State of Chaos (Collapse Series)

by Summer Lane

  “What?”

  “Totally empty. There’s nothing in there, man.”

  I bite my lip, alarm spiking through me.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say.

  Chris doesn’t disagree, but he doesn’t say anything either.

  “How could they...?” He trails off, lost in his own thoughts. A terrified scream rips through the air at that moment. A woman’s scream – one of our own. We instinctively drop to the ground and focus our sights across the field. Something’s happening. I hear voices and gunfire and then, I turn my head. Because I’m pressed against the ground, I have a great view of the underside of the Omega trucks parked on the property. My eyes settle on a blinking black package attached to the bottom of the bumper of one of the vehicles.

  “Oh, my god,” I breathe. “It’s a bomb.”

  Chris snaps his gaze in my direction, realization hitting us at the same time.

  “Run!” he yells.

  A simple command, but universal. We jump up and book it just as the first bomb detonates. I’m running, so the explosion hits me like a brick wall. I feel the impact slam into my back and send me flying forward several feet. I skid on my stomach and roll over a few times, scraping against dirt and rocks. Metallic tasting blood pools in my mouth. I must have bit my tongue.

  I scramble to my feet, only to fall back down again, dizzy and disoriented. My ears are ringing. Chris grabs my arm and helps me find my balance. I look back over my shoulder and gasp. Three or four of the militiamen in our group are lying motionless on the ground about thirty feet behind us. The Omega truck that exploded is nothing more than a hulking mass of smoking, twisted metal. I’m vaguely aware of rapid gunfire in the background, but my ringing ears make it difficult to gauge the distance of the weapons.

  Chris drags me into the tall grass and suddenly the entire area is alive with lights and movement. Another Omega vehicle detonates on the edge of the property, sending shockwaves through the field. Luckily, none of our men are close enough to it to be killed, but Max’s group is probably more than a little bit singed.

  Omega troops swarm out of the wooded areas bordering the fields, either drawing our men out in the open or pushing them back into the hills. Both are bad. I don’t even have time to take aim and shoot. All I can do is run.

  Because we’ve walked right into a trap.

  I spot Derek’s group going head to head with an Omega patrol. Men and women are knocked to the ground. Shot, knifed, kicked, smashed, punched. The end product is always death. The adrenaline rush I’ve been expecting finally hits me, but it’s tainted with horror. All around me our soldiers are being slaughtered. Omega troopers are boxing us in from all sides. They were waiting for us. Watching us as we approached the building.

  How could they have known we were coming tonight?

  There’s a spy in your camp, my gut tells me.

  I crawl through the grass, following Chris’s lead. We need to reach cover, otherwise we’re going to die. Period. We finally get to Derek’s group, but the only cover we have here is the tall grass.

  These open fields are lethal.

  I take out my gun, but I don’t even have time to use it. An Omega trooper fires at me from twenty feet away, but I see him moving. I duck out of the way and hit the ground, bringing the gun into my shoulder. Powered with superhuman levels of adrenaline and desperation, I sight him, squeeze the trigger, and take him out. Just like that.

  I stay right there on the ground, hidden in the shadows, taking out as many troopers as I can until it’s impossible for me to stay in the same place anymore. One of our militiamen accidentally steps on my back, leaving a muddy footprint on the rear panel of my jacket. Yeah. Time to move and stick to maneuvers I know inside and out: Shoot, move and communicate.

  Chris is fighting next to Max. Both of them are using every weapon at their disposal, everything from guns to their fists. But Omega keeps coming. They continue to swarm out of the hills like grasshoppers. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen some pretty scary stuff since the EMP went down. Sophia literally crashes into me, running at full speed out of the woods. We both tumble to the ground and I look up, my eyes landing on her pursuer, an Omega trooper. I spring to my feet, knock his rifle sideways and kick him hard in the gut. He bends forward, the air rushing out of his lungs. I slam the stock of my rifle across his head and he rolls to the ground, scrambling awkwardly for his weapon. I don’t mess around. This is life or death. I take my rifle, squeeze the trigger and land a close range shot to his chest. He’s so close to me that I actually feel a spray of hot blood splatter across my cheeks as he falls backwards, dead on the ground.

  Sophia grabs my arm.

  “I can’t find Alexander,” she says, covered in sweat. “I think he’s hurt.”

  I meet her gaze.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Retreat!” Max yells. “Fall back! Rally point One!”

  That’s just another way of saying, “We’re screwed. Run for your lives.”

  But there’s nowhere to retreat. Omega