by Summer Lane
“I’m not a politician, Rivera,” I snap. “Get to the point.”
“There’s an Omega insurgency camp here in the Sierra Nevada Mountains,” he tells me. “They’ve been training Omega mercenaries and soldiers for years – long before the EMP and the invasion. I’d like you to take them out.”
“A camp?” I say. “How many soldiers are we talking about?”
“Several hundred,” Rivera replies. “Their numbers have increased. They’re making no effort to hide their presence since the invasion. I want them dead – all of them. Every last damn one.”
There is a glint in his eyes, the fire of a soldier.
And that is the redeeming quality of this stubborn, pig-headed man.
“I want your word,” I say.
“You’ve got it.”
“I’m going to need a team.”
“I’ll give you one.”
“And weapons. Vehicles. Everything.”
“Commander, you’ll get everything you want,” Colonel Rivera says, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ll give you all the toys, you wipe out the insurgency camp for us, and you can bring back as many troops as you need.”
I shake my head.
I should have known there would be a catch.
“Fine,” I say. “When do we start?”
Arlene stands up.
“Right away,” she smiles.
Her smile is a little too cheerful.
*
The Officers Quarters’ are where I am staying. I have a small, private room. In an underground bunker like this, privacy is a luxury. The room is narrow, with a cot, vent, shower and toilet. There are no windows, which reminds me that I am buried alive, hundreds of feet into a rocky mountain.
I try to push the thought away.
I sit down on the edge of the cot – hard as a rock – and mess with my knife. I remember the day I received it well. I remember how happy Jeff was. So proud.
Someone knocks on my door.
I stand up, opening it. It’s Arlene. She isn’t smiling now.
“I need to talk to you,” she says. And then, in a whisper, she adds, “Inside.”
I give her some space and she sweeps into the room. I close and lock the door. “What’s going on?” I ask.
She holds a finger to her lips and checks the room – under the mattress, beneath the toilet. Then she says, “Sorry. I had to check for bugs.”
“You think someone’s spying on us?” I reply.
“I think that what I’m about to tell you is very secret, and I don’t want the information falling into the wrong hands.” She sits on my bed, sighing. “Cassidy, I trust you. I don’t know you very well, but my husband thinks the world of you, and there must be a reason for that.”
“Manny’s a good man.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall. “What’s this all about?”
“The Insurgency Camp,” Arlene says. “We’ve known about it for years. It’s existed right under our noses for as long as I can remember, growing and growing. And nobody ever did anything to stop it.”
“Why not?” I demand.
“I don’t know. That’s what bothers me. The decision was never up to me, and it’s not really up to Rivera, either.” She shrugs. “The thing is, Cassidy, Unite has been controlling Sky City since its inception, and they’ve been painfully neutral for years. Their focus has always been on survival, not defense.”
I close my eyes.
That explains a lot.
Or at least it explains why Sky City has never offered its troops to the militias yet. If their main concern is staying alive, then they might as well be dead to me. They’re useless.
“Do you think Rivera is telling the truth?” I ask. “Will he really give me the troops I need if I take out the insurgency camp?”
“I think he will.” She pauses. “Rivera is many things, Cassidy, but he is not a liar. He just does what he thinks is best.”
“That’s a gross understatement.”
“Yes. I also wanted to warn you about something.”
She looks uncertain, almost afraid. Her voice becomes soft.
“Unite is good,” she says. “Their very existence is, in the end, a positive thing. But it’s more than meets the eye. And that’s all I can say right now. Just…keep that in mind, all right?”
My heartbeat quickens a little.
“You’re saying I shouldn’t trust Unite?”
“I’m saying you should be careful, that’s all.” She stands up suddenly, flushing. “I’ve said too much. You know where my loyalties are, Cassidy. Just remember what I said.”
“You didn’t say much,” I remark.
“It’s enough. You’ll thank me later.” She touches my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. We all appreciate it.”
She whisks out of the room, disappearing into the hall. I lock the door behind her and puzzle over her words. Obviously she was trying to warn me, but the total secrecy in which Unite and Sky City has operated since its inception is making it impossible for her to share everything.
I remember the look on her face when she searched the room for bugs.
It was more than fear. Almost…paranoia.
I shake myself.
I open the door and walk into the hall. I follow the curve of the massive, underground rotunda, occasionally passing other officers. They give me a once-over and keep walking. I guess I’m the new meat around here – I don’t mind. I might be new to these people, but I’m not new to this situation.
I’ve probably got a better grasp than they do.
I’m the one who’s actually been out there.
These people have been hiding in a hole in the ground.
“Cassidy?”
I turn around. Elle jogs up to me. Bravo is not with her.
“Where’s Bravo?” I ask.
“He’s resting in our room.” She tucks a piece of short, black hair behind her ear. “So when are we going to do it?”
“Do what?”
I keep walking, and she keeps pace.
“Take out the Omega insurgency training camp.”
“As soon as Rivera gives me a team and weapons,” I tell her.
“I want to come.”
I smile.
“That’s very nice of you, but I can’t allow that.”
