State of Chaos (Collapse Series)

by Summer Lane

Chris gives him a lethal look. The kind of look he usually gives Omega troopers before he beats the crap out of them. Max doesn’t look too thrilled, either. In fact, the entire militia force is thinking of killing Harry, judging by the expressions on their faces.

  “Kill the traitor,” somebody hisses.

  More people take up the same chant. Every muscle in Chris’s body is tense and coiled. His grip on Harry’s neck is so tight that I’m afraid he’s going to kill him.

  “Chris,” I say, panic rising in my chest. “Stop. He didn’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice,” Chris grits. “I would have died before I put you in harm’s way.”

  “Yes, because you’re strong,” I reply. “Harry’s not. Let him go.”

  “This is not a game,” Chris replies. “He almost got you killed.”

  “Hang him,” somebody suggests.

  Have I jumped into the Dark Ages?

  A chorus of agreement echoes throughout the camp. Chris adjusts his vice-like hold on Harry’s neck, pulling him in closer. For a split second I think he’s going to say something, but instead he lands a crushing punch to Harry’s stomach. The air goes out of him and he doubles over.

  “Stop this!” I say, running to Chris. I grab his arm. “You can’t kill him.”

  “If he betrayed you once, he’ll betray you twice,” Chris replies. His eyes are bright with fury as he draws his handgun. “Get out of the way.”

  “Just get on with it!” the militiamen urge.

  I shove Chris’s gun aside. He turns his angry gaze on me and drops Harry, taking a step back. Harry coughs and hacks on his hands and knees. I stand between him and Chris, raising my chin.

  “We can’t execute people,” I say. “We’ll be no better than Omega if we do.”

  “Sometimes executions are necessary,” Chris spits.

  “This piece of filth doesn’t deserve to live,” Max adds, folding his arms across his chest. “You do realize you almost got shot in the head because of him, right?”

  “I know exactly what he did,” I reply, waving my fist in Max’s face. “And it’s not like I’m ready to give him a free pass out of jail and bake him a cake. I’m saying we can’t kill him. Omega kills people. We can’t. We have to live by the law of the land – nobody else will if we don’t.”

  I glare at Chris. A muscle ticks in his jaw. We endure an epic stare-down before he finally turns to Harry. He kicks him hard and hauls him up by his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “Look at her,” he growls. “She just saved your worthless life. It won’t happen twice.”

  He shoves him towards Max.

  “Give him a job,” he commands, taking my arm.

  I release a breath, thanking God that this little scene didn’t play out the way I thought it might. We just came this close to dissolving into total anarchy.

  The tension is palpable as the militiamen disperse and Harry is dragged off by Max. As we leave the trucks behind, I realize that we’ve parked right outside a large campsite. Blankets and tents are arranged throughout the wooded areas. Pots and pans, bags of supplies, weaponry. Men wearing the same dark blue armbands are standing guard around the perimeter of the camp. They nod respectfully at Chris as he passes.

  “So this is your army?” I whisper.

  “You might say that,” Chris replies.

  “Can I have an army, too? Because that would be awesome.”

  Chris stops and pulls me aside, pressing me flat against a pine tree.

  “Consider it done,” he says, kissing me on the lips. I thread my fingers through his long hair, feeling the roughness of his beard scratch my cheeks. “I missed you.”

  He pulls away to look me in the eyes.

  “Not as much as I missed you,” I say.

  “Doubtful.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me when I came back to the trailer and you were gone?”

  “I have a general idea.” I smile softly. “I’m sorry. There was an Omega trooper inside the house. I don’t know how he got in.”

  “Omega patrol.” Chris kisses my forehead. “We need to have a long talk about everything that’s happened.”

  “I agree.”

  “But first there’s something you need to see.”

  “Does it involve dinner? Or a bath?”

  Chris grins.

  “Yes, actually.”

  I take his hand and follow him through the camp. Men and women alike are mingling together, doing chores, stitching up wounds. Some of the females are standing guard along with the men. There’s a large makeshift tent set up at the edge of camp, open in the front and closed in the back. Camping chairs and tables are arranged around it. Chris places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me forward.

