by Summer Lane
State of Vengeance
Collapse Series #6
Summer Lane
Copyright 2015
All Rights Reserved
Summer Lane
WB Publishing
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except to quote in reviews, interviews or blogs, without the express permission of the author.
Cover art created by Steven J. Catizone
This novel is a work of fiction. Any parallel to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.
To everyone who gave me a chance to prove
them wrong.
Thanks for the motivation.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Prologue
“Come on, Harry,” Sophia said, smiling slightly. “Be serious.”
She sat with her back pressed against the wall, staring at the darkened room of sleeping prisoners. Moonbeams fell through the high windows, across the old eighth-grade laboratory counters. People were asleep on the floors, twisted and curled into odd angles, all weak attempts to ward off the biting cold.
“I am being serious.”
Harry’s teeth were a flash of white against the darkness. Even after being an enslaved laborer for several weeks, he still managed to look dashing. His dark, curly hair was beginning to grow out again, despite the initial haircut every prisoner had received upon arriving at the gates.
“Cassidy was right,” Sophia said and sighed. “We have to wait and look for an opportunity to escape…we can’t make an escape. Omega will kill us otherwise…Kameneva sure as hell will, too.”
“Kamaneva, Omega.” Harry waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. They’re just pawns in a much bigger game. If we can offer them something important…something that they cannot resist…” He tilted his head. “She spoke with me.”
“Who? Cassidy?”
“No. Kamaneva.” Harry leaned closer to Sophia. Her mocha skin was covered with goosebumps. She rubbed her arms in attempt to warm them. “She offered us a way out.”
Sophia raised her eyebrows.
“Like I said before,” she replied. “Be serious.”
“I’m not lying. She’s offering rewards to prisoners who have news of mutinies, escapes…everything.” Harry shrugged. “If you report rumors, gossip—anything—you can get on her good side. Avoid death a little longer.”
Sophia opened her mouth to speak, then shut it.
“It seems…wrong,” she whispered at last.
“It’s survival.”
“But everyone here is enslaved, Harry! If somebody is planning to escape – how could you possibly turn them in? Give them a chance to be free.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“Ah, you miss the point.”
“What point?”
“Survival of the fittest.” Harry leveled his gaze, staring at something across the room. “Only the most deadly predator can survive in a world like this.”
Sophia swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Omega is a predator,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” Harry answered. “Become a predator, or become the prey.”
Sophia shuddered.
Harry pulled a loose piece of thread from his shirt. He held it between his fingers, suddenly pulling it apart. The broken pieces drifted to the floor.
“No one will survive unchanged,” he whispered. “We are doomed, all of us.”
Chapter One
Monterey Bay, California – Pacific Northwest Alliance Stronghold
The ocean is like me. Calm and collected on the outside, but beneath the surface, churning and full of uncontained fury. I curl my fingers around the railing, standing on the back porch of a medical clinic on the edge of the city. The coastline is mired with thick, black smoke. Sirens scream in the distance. Two fighter jets twist over my head, ripping through the sound barrier, making my ears ring.
I take a deep breath. I stare at my hands.
Blood is crusted beneath my fingernails. Bruises line my jaw. I feel dry, numb. I lick my lips as the cold ocean breeze touches my cheeks. I feel like I should be crying, but I am too tired. I feel like I should be horrified, but I am too accustomed to war.
I glance over my shoulder. The medical clinic is a small, squat building, two stories high, on the edge of the town. I can clearly see the Monterey Peninsula. United States Navy vessels are bobbing in the harbor. Coast Guard cutters patrol the shoreline. The rumble and roar of military vehicles traveling up and down the roads is a steady, rhythmic sound that I am used to.
But it does not calm the storm within me.
“Cassidy.”
I turn sharply, meeting Chris’s stern, electric green eyes. He is worn down. His black clothes are torn in places. His hair is hanging in strands to his shoulders. His AR-15 is strapped across his back. Ruggedly handsome, but tired.
“Where’s Harry?” I ask curtly.
“In the interrogation chamber.” He walks to the railing, placing his fists on the wood. “What do you see out there, Cassie?”
“A whole lot of water,” I reply.
“And what else?”
I pause before answering.
“Omega,” I say at last. “They’re coming back.”
*
The world is a battleground. One year ago, an electromagnetic pulse destroyed the technological infrastructure of the United States, taking down all traces of modern civilization. This attack – staged by a mysterious shadow enemy called Omega – tore apart the fabric of society. Omega invaded. A million-man foot army pushed into the West Coast. The United States military struggled. Millions of people died.
I once lived in Los Angeles. I once was an average, everyday girl.
