah at Camp Freedom and then getting to know him during Operation Angel Pursuit. I remember being tortured in Sky City, and I remember what the sky looked like the first time it was poisoned with the radiation fallout from an Omega nuclear bomb.
I remember years of suffering. Loss. Death. Pain. Disappointment.
All of it…leading to this moment now, one final sucker punch.
I am with Chris and Uriah, and we watch the battle from the rooftop of a large building on the edge of the city. Once a hotel, it
is now nothing more than an excellent lookout point. We are easily twelve stories up, and I can clearly see everything from here.
I rest my rifle on the side of the building and watch Omega as they scramble up the shores, biting my lip. There are so many of them. I brace myself as they flood the streets, madly pushing their way inside the militia perimeters. They know what has happened to the chancellors, and they know that there will be no reinforcements or Omega rescues.
They are on their own, and in a way, they are just as desperate as we are.
The area around our building is heavily seeded with landmines, and as the troops cross over the militia boundaries, they trigger the bombs. It’s like watching the sea wash across the mainland – only this sea is comprised of armed bodies, and they are swarming the building like an angry hive of wasps.
Andrew and Vera stand together, picking off troopers as fast as they can. I do the same beside Chris, and Uriah is keeping watch with Manny on the south side. Arlene is hidden away from the frontlines, protected by Elle, who is nursing Bravo.
If we survive, we will see each other again.
If.
Chris’s reinforcements are spread across the state, but the bulk of them are concentrated here, where Omega is hitting us the hardest. The radio gurgles with sound bites from militia up and down the coastline. Oregon is standing strong, and so is Washington. Even Alaska radios in, proudly announcing that they have actually driven Omega back into the sea.
This is hopeful news, but it does not change the fact that all of us here in Monterey are in a serious do-or-die situation. I watch with chagrin as troopers break into the lower levels of the hotel by the dozens, sweeping inside.
“Inside!” I yell. “Chris?”
“Got it!” he replies.
He grabs his rifle and swings off the roof, and it is just like old times again, and I look at him and feel so much love and affection that I can barely contain it. I rush through the roof door and hurry down a flight of stairs, emptying into a hallway with a railing. Here, the hotel forms twelve stories of railed hallways that look into an atrium – once filled with blooming flowers and lush ferns, it is now dried up and empty. I look below at the troopers on the first story, and I pick them off as fast as I can. There are so many, though. Dozens get inside the stairwells, madly pushing closer to our position.