“Why not? I’m a good soldier. I don’t follow you around with a bomb dog all day long for nothing, you know.” She shakes her head. “I can help you.”
“I know you can.” I stop, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and look into her blue eyes. “But it’s too dangerous. And I’m sure Manny and Arlene would tell you the same thing.”
She rolls her eyes.
We keep walking until we reach the Chow Hall. It’s a large room with rows and rows of plastic tables, similar to many other dining halls I’ve seen before. This one is crowded with people. It is a wall of noise, a rush of jumbled dialogue and laughter. And then there is the smell: meat and garlic.
“Wow, I’m hungry,” I say. “How about you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We walk into the Chow Hall, grab a plate, and get in line.
“I just think that you should let me come,” Elle says again.
“Elle, have you ever had any combat experience besides using Bravo?” I ask. “Do you know what it’s like to be on the front lines of a fight? It’s scary.”
“I know,” she insists. “You have no idea what I’ve had to do to survive.”
I hold out my plate for a spoonful of roast beef.
“Have you ever killed a man?” I ask.
She closes her mouth. We go through the line, find a seat, and pick up our forks. She looks at me and says at last, “Yes.”
“Who?”
She sighs.
“The first time I killed someone, it was in self defense,” she replies. “In Los Angeles. He was a member of a gang called the Klan, a vigilante anarchist group. He was going to kill me. I shot him. After that, I killed
again.” She looks straight at me. “I’ve lost count, Commander.”
I take a deep breath, jarred by the realization that this young girl has so much blood on her hands. It’s a stark reminder of what the world has become.
“That scar on your cheek,” I say. “Where’d you get it?”
“Fell down a hill,” she grins. “Cut it open.”
“Ouch.”
“Could have been worse, believe me.”
I take a few more bites, savoring the rich, hearty flavor.
“What happened to your family?” I ask at last.
She stares at the floor.
“Don’t know,” she replies. “My dad…he used to be in retail. He had an organic grocery store in Los Angeles. Then he became a celebrity lawyer. Don’t know how he made that transition, but he did. My mom was an actress.”
“Anyone famous?” I smile.
“No. Never got the chance.” She shrugs. “My brother was a great violinist, but he got into drugs and he was in jail when the EMP went down. They’re all dead, probably.”
“I’m sorry, Elle,” I tell her. And I mean it.
“I’ve got Aunt and Uncle.”
“Arlene and Manny are good people. You’re lucky.”
She nods.
“How did you end up joining the militias?” I ask. “How’d you get separated from your folks?”
“It’s a long story,” she says.
“I’ve got time.”
“Well…”
She fixes her blue eyes on the far side of the room, suddenly tensing up. I follow her gaze. There is a commotion at the entrance of the Chow Hall. Soldiers are milling around in a small group, and in the middle of the crowd, I see Uriah pushing his way through.
I stand up, alarmed.
He runs toward us.
“Cassidy,” he says. “Come quick.”
“What’s happening?”
He catches his breath. I notice that he is sweating, and that there is a spray of blood on his right cheek. “Come on,” he urges.
I follow him, pushing through the crowd.
“Uriah!” I say. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t reply. We run through the hall. Everyone has stopped just outside of the Officers’ Quarters. There are red lights flashing near the ceiling, and somewhere in the distance, a siren screams through the upper chambers of the bunker.
What I see next stops me.
Manny is kneeling on the floor. Arlene is in his arms, limp. Tears stream down his face. Elle rushes forward, sinking to the floor, touching Arlene’s throat. She covers her mouth, crying out. Arlene’s face is pale and her body is still.
I feel sick. I take a step backward.
Just a few feet away from Arlene, a dead body is on the floor. His arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, and I can tell that it has been broken. His head is tilted sideways, too. His eyes are wide open and glassy.
His neck has been snapped.
I gasp.
Lieutenant Alan White.
Chapter Seven
Killing has become too easy for me.
I lie prone in the grass. We have just left Sector 20, on our second mission into the surrounding urban areas in the Central Valley. Our job is to remove Omega threats. I have been given a new uniform by the National Guard. I am not used to working with the military, but I am sure that I will adjust.
I see an Omega patrol in the distance, past the grass, in a parking lot.
It is a small one. Three trucks and a Humvee parked next to an old propane tank. The troops are milling around in their dark uniforms, talking and laughing. They look relaxed. Too relaxed. They should know that this area is crawling with militia activity – they should not be this careless.
Behind me, there is an earsplitting crack. I try to turn my head, but I’m flattened against the ground. A flash of light and a wave of heat hits my body.
What was that?
After the shockwave rolls over me, I force myself up and turn around. Two hundred yards off, in a ditch, there is a ring of fire. A pillar of thick, dark smoke rises into the air.
I don’t dare move. I haven’t received any orders on my radio.
I don’t want to be the one to give our snipers’ positions away.
I tilt my head and look through the scope of my rifle again. The Omega troops that I have been watching are inside their vehicles, now, speeding away. I curse under my breath. My radio crackles, but I cannot hear what the command is. My ears are still ringing from the explosion in the ditch.
I make an executive decision.