  “Look who’s home,” he announces.

  I give him a puzzled look before a familiar head of blonde hair appears at the mouth of the tent. My jaw drops.

  “Isabel?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Cassidy!”

  Twelve-year-old Isabel crosses the space between us and throws her arms around my neck, hugging me like an overexcited chipmunk. I hug her back, shocked.

  “How...?” I ask.

  She stands back and I smooth her hair away from her face. It’s longer than it used to be, but still untamable. Her blue eyes are wide with delight. She’s wearing loose cargo pants and boots, her jacket buttoned up to her neck.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” she squeals. “I missed you so much!”

  I look to Chris for some sort of an explanation. He laughs out loud just as somebody else walks out of the tent. I cover my mouth with my hands.

  Chris’s mother is wearing old jeans and a plaid button up – just like she was the last time I saw her. Her gray hair is swept into a loose bun. When she sees me, she starts smiling. “Cassidy Hart,” she exclaims, pulling me into a warm embrace. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “How are you here?” I ask, returning the hug. “Seriously. I’m confused here.”

  “Well, you’re about to get a whole lot more confused,” a voice says behind me.

  Chris’s younger brother, Jeff, ambles out of the tent, yanking me into a bear hug. He musses my hair. “What happened to you? You look like a rocker chick with that haircut.”

  I make a face.

  “You’re one to talk.”

  His hair is starting to get shaggy around the edges, making me wonder if he’s trying to copy Chris and grow his hair out long. Whatever. I hug him again. And then Mr. Young steps outside. His appearance is unchanged, but his eyes are sad.

  “Cassidy,” he says. “Good to see you back.”

  I turn in a circle and look everybody over.

  “This is real, right?” I ask. “Chris? Explain please.”

  “Why don’t you come inside and rest?” Mrs. Young suggests. “We’ll explain everything.”

  Chris slips his arms around my shoulders and leads me inside the tent. I take a seat on a foam mattress, crossing my legs. Isabel snuggles up against my shoulder, wrapping her hands around my arm. “You look weird with short hair,” she says.

  “Gee, thanks,” I reply, too tired to get my feelings hurt.

  Jeff settles down beside us while Mr. Young sits on a camping chair. Mrs. Young starts rummaging through a cardboard box full of supplies. “You must be starving,” she says. “I’ll get something for you to eat.”

  “Don’t forget your hungry son, either,” Chris comments.

  “I won’t.” She smiles fondly at him. “I was worried about you today.”

  “I’m back in one piece. Don’t worry, mom.”

  She presses her lips together.

  “How are you guys here?” I ask. “Chris and I saw your house burned down. There was nothing left. I thought Omega took you!”

  “Do you remember when you left to go find your father up at your family cabin a few months ago?” Mrs. Young says, pulling out some canned goods. “Chris left the next day to fi
nd you. He was so worried.”

  “I remember,” I reply.

  “You were gone for a couple of weeks,” she continues. “I knew you’d be coming back – Chris wouldn’t leave you out there alone. But Omega came.”

  “I was out hunting,” Jeff explains. “I saw them coming, man. They were burning houses on their way up the hill. I came home and told the folks, and we took off.”

  “Omega burned the farm and killed the animals,” Chris adds.

  “Where did you go?” I ask Jeff.

  “Here. Well, not here specifically, but to this group.” He leans forward. “The Free Army is basically what’s left of Squaw Valley. Anybody who hasn’t been enslaved, subjugated or killed is right here in this camp.”

  “They took us in,” Mrs. Young adds. “We’ve been here ever since.”

  “I found them after you were taken, Cassie,” Chris says. “I ran into some of the militia and they took me back to camp. After I found my folks, I started working on finding you.”

  “Mission accomplished,” I smile.

  “Right.” He kisses my fingers. “My family was here the whole time.”

