by Summer Lane
The thought occurs to me then that I should ask him right now about his wife. His former wife? His current wife? Whatever she is or was, I need to know the truth. Manny told me not to worry about it, but…
“I couldn’t find my father,” I say instead.
Chris’s expression conveys shock.
“Did you search the whole hospital?” he asks.
“Every room,” I answer. “Every bed. I didn’t see him. He’s not listed as a patient.”
For the first time in a very long time, Chris looks genuinely sad.
“I’m sorry, Cassie,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
I blink back tears and stare at the ground.
“It is what it is,” I state, hollow.
“If I could fix it-”
“-But you can’t.” I swallow a lump in my throat.
“Nobody can.”
I tighten the strap of my backpack and nod toward Uriah and Vera, standing in the corner of the train station. Andrew is waiting there as well, and Sophia has popped up, too.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Chris says nothing. He merely nods and studies my face. So I stay in front of him. I don’t want him to see the hot tears burning in my eyes. Not today. I’m the Senator now, and I have to maintain the appearance of being totally calm and in control.
To me, that is irony at its cruelest.
The back of the building opens to a sprawling parking lot. Across the lot there are loading platforms for the Amtrak trains, but the directional signs have been removed, replaced with National Guard instructions and warnings. There are old Amtrak cars on the track, painted muted shades of brown and green, blending with the earth. There are anti-aircraft guns mounted to a flatbed car and men with machine guns and RPGs.
“This locomotive survived the EMP?” I ask.
“Not entirely,” Andrew explains. “Most diesel engines are hybrids – a combination of electric and diesel – and this one wasn’t any different. The National Guard retrofitted some of the locomotives to make them entirely diesel. This is one of them.”
The engine is a dull brown with dark green patches. By the time we reach the loading dock, the engine is roaring to life and the National Guard is busy assigning troops to the train.
“We’re in the middle car,” Chris says. “Your security detail will be spread out throughout the train.”
I nod, understanding.
My security detail is made up of Uriah, Andrew, Chris, Vera and almost two dozen other militiamen and women who have volunteered for this mission. It’s intense, knowing that all of the people here are risking their lives for this mission– but I know it’s not for me. It’s for the safekeeping of California as a whole. For the survival of our country.
If I think of it like that, I’ll be able to get through this, I tell myself.
The doors on the train open. I step up inside the train. The flooring and the walls are gray. The tables are gray. The seats are gray. In fact, everything looks gray.
“I don’t like the windows,” Vera comments.
The windows have been reduced to small gun ports with steel plates welded over them. The roofs of the train cars have been covered with sandbags and armed men. There is a rail car ahead on the track loaded with guns and soldiers. I peek through the small slit of a window and search the skies for Manny’s biplane. I can’t see him, but he is up there somewhere. Nearby.
“We’ll keep her away from the windows,” Chris replies.
Her, of course, means me.
“It’s all we have right now,” Chris offers, as if reading my mind.
I sigh. “Where should I sit?”
“In the corner.” Chris cracks a wry grin. There is a large table in the corner of the car, away from the windows. “Try to stay seated the whole time, if you can. The less movement there is, the less chance of anyone being able to see where you’re sitting.” He’s right.
I sit in the far seat in the corner, surrounded by more sandbags. There are papers and documents here, notebooks and pencils. Maps, outlines and mission rosters. I pick up a pencil and scan the items. I need to assemble my strategy for the negotiations, and the long train ride to Monterey is as good of a time as any.
“I want to get familiar with the layout of the train,” Andrew announces.
“You can do a recon,” Chris concedes. “Take the others with you.”
Andrew, Vera and Uriah slip out of the car, checking the other parts of the train. I stare at the emergency map on the wall, getting familiar without moving from my seat.
“I know what’s bothering you,” Chris begins as soon as we are alone. “And you need to understand that what happened in my past has nothing to do with you.”
I don’t remove my gaze from the wall. Hearing Chris talk about his past like it’s a secret, inaccessible thing makes me sick to my stomach. I’ve told him everything about me…he’s told me almost nothing about himself. I only know what I have seen.
“It has everything to do with me,” I say softly, “because I’m a part of you now.”
At this, Chris’s expression changes. He’s always so good at maintaining a poker face – never letting his true emotions shine through. But for a brief, surprising moment, he looks taken aback.
Completely surprised.
“Hey boss,” Uriah says, popping back into the car. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Chris composes himself immediately, and the flash of emotion is gone.
“Sure,” he replies. “Coming.”
I fold my hands in my lap, clenching my jaw. After a good half an hour of getting ready, the doors on the train car slide shut and the core members of my security detail return to the train car that I am sitting in.
I wonder, briefly, what the outcome of this mission will be.
Will we fail? Will we survive?
Will I do my job correctly?
Go with your gut, common sense tells me. Plan your goals and objectives just like you’re planning a mission. Just like Operation Angel Pursuit. Know the game, and you can win. Be strategic. Be tactical. Use that pure instinct that you have on the battlefield.