Now I am a Commander and a senator in the post-apocalyptic warzone of California, fighting for the preservation of life and hope in this state. Omega, the shadow army arisen from the chaos, is my enemy. My allies lay in the militias, in groups like the Freedom Fighters and the Mountain Rangers. My love lies with Commander Chris Young and my friends: Uriah, Andrew and so many others.
But I have been betrayed.
Betrayed by my best friend, Sophia Rodriguez, and now she is dead.
The cost of war is high. Standing firm for what you believe in is hard.
In my case, standing up for my beliefs has caused me nothing but suffering.
I am not alone. Chris – the most respected leader in the militias – is ever loyal and capable. I love him more than anything, and it is his love that has kept me alive this long. My father, a militia commander as well, went MIA when Omega bombed the Sacramento Capitol Building a few weeks ago. I must assume that he is dead. I have seen friends die. I have seen children die.
I have seen Omega’s ruthless brutality and cold menace firsthand.
I have suffered, but I am a fighter.
I have lost, but I will win in the end.
This is just the beginning of the next chapter.
*
My hands are shaking. I am furious.
I storm down the hallway, bypassing guards and officers and
wounded soldiers. It smells like blood here; the screams of soldiers who have been burned or mutilated in battle echo off the walls, searing my ears.
I shove the metal doors at the end of the hall open. They hit the wall with a bang and I surge forward. Uriah True and Devin May are standing near a one-way window in a dark room. They whip around when I walk in.
“Cassidy?” Uriah asks. He reads me instantly. “What’s wrong?”
I look through the window. Harry is sitting in a metal chair in the center of the empty interrogation chamber. He is staring at the wall.
“Have you talked to him yet?” I ask, my voice tight.
“No, we’re going to, but…” Uriah trails off. “Cassidy, don’t—”
I shove past him and round the corner. I open the door to the interrogation chamber. It opens out. I step inside, shut it behind me, and I set my deathly glare on Harry.
“Ah, Cassidy,” he says. “How refreshing to see your smiling face.”
I cross the room, grab his collar, and slam my knee under his chin, sending him careening off the chair, onto the floor. He hits the ground hard. Blood dribbles down the sides of his mouth. I grab the metal chair, spin it backward and shove it under the handle of the door, effectively locking us in.
I can hear Uriah banging on the door from the other side.
I ignore him.
All I see is red.
I kick Harry again. He rolls onto his back, bringing his arms up to block me. I force his hands away and grab the fabric of his shirt.
“Cassidy, stop!” Uriah yells.
I can hear him and Devin forcing the door open. Harry just looks at me, his baleful, beautiful blue eyes boring straight into mine. Angry, hurt tears slide down my face. I pull him upright crouch close to his face.
“She’s dead because of you,” I say.
Harry doesn’t answer.
“I hate you,” I tell him. “I will always hate you.”
To my shock, his face displays a profound look of sadness. He suddenly stops struggling against me and he says, “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Cassie.”
I shove him forward and slam his head against the ground.
He is out cold.
“Don’t call me Cassie,” I mutter.
The door to the interrogation room bursts open and Devin and Uriah rush in. They look at Harry, then at me.
“Is he dead?” Uriah asks, breathing hard.
I shake my head.
Devin kneels down and checks Harry’s pulse.
“He’s fine.” He looks at me. “What the hell is wrong with you? You almost killed a valuable prisoner of war.”
I press my lips firmly together.
“This is about Sophia,” Uriah says, never taking his gaze off me. “I know it hurts, Cassidy.”
I wipe the hot, salty tears from my cheeks, embarrassed.
“Cassidy, don’t go—”
I turn on my heel and walk out the door.
I am not ashamed that I have shed tears.
I am not ashamed that I almost killed Harry.
I am ashamed because I didn’t.
*
I sit on a chair in the middle of an empty, dark room. I stare at the one-way window of the interrogation chamber. Harry is not there – he is in a cell somewhere. I keep my arms crossed, my expression taut. There is so much anger inside me.
I have been angry before, but this is different.
This is raging, physical. I can feel the fury pulsing through my veins and pounding in my ears. It is consuming, and I know that if I am not careful, it will eat me alive.
At this point, I’d almost welcome it.
The door to the room opens. A narrow slit of light slips across the darkness and then disappears as it closes again. I don’t even have to look up to know that it is Chris. No one walks as softly as him, and no one exudes such a powerful presence.
“Cassidy, what are you doing?” he asks, his voice soft.
I shrug.
“I know you hate him,” he continues. “But he’s just one man.”
I don’t remove my gaze from the glass.
“Cassidy.” Chris touches my shoulder. I look up. His handsome face is bathed in shadows. “What happened to Sophia wasn’t your fault. It was her own choice.”
I slide my hands down to my knees.
“I know,” I say. “I just…feel empty.”