  “Duh,” Isabel mutters. “I can’t believe you didn’t find us sooner.”

  “Finding the militia is no simple matter,” Mr. Young says. “They’re well hidden and you can only find them if they want to be found.”

  “Well, they’re much better organized now that Chris is in charge,” Mrs. Young sighs, pride lighting her features. “He really changed things around here.”

  “So what does that make you?” I ask Chris. “Captain? Commander? Boss?”

  “I’m not officially in charge of anything,” Chris replies, stretching his long legs across the floor. “It just happened.”

  “People naturally follow Chris,” Mrs. Young says.

  I nod. Max said almost that exact thing during the ride up here.

  “Who was in charge before you got here?”

  “Alexander,” Jeff answers, frowning. “But that’s another long story. Let’s eat, mom.”

  Mrs. Young gets out a portable camping stove.

  “Where did you get all this gear?” I ask.

  “Oh, it’s ours,” Jeff says. “We loaded up that Hummer you two stole from Omega in December and filled it with all of our camping supplies before we left the farm. It was a smart move.”

  “No kidding.” I pause. “What do you do about fuel?”

  “We steal it.” Isabel sits up, grinning. “That’s kind of what we do here.”

  “Steal gas?”

  “No. We raid Omega supplies,” Jeff corrects. “We take back food, water, ammunition, weapons and fuel. It hurts them and helps us.”

  “Destroying that labor camp today will screw up much of their supply line of food in the Central Valley for a while,” Chris says. “Plus, other militias will hear about it. It’s good for people know that somebody’s fighting back.”

  “So when you showed up here...I guess the whole idea of taking down the labor camp wasn’t foreign to these people,” I say.

  “Right.” Chris shifts his position, examining his dirt-stained hands.

  “Dinner will only take a few minutes,” Mrs. Young assures us.

  I lean against Chris’s shoulder, closing my eyes. For the first time in weeks, I’m not marching to the beat of Omega’s drum. There’s no roll call, no ten-minute dinner limit, no executions and no Kamaneva.

  “You think Kamaneva is still alive?” I ask.

  “It’s a possibility,” Chris says. “But it doesn’t matter. The labor camp is totaled.”

  “That’s so unfair,” Jeff sighs.

  “Don’t start that again,” Mrs. Young sighs.

  “Don’t start what?” I ask.

  “Jeff wants to fight, too,” Mrs. Young says. “But he’s not ready for combat yet.”

  “Oh, yeah. I get to stay in camp and guard all the old ladies.” Jeff rolls his eyes. “Real thrilling.”

  I giggle.

  “Hey,” Jeff says, perking up. “You still have that knife I gave you?”

  My heart sinks.

  “No. I haven’t seen my backpack since...” I trail off, watching as Chris pulls a knife out of a sheath strapped to his leg. “Is that mine?”

  “Saved it for you,” Chris says.

  I take the weapon and turn it over. Yup. My name is engraved on the handle.

  “You’re the best,” I reply, kissing his cheek.

  “I can’t argue with that,” Chris shrugs, winking.

  I look at the knife for a little while, remembering when Jeff gave it to me last Christmas. We were all together, then. But one thing was still the same:

  My father wasn’t there.

  “Cassie?” Chris touches my face. “What is it?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nothing. Just...” I exhale. “I guess nobody’s heard any news about my dad?”

  Mrs. Young hesitates before answering, dumping a can of beans into a cooking pot. She sets the pot on the stove and gets to work on the rest of the meal. “No,” she says. “I’m so sorry, honey. I really am. But your father’s situation is a lot different than ours. Omega actually arrested him.”

  “Do we know that for sure?” I argue. “I mean, yeah, there was a huge sign tacked on the cabin door from the freaking Sheriff of Nottingham, but my name was on there, and so was Chris’s. And neither of us was arrested. What if my dad wasn’t either?”

  A heavy silence fills the camp.

  “If that’s the case,” Chris says at last, “then your dad would find a way to get to you. He’s that kind of man.”

  “What if he’s dead?” I mutter, chilled.

