by Summer Lane
Strangely enough, I’m not afraid. I’m calm.
Eerily calm.
By the time we hit the steel door, I am expecting another barrage of gunfire. But it never comes. The door is twisted and melted, flames lick around the ground, smoldering.
As we enter the bunker itself, I feel the familiar rush of cold, recycled air. The bright, white lights are flickering. Dead Sky City troopers are everywhere. Blood is smeared across the walls.
“These soldiers didn’t die because of this blast,” Chris says, looking at me, stricken. “They’ve been shot.”
The ground is thick with dead bodies. It smells like blood. I keep my rifle tight, coming to the curve in the first level. The elevator in the center of the rotunda is jammed open, blocked by a dead man.
“What happened here?” Vera breathes.
“My guess,” Alexander replies, “is that after you guys escaped, they started executing the Sky City troopers who were genuinely working for Unite. Made this place totally Omega.”
I shudder.
How horrifying, to die in a metal box, trapped under the ground – murdered by the people who you thought were your friends.
“Arlene, is there a way to get to the thirteenth level without taking the elevator?” I ask.
“Yes,” her voice crackles. “There’s a staircase. Behind the barracks. Follow the rotunda and you’ll see it.”
We do. We walk, picking our way through dead bodies, the eerie silence of the bunker suffocating us like a blanket. Chris opens a heavy metal door. A huge staircase winds downward.
“Team formation,” Chris says. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Just because everybody up here is dead doesn’t mean everybody down there is.”
He nods at me.
I press my lips together, and we slip down the staircase, fingers hovering over the triggers of our guns. We descend past the twelfth level, finally coming to a stop on level thirteen. Chris throws open the door.
It’s abandoned.
Empty. There are no bodies. No signs of life. The steady thrum of the artificial air ventilation units feed the melancholy atmosphere. I feel chilled to the bone. This isn’t right. Something is very wrong with this picture.
I can feel it.
“I don’t like this,” Chris says, echoing my thoughts.
“That’s the cellblock,” I reply, pointing to the left. “The Communications Center is to the left.”
Harry – who has remained silent this whole time – laughs.
“Go ahead, open it up,” he says. “You’ll love what you find.”
“He’s served his purpose, right?” Andrew asks. “Can we kill him yet?”
Chris raises an eyebrow.
“Not yet,” he tells him. “Soon, but not yet.”
Harry frowns.
We walk through the rotunda, our footsteps echoing against the walls. The Communications Center is identified by a single metal door with two simple letters engraved on them: CC.
We don’t have any trouble getting it open. Compared to the rest of the entrances that we’ve blown to pieces, this is a piece of cake. Chris is the first to enter the room. I’m next, followed by Vera, Uriah and Alexander. At least a dozen operatives stay in the hallway, covering us from behind.
The Communications Center is huge. Two platform levels look across at a wide room filled with desks and glistening computer screens. The screens are glowing. I stare, mesmerized. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a computer.
In the back of the room, about a dozen Sky City soldiers are standing in a neat row, facing us. They have their weapons raised, ready to fire. I immediately hit the floor and duck behind a desk. Shots rip through the wood, riddling the wall with holes. I bring my rifle up to my shoulder and take out two of them. There’s a wall of fire coming from them, though, and despite my best efforts, a couple of the troopers make it closer.
Chris sends a spray of bullets down low, razing across their legs. They fall to the ground, screaming, and the rest of our team picks up the slack. The troopers fall, one by one, dead. When the slaughter is over, I pull myself together and stand up, staring at the mass of dead bodies.
“They were waiting for us,” Vera says, pale. “That was a suicide attack. They weren’t even trying to survive.”
“Maybe they were the last of the Omega troops,” Uriah suggests, kneeling down, examining a dead woman on the ground. “They knew we were going to kill them either way.”
I look at Harry. He stands in the back of the room, a horrified expression on his face. Apparently, he is just as surprised as we are.
“What do you know about this, Harry?” I demand.
“Nothing,” he replies. “This is madness.”
There is fear in his voice, and for the first time since his betrayal of the Freedom Fighters so long ago – I believe him.
Bam.
Alexander looks at Chris, then at me. He seems confused, dropping to his knees, a trickle of blood trailing from the side of his mouth. It happens in seconds, but the shock draws everything out – playing before my eyes in slow motion.
To the side of the room, in the corner, more shots are fired. Three of our operatives hit the ground, dead. I can’t see the attacker. I shoot back blindly. The shots stop, but I don’t see a dead body. I see Alexander keel forward onto the floor, gasping for breath.
And then, all I see is red.
I rise from the floor and sprint forward, toward the corner of the room. I see a flicker of dark movement, disappearing around the corner. I follow. The room here has a long, narrow hallway, lined with office doors. The lights are dim. The man fleeing from me is wearing basic combat fatigues, but aside from that, I don’t recognize him.
He barges into the last door on the left. I follow. It’s a huge office with another door behind the sterile desk and computer. He pushes through the door. I pursue, using my rage to fuel my muscles. The next room looks like the entrance to an emergency elevator.