I squeeze the trigger of my rifle and put an armor-piercing bullet through the center of the propane tank. The metal container detonates in a brilliant ball of orange flames and black smoke. The heat from the explosion burns my skin. I bury my face in the crook of my elbow to protect my eyes from injury as shrapnel spins through the air.
I look up at last. The small patrol vehicles have been scattered across the pavement. The Humvee is on fire and the trucks are sideways. I watch carefully, looking for any signs of movement.
Sweat rolls down my forehead, dripping into my eyes.
I wipe it away and stare through my optics. After several long minutes, there is a flicker. A small flash. The car door on one of the overturned trucks is kicked open and an Omega trooper crawls out. His face and chest are bloody. The right side of his cheek is burned. He pulls himself forward on his hands, dragging his body across the asphalt.
My sights are clearly set on the center of his forehead.
My finger hovers over the trigger.
Something stops me. In my mind, I see an innocent, peaceful girl covering her eyes during a violent movie. The girl is me. I shake myself and blink the memory away.
I take the shot. The trooper’s head jerks backward and his body hits the ground at a weird angle, halfway twisted toward the sky. Dead. I rest my shoulder against my rifle and stand. I turn away from the wreckage of the patrol and trot to the ditch, where the initial explosion came from earlier.
I peer over the edge. Three of our men are dead, literally blown to pieces. Blood and gore drip down the side of the ditch closest to me. I take a step backward and fight the urge to vomit.
“Landmines.”
Alexander Ramos kneels on the other side of the ditch. He rests his powerful forearm on his knee. “Poor bastards,” he mutters.
My radio crackles.
“Yankee One, this is Alpha One.”
“Copy, Alpha One,” I reply. “Go ahead.”
“Nice shot. You made the surprise party a success.”
Although hearing Chris’s voice makes me smile, a deep, overwhelming sense of sadness overcomes me. I look at the dead men in the ditch – our men. Human beings, torn apart and scattered in the dirt.
I turn away.
“Yankee One, you still with me?” Chris says over the radio.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think so.”
*
The casualty care center in Sky City is a wide, spacious floor with gurneys and rollaway room dividers. There are not many patients here. Apparently Sky City is a healthy place.
Arlene is lying on her back in a gurney, a tube down her throat, pumping oxygen into her chest. Her skin is horribly white, tinged with purple. Manny sits on a chair near her, holding her hand, staring at her still, lifeless form.
Elle stands at the foot of the bed, silent.
“There was a struggle,” Vera tells me. “She and Alan fought for a few seconds – he tried to choke her. He almost succeeded.”
We are at the end of the hall. It’s all white light and antiseptic in here as medical aides scurry around, trying to quell the surge of panic inside the bunker.
Lieutenant Alan White’s dead body is on a gurney near the door. The deep purple bruises around his neck tell me that he was choked to death.
“I saw it happen,” Vera goes on, flicking her ponytail behind her shoulder. “Arlene was walking around the corner, toward her room in the Officer
s’ Quarters. He was just walking, Cassidy. Walking. And then he was going for her head, probably trying to snap her neck.”
I inhale.
“Who killed Alan?” I ask.
“I did.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You choked him out like that?” I say.
“Uriah helped.” She shrugs. “I did what I had to do.”
I nod. “I’m glad you did.”
I look at Alan. “Why would he do this?”
“He’s another Omega hack. He has to be.”
“You don’t think it’s just a case of one man snapping under the pressure of the apocalypse?”
Vera gives me a look.
We both know that’s not true.
I walk over to Alan and pull the sheet away from his chest. He’s dressed in standard military garb. I turn away from his dead body.
I have never seen Manny look so forlorn before. He holds her hand tightly, staring at her pale face.
It’s a miracle that she’s still alive.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” I whisper, placing my hand on Manny’s shoulder.
He says nothing. Elle stands behind him with her dog, silent. Her face looks like it’s made of stone. She betrays nothing.
“I want to know why the hell Alan White would try to kill Arlene in the middle of a secure facility,” Uriah mutters. “How did he think he would get away with that?”
No one answers. Because nobody knows.
At that moment, Colonel Rivera enters the medical chamber. He is not smoking a cigar. In fact, he looks drawn – worried. He stops at the foot of Arlene’s bed. “I’m sorry this happened,” he says after a long silence.
I meet his gaze. While I do not like Rivera, I see sincerity in his eyes.
He seems genuinely sorry to see Arlene in this state.
“Why would Lieutenant White do this?” Vera says.
“Because he’s an Omega spy,” Uriah replies. “Just like Sophia was.”
I wince, hearing Sophia’s name.
Her death and betrayal is still a fresh wound.
“Sophia Rodriguez?” Rivera asks.
I nod to confirm.
He shakes his head.
“I’m…sorry to hear that, too,” he says.
I cross my arms over my chest, wondering why he’s being so apologetic. And then I realize that Arlene was probably a good friend of his, and seeing her struggling for her life on a hospital bed is not just emotional for us – but for him, too. Proving that, despite all evidence to the contrary, Colonel Rivera might have a heart after all.