Pure instinct, eh? I’d be way more comfortable staked out on a roof with a rifle. It’s what I have become used to. It’s what has become routine. But this? This is a whole new ballgame.
A lot rides on me. I know that.
I just hope I can live up to California’s expectations.
Chapter Five
“How do you think the world will end, Dad?” I ask, sitting on the stool next to the kitchen counter. Dad is opening a jar of chili, halfway listening to my chatter. “Daaaaad. Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Cassie, I heard you.” Dad opens the can and smiles. “I don’t know.”
“I know.”
“Really? Care to share?”
I push back my curly red hair and lean over the counter. All ten years of my wisdom have accumulated to come up with this theory. “Aliens,” I say.
Dad busts up laughing.
“What?” I demand. “It could happen!”
Dad shakes his head.
“It could,” he replies. “But probably not. The end of the world will likely be significantly less dramatic than an alien invasion.”
“Then how do you think it will end?”
Dad musses my hair.
“I hope it never does, kiddo.”
The first hour of the train ride is slow. In order to leave the station, we have to cross a trestle that stretches across the Sacramento River. It’s huge, old and rusty. I don’t like the looks of it. We roll along. The train sways right and left, enough to make you sick - if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing.
“Cassidy?”
The connecting doors between the cars opens. Uriah steps inside. He immediately gauges the sitting positions of Chris and myself, then raises an eyebrow. I give him a look.
“Um…I thought you might want to meet someone,” Uriah says, turning his attention completely to me. “This i
s Elle Costas. She has the bomb dog.”
This is a real asset for the security detail – or any military team – to have a dog that can detect explosives or poison. Dogs in warzones overseas and with local law enforcement agencies in the states have saved the lives of countless people by locating lethal explosives and caches of weapons buried in roadways and ambush points.
I sit up straight. A sleek, beautiful German Shepherd walks into the car. He is calm, trained to maintain control even in a closed, moving train car. His eyes are dark and I immediately take a liking to him. He’s wearing a black vest.
His handler is holding him by a thick leash and harness. It’s a girl. She’s young, probably in her teens. It’s hard to tell her age, exactly. Glistening black hair is cut short. Her eyes are clear and blue. There is a scar on her left cheek. A black shirt is tucked into black combat pants and boots.
“Senator Hart,” she says softly, nodding.
“Hello,” I reply. “You’re Elle?”
“Yes.”
“I like that name.” I gesture toward the dog. “What’s your dog’s name?”
“Bravo,” she says.
“How did you get into dog handling? You seem…young.”
Elle glances at Chris, who is studying her closely.
“I am young,” she replies. “I found this dog. Actually, he found me. Didn’t know he was a bomb dog at first, but the militias in the Central Valley did. They taught me how to work with him. He’s a rarity, anymore, Senator.”
I watch the dog closely. He’s a beautiful creature, really.
“This is Commander Chris Young,” I say, nodding toward Chris. “You’ve already met Uriah and the rest of the Lieutenants?”
Elle replies, “Yes.” She tilts her head toward Chris. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Chris crosses his arms.
“How old is your dog?” he asks.
Elle shrugs. “I’m guessing three or four,” she answers.
“Interesting that he’s taken a liking to you.” Chris stands up. At six feet, four inches, he is a giant compared to the tiny Elle. She stares at him. “Take care of your dog, and he’ll take care of you.”
Chris nods at Uriah. “I’ll be back. Stay with the senator.”
He exits the train car.
“Sit down, Elle,” I say, pointing to the seat across from my table. “Tell me about yourself.”
I briefly remove my gaze from the myriad of plans and rosters on the table in front of me, focusing on the young, dark haired girl. Elle slowly takes a seat, her dog alert and calm beside her.
“Where are you from, Elle?”
A girl this young should not be alone, working with the militia and the National Guard. But here she is. I don’t ask the obvious: Where is your family? She, like me, has probably lost hers.
“Hollywood,” she replies.
“Really? I’m from Culver City,” I answer. “I was just there a couple of weeks ago,” I reply.
“In Hollywood?”
“Well, downtown Los Angeles. Toluca Lake.” I look at Uriah. “We were both there. On a mission.”
“Is there anything left?” Elle leans forward. She looks desperate. “Is the Klan still in control?”
“The Klan?”
“When I was living in Hollywood, after the EMP and the chemical weapons, most of Los Angeles was overrun by a gang called the Klan. They’re pretty brutal.” She pauses. “I was at a ranch in the Tehachapi Mountains. My Uncle’s place, after the EMP. I went back afterwards…it was empty. He was gone. Everything I thought I knew was changed. That fast.” Elle bites her lip, the ghost of bad memories dancing in her eyes.
I know that look. I’ve been there.
“Well, Mexico has been pushing Omega back in San Diego,” I say. “So maybe that’s helped get rid of the Klan. We didn’t see any sign of a gang that big when we were in Los Angeles.”
“Good. I hope they’re all gone.” Elle scratches Bravo behind the ears. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Senator. You’re famous. So is Commander Young and the Freedom Fighters.” She smiles. “A lot of people like you. They look up to you. You give them hope.”