  “He’s not dead.” Chris shares a concerned glance with his mother. “Let’s not talk about this now. You need to eat and get cleaned up. All of us do. It’s been a long day.”

  Tell me about it. One of the longest days of my life.

  And I thought standing in line at the DMV was a bad deal.

  We eat a hot, heavy meal of canned meat, vegetables and bread. I devour everything like a puppy, starving for big portions of food. I haven’t seen Sophia since I arrived, but I’m betting she’s doing the same thing as I am right now: stuffing her face.

  When I’m done eating, I follow Mrs. Young into the back of the tent. She lifts up a little flap and we walk outside. There’s a big metal bin sitting on the edge of the campsite, surrounded by several curtains made out of tarpaulin. It’s a makeshift washroom. “Jeff will get you some water, and you can start scrubbing away all of that dirt,” she says, smiling.

  I swipe my hand over my arm rub the crud between my thumb and index finger. Yeah. That’s gross on a number of levels. Thanks for a great lesson in anti-hygiene, Kamaneva.

  Her name brings a bitter taste to my mouth – and a little bit of guilt. She was a split second from shooting me point blank in the head when Max took her down. I have every right and reason to hate her...but I don’t. Not really. How perverted is it that I actually feel sorry for her?

  I just can’t imagine living life being so hateful.

  Not to mention trigger-happy.

  “Okay, here you go.” Jeff comes around the corner about a half an hour later. I help him fill up the tub with cool water. I’d prefer taking a bubble bath, but hey. This is a heck of a lot better than sitting around smelling like a trashcan. He leaves me alone and I get an hour of something I haven’t had in a long time: Privacy.

  I peel off my gross prison-issued clothes and step into the water. It’s cold, but it feels good. I scrub every inch of dirt and filth off my body. Mrs. Young brings me some clean clothes and she takes the old ones away.

  She’s probably going to burn them. Personally, I’d opt to use them as bear repellant. There are some not-so-pleasant scents wrapped up in those things.

  When I’m done, I put on some snug cargo pants, a long sleeve shirt, a jacket and – wonder of wonders – a pair of combat boots. I slip on some socks and lace up the boots, delighted
to be reunited with some footwear that loves me as much as I love them.

  “Alright,” I say, combing my fingers through my wet hair.

  It’s so short. Just another reminder of Omega’s presence in my life.

  When I step back into the tent, it’s already getting dark. Chris looks up at me. He’s already cleaned up. His black tee shirt is tight against his lean, muscular frame. His hair is hanging loose and damp around his face. I don’t even realize I’m staring at him until he starts laughing.

  “See something you like?” he teases.

  “Um...” I blush. “I was just...you know...looking.”

  “I know.” He stands up and places one hand on each side of my face. “You look beautiful when you’re cleaned up.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “As opposed to what? Looking like I was just liberated from enslavement?”

  “Nah, you always look pretty.” Chris presses a slow, gentle kiss against my lips. Enough to make my toes curl. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this. It was my job to protect you, and I failed.”

  “You didn’t fail at anything-”

  “-Let me finish, Cassie.” He pulls back and starts pacing, a sign that he’s either tense or nervous. Maybe both. “I don’t know if you’ve been impressed with the fact that I went ballistic trying to find you. I looked everywhere.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  I swallow.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “But I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “I know. When I found out where you were through the underground in the Free Army, I knew I had to come get you.” He glances across the campsite where Max is gathered with a few of the men. “Max was instrumental. He did a lot behind the scenes to keep you alive. But when Kamaneva put you in solitary, Max knew you were going to be executed the next morning. We had to change our plans. We had to attack the camp a lot earlier than we were thinking.”

  “You were amazing,” I shrug. “You completely surprised Omega.”

  “We got lucky.” He stops again. “You came way too close to getting killed. I owe everything to Max for saving you from that bullet.”

  “Max is a good man,” I agree. “I can’t believe I thought he was a sleazy creep who liked hitting on teenage girls.”