Funny. Arlene never mentioned it.
Maybe she never knew.
The man realizes that he is cornered. I shoot him in the shoulder and he hits the wall. We roll onto the ground, a tangle of arms and legs. I jam my elbow into his cheek. I feel something crack. He screams. I bring my rifle around and hold the barrel against his throat, pinning him to the floor.
Connor.
I stare at him. Blood gushes out of his nose and mouth, dripping onto my hands, hot and sticky. His blue eyes dilate. He recognizes me. And all I see when I look at him is his cruel, twisted sneer as he held me under the water, torturing me for hours in the interrogation chamber.
Something snaps inside me.
I see everything that has happened to me since the EMP. In the blink of an eye, it all unfolds in my mind - every hurt, every horror, every loss. I reach around to the back of my belt, pull out my handgun, and hold the steel muzzle against Connor’s forehead.
He spits up blood.
“You’re going to kill me?” he asks.
“You just shot my friend,” I reply.
“I am a soldier. Killing is my business.”
“Guess what?” I answer. I squeeze the trigger. The shot rings through the small chamber, and Connor’s body goes still. A bullet hole sits in the center of his skull. Blood drips from the side of the wound. His eyes stare at the ceiling, glassy and unseeing.
“It’s my business too,” I say, standing up.
I holster the handgun and sling the rifle over my back. Connor’s blood slicks my hands and droplets run down my cheek. I don’t feel satisfied. I don’t feel proud.
I just am.
When I turn around, Chris is standing in the doorway. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his own handgun secured in the palm of his hand. I lock eyes with him.
He says nothing. I say nothing.
Tears burn like acid in the back of my throat. I bite my lip and walk forward. Chris steps aside. He does not offer comfort to me. Not a touch, not a kiss. Not even a smile.
I see something in
his eyes that I have never seen before:
Fear.
We return to the Communications Center room in silence. Alexander is lying on his back, his eyes closed. His huge, muscled body is still, He is still breathing, but he is not conscious. Despite my best efforts, a tear slides down my cheek. I kneel next to him.
Don’t die. Don’t give up.
Every computer screen in the office suddenly glows white.
I look up, alarmed. Chris grips his gun. Uriah tenses.
The screens are synchronized in perfect unison. The blinding white of the screens fades, pulling back to a huge, white O. The screen becomes a picture – at first it is pixilated, and then it clears up.
It is a woman. A beautiful woman with milky white skin, long, black hair, and a dark red shirt. She is striking – intimidating. She sits in front of a white wall.
“Greetings,” she says. “I trust that by now you have discovered that Sky City is no longer a threat to you. You have done an excellent job of destroying it, Commander Hart. I commend you for that.”
I slowly stand, staring at the screens.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
“I’m so glad you asked,” she replies, a calculated smile on her lips. “But first, let’s talk about you. Shortly after you and your team cleverly escaped, Commander, the base was in an uproar. Those who were loyal to Unite clashed with those who were loyal to Omega. I’m afraid you exposed our corruption.” She smiles again – and this time, it is predatory. Dangerous. “And so, everyone here is dead. I’m assuming you took care of the rest of the remaining soldiers?”
I say nothing. I look at Chris.
He doesn’t return the gaze. He is staring at the screen, too.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she purrs. “Ah, do I see General Lydell among you?” She pauses. “Very clever of you, using his handprint.” She leans forward. “Unfortunately, you’re all going to die, anyway.”
“Who are you?” Chris demands.
My heart races. My mind spins.
This must be a trap. Someone is stalling us.
“My name is Veronica,” she says simply. “Veronica Klaus. I am the International Chancellor for the organization that you have come to know as Omega.”
My eyes widen.
A leader? An actual, living, breathing, leader?
“We go by many names, of course,” Veronica continues. “But Omega is my favorite. Which is why we’ve been utilizing it so often lately. It’s terribly catchy, don’t you think?”
“How did you know we were here?” I ask. “Where are you?”
“You’re so innocent,” she laughs. “Like children.” She tilts her head. “But maybe not all of you. You, Commander Hart, are a killer. I could use a woman like you in my ranks.”
“I’d rather die,” I hiss.
“Don’t worry, darling,” she replies, “You will.”
I look around the room, searching for a trap.
“Don’t worry, the base is empty,” Veronica says, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve killed every last one of my men.” She narrows her eyes. “You’ll pay for that.”
There is a long, heavy silence.
The satellite connection flickers, pixelating her image once more before clearing again. “You will never survive what’s coming next,” she warns.
“Where are you?” I ask again. “In the United States? Out of the country?”
“Does it matter? Darling, I’m coming to you. This war is almost over.”
I wipe the blood off my hands, onto my pants.
“How do you know who I am?”
“I know about all of you,” she replies. “Commander Chris Young. I must say, it’s nice to talk with you again.”
I stare at Chris, dumbstruck.
“Again?” I hiss.
He remains stoic, unflinching.
“And Vera Wright – your mother was Angela,” Veronica goes on. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” She grins. “And Cassidy – how sad about your father. Missing in action, right?”