“No.” Chris gets down on one knee, eye level with me. “You feel angry. Because someone you loved is dead. I know that feeling, Cassidy. It can destroy you. Don’t let it hurt you – use it against itself. Use it against Omega.”
I rest my hand on his cheek, smiling sadly.
“People keep dying,” I whisper. “My dad’s MIA, and now Sophia is dead.” I shake my head. “It’s going to get worse and worse.”
“This is war,” Chris replies. “And you’re right: it only gets worse.” He takes my hand, kisses it, and holds it against his chest. “But then it gets better, in the end.”
“If we’re still alive,” I sigh.
“We will be.”
“There’s no guarantee.”
“Life is unpredictable, but I have no intention of dying, and let’s face it: you’re too stubborn to get killed.” He grins. “And I love you for it.”
Despite myself, I laugh a little.
“So. Are you going to start charging by the hour or should I just tip you?” I ask.
“I survive on tips,” he replies, kissing me. It’s a warm kiss. A kiss of kindness and comfort. “You can tip me as much as you want.”
I stand up, slowly.
“I just keep thinking about the way that she looked when I left her up there on the roof,” I say. “She looked so broken. I didn’t know that girl.”
“She was broken,” Chris answers, draping his strong arm around my shoulders. “But you’re stronger than that. Omega is afraid of you – of us. Sophia thought she’d found an escape. The truth is, there isn’t one. We’re all stuck in this situation. You just have to pick the right side. That’s all that matters.”
I tilt my head up, kissing the bottom of Chris’s chin.
“You’re too optimistic sometimes,” I mutter.
“I try,” he shrugs.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He cups my cheek and brushes his lips across mine. “It already has.”
I ask, “What are we going to do with Harry?”
Chris thinks about this.
“After we’ve squeezed every bit of information out of him,” he replies, “we’ll try him according to the law and execute him, just like we would anyone else.”
I nod.
“His death won’t bring Sophia back to life,” Chris warns. “Remember that. Don’t get hooked on revenge, Cassidy. It’s not healthy.”
I say nothing.
The door to the chamber opens, spilling light everywhere. Uriah squints in the darkness. “Ah, sorry to interrupt,” he says, looking slightly embarrassed. “But the militia leaders are meeting. There are reports that Omega is regrouping.”
My heart sinks.
“Great,” I say. “We don’t even get twenty-four hours of peace.”
“Well, this is a warzone,” Uriah answers.
Chris takes my hand and we enter the hallway together.
I am struck by the feeling that something is about to happen. What that something is, I have no idea. But the feeling is there. I have had premonitions before. I’m not superstitious, but my instincts have never been wrong.
I look at Chris.
“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Something’s coming,” I say. “I can feel it.”
Uriah opens the front door. We step into the coolness of evening.
“I know,” he answers. “I can feel it, too.”
Chapter Two
“They’ll be back,” I say.
My voice is firm. I do not hesitate.
I am standing in a room full of militia com
manders and lieutenants. Among them are Chris Young, Uriah True, Vera Wright, Anita Vega and Devin May. In the back of the room, in the corner, a small girl with midnight-black hair is standing beside a beautiful German Shepherd. It is Elle Costas and her bomb dog, Bravo.
“Of course they’ll be back,” Vera replies. The hollows of her cheekbones are dark. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her blond hair is matted. “They’ve got thousands – if not millions – of more troops to send. This is a temporary victory.”
“We don’t have enough troops,” Devin says. His white-blond hair is shaved down to the scalp. He is tall and imposing. A true Navy SEAL, just like Chris. “We have a few thousand right now, but that’s it. Even the Pacific Northwest Alliance can’t keep Omega out forever.”
“So we need more troops?” Anita interjects. “We’re already massing all of our soldiers. Do you know how many people we lost last night? How many soldiers I lost?”
I swallow a lump in my throat. I fold my arms across my chest to hide my trembling hands. It has been too long since I have eaten or rested, and my exhaustion is beginning to show.
“Too many,” Chris replies, his voice calm and steady. When he speaks, people stop and listen. They always have, they always will. “We lost many good men and women last night. Securing Monterey came at a high price, one that the militias paid in blood.”
“Once again, the militias have saved the day,” Vera snorts. “Our partnership with the Pacific Northwest Alliance didn’t do a damn thing.”
“It did something,” I reply. “It brought in the Navy and the Air Force.”
“They were too late!”
“But they came.”
“There’s not enough of them to keep Omega from coming back. They’re regrouping. We’re screwed.”
I look at Chris. He looks at me.
I say, “We’re doing the best we can with what we have.”
“That sounds like something a teacher would tell a classroom,” Anita retorts, flipping her long, glossy black hair over her shoulder. She is the Commander of the Mexican militia group Coyotes, and while she is an incredibly adept fighter, she has a hot temper…a lot like me.