Strong words from a young girl.
“Hope is important,” she continues, meeting my gaze.
Yes, I think. It is.
Elle nods, as if deliberately imprinting her observation in my mind.
“Uriah, I’m going into the next car,” I say.
Uriah rises and follows me. It’s odd to be protected constantly. I’m used to leading men into battle, not hiding behind them. Not that I’m actually hiding, but I feel as if I’ve been taken out of my element.
This is not what I’m used to.
I leave Elle and Bravo behind, stepping through the connecting doors. Walking on the train is similar to walking on a ship. It throws my balance off just enough so that I have to watch where I’m stepping.
Chris is standing in the center of the car, arms crossed over his broad chest. Andrew is there, as well, and so are Vera and Sophia.
“What’s up?” I ask, approaching them.
“We were just talking about Monterey,” Andrew replies. “When we get there, we’re going to try to keep you inside the Naval Academy as much as possible. It’s the safest location for you.”
“What about everyone else?” I say.
“We’ll be there with you,” Uriah replies, coming up behind me.
“And what about the other representatives?”
“They’ll be staying in the same place you are.”
I contemplate this.
“How far do we take the train?” I ask at last.
“San Jose,” Andrew answers. “And then we’ll take the convoy to Monterey.”
I nod. It sounds reasonable.
It should take just a couple of hours for the train to reach San Jose. The convoy is what will take a long time.
“Anything else I need to know before we get off the train?” I ask, looking directly at Chris. He doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead he looks out the window, a detached expression on his face.
“No,” he replies. “That’s everything.”
“Okay, then.” I turn and leave the car, heading back into the previous passenger level. Elle is still sitting there with Bravo. She looks curiously calm – happy, almost. If she’s anything like I was a few months ago, she’s just happy to be in the presence of the United States Military.
I step into the car just as the rumbling roar of an engine rips through the air. Even above the sound of the locomotive and the dramatic creak of the train cars moving on the track, I recognize the sound. It is the deafening rhythm of helicopter blades beating the air, slicing through the sky. I run to the window and crane my head to see through the small slits. I see the chopper – it is black with a single white O on the side of the door. Omega, of course.
“We’ve got company!” I yell.
But Chris already knows this. Everyone does.
Elle is on her feet, moving toward the window with Bravo. There is fear in her eyes. Her jaw goes taut. Her expression becomes stony.
“We’ve got this,” I tell her, finding strength in encouraging her.
She looks at me.
“Yes, ma’am,” she says.
The machine gun mounts on top of the roof and the plethora of soldiers should deter Omega from doing too much damage. But that is wishful thinking on my part, because I see the chopper move downward, directly parallel to the length of the train. The jarring, deafening roar of automatic weapons fire rains down on the roof of the train. It is extremely loud – like being trapped inside a tin can that’s being tossed down a hill. My ears ring and the train cars shake.
The National Guard units on top of the train return fire. The ground rumbles with each round. The chopper passes over our head with a climactic roar, pulling back into the air. Our deterrent fire drills into the side of their aircraft. I can see the bullet holes from here.
I grip the wall, worried. How many more of those choppers are
out there?
The firing continues until the chopper pulls back, veering off course and disappearing into the sky until it’s nothing but a black speck in the distance. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and look back at Elle. Her expression is still closed, but her grip on Bravo’s harness is vise-like.
“We’re okay,” I tell her. “We’ve got more firepower than one chopper does.”
Elle says nothing. She steps back from the window. I turn around and look at Chris. He shakes his head.
I know what he is thinking.
There is no such thing as safe. Not anymore.
We reach San Jose. It’s similar to the train station in Sacramento. The station is tall, made of brick, and fronted with outdoor passenger platforms. When the train slows down, screeching and rumbling to a stop in a cloud of steam, everyone gets ready. My security detail gathers around me. A human shield. Guns up and ready to go. I feel trapped inside the wall. I would rather be on the outside, protecting someone else.
We move through the open doors and step onto the loading platform. The air is crisp and clean. A line of Humvees and retrofitted armored vehicles are waiting, rumbling. I am brought to an armored Suburban in the center of the lineup. The door opens, I climb in, and Uriah and Chris follow. The rest of the security detail spreads out among the cars. I see Elle.
“You,” I say. “Come with me.”
She nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sophia and Vera are in another vehicle.
The Suburban is air-conditioned. It smells of worn leather, sweat and gunpowder. The driver is a National Guardsman wearing dark glasses. Chris sits up front, next to him. Uriah is in the seat beside me. I am sitting in the car in uniform, armored up, gun in my lap. A Senator I may be, but I am still a Commander, and this is still a battlefield.
I look at Elle. She is quiet and observational as she sits next to her dog. The door slams shut. I ghost a small smile in her direction.
“You doing okay, Elle?” I ask.
“Yes, Senator,” she says.
“Call me Commander,” I reply.
“Yes, Commander.” Elle’s lips curve upward and she looks out the window.
The convoy rolls out.