“Shut up,” I warn.
“Or what?” she asks. “You’ll reach through the screen and choke me? Please. Act like the soldier you are, Commander. Never make an empty threat.”
Fear creeps into my heart. How does this woman know so much about us?
Where is she calling from? How did she know we were standing in this room?
Satellites, I think, chilled. Arlene said it would take ten minutes for them to connect to the satellites after the radio tower went down…
“I offer you a choice,” she goes on. “All of you. The New Order will be established, and there is nothing you can do about it. So, you can fight valiantly and die – which I respect, by the way – or you can ally with me. Us. All of this fighting and death and gritty, dirty warfare. Day-to-day survival. It can end.”
“Never,” Chris says, and his voice is commanding.
“Think about it,” Veronica says, sighing, ignoring him. “Give me an answer. I’ll be in touch.” She looks up, then checks a watch on her left wrist. “Well, now. It’s time for me to say goodbye. Next time we meet, you will either join us, or I’ll kill you all.”
“But—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“The end of this war has begun,” she says. “Look outside. Everything has changed.”
The screen goes black.
We stand there, looking at the black screen, shocked.
Nothing about this makes sense.
I look at Chris. He betrays nothing.
How does he know this woman? Or is she playing games with my mind?
Look outside. Everything has changed.
A dark, cold fist closes around my chest. I feel sick, as if something horrible has happened. I turn and run into the hall, past the elevator, into the stairwell. Chris is right behind me. We climb the stairs, reaching the first level. The first rays of daylight are breaking through the entrance to Sky City. We share a sideways glance.
Slowly, we begin walking up the passage. Air that is oddly warm touches my cheeks as we near the exit – a stark contrast from the freezing temperatures that were here. I step outside. The sky is gray, the clouds are thick. The sun is obscured, filtered through a dark screen.
I hold my hand out. The black, crusted flakes of dead souls stick to my fingers. It smells of smoke and death and horror. Chris looks stricken. Soon my hand is covered in black ash, and I wipe it off on my pants. It does little good, as it is coating my hair and skin.
I step back into the cover of the bunker passage overhang.
In the distance, the cloud cover is as black as night. It is a gray, colorless landscape. The swirling clouds around Sky City have been pushed away in a blast of sudden hot air. It stings my face and burns my skin.
Chris joins me and we look over the desolation together.
I swear I can hear the screams of millions of the dead.
Everything has changed.
Omega has gone nuclear.
Epilogue
When the end came, I survived. I was naïve. I did stupid things.
And then I learned to fight. I became a soldier, and I put the stupid behind me. I became smart. I moved quick. I played to my strengths and learned to crush my weaknesses. Because in war, weakness can get you killed.
I don’t know what I am anymore. I am not weak. I am not superhuman, either. I am just a girl, fighting for survival in a world that has gone insane. So many people have died. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss the life I used to live – one of relative peace and relaxation.
I don’t fear death anymore. I used to be afraid to close my eyes and never wake up again. Now, I would almost welcome the rest. I would never have to look over my shoulder again, wondering who was going to shoot me, or stab me in the back.
Now I face the world one day at a time.
I fight not so that I can live, but so that my friends can live.
I fight, because I am the last of those who are willing to stand up and hit back.
&
nbsp; I fight, because that is who I am.
I am Cassidy Hart. I am vengeance.
To be continued in
Book Seven of the Collapse Series
COMING SUMMER 2015
About this new title:
Collapse: The Illustrated Guide
Coming Summer 2015
Fight or die. Choose your side.
Enter the world of Cassidy Hart, the fearless heroine of the post-apocalyptic Collapse Series, straight from the mind of its creator, #1 Bestselling Author Summer Lane. Explore designs from 20 of the most popular characters from the series, including concept art from some of the most famous scenes from Cassidy’s adventures.
Also included are three exclusive short stories from the viewpoints of Chris Young, Sophia Rodriguez and Harry Lydell.
More Titles from Summer Lane
The Collapse Series
State of Emergency
State of Chaos
State of Rebellion
State of Pursuit
State of Alliance
State of Vengeance
State of Destruction (Coming January
2016)
_____
Collapse: Illustrated Guide
Coming Summer 2015
______
The Zero Trilogy
Day Zero
Day One
End of Day (Coming October 9th, 2015)
Bravo: Apocalypse Mission
Coming March 2016
Acknowledgements
As Cassidy Hart begins the last stages of her adventures, I have many reasons to be grateful. This is the sixth book of a ten part series – a series that has done phenomenally well so far and secures thousands of new readers every month. It has spawned The Zero Trilogy and other upcoming and yet untitled novels. That’s the beauty of the world of Cassidy Hart – the story never really ends.
State of Vengeance was somewhat of a challenge for me to write, being that 2015 is the year that I have had to write five books in 365 days. The pressure was a little much, but I like to think that I’m a bit like Cassidy, in that every challenge makes me a better person, and a stronger writer.
There were many people who were involved with the production and editing stages of this novel. There is J.T. of Indie Editor, who sought out typos and grammatical errors with an eagle eye.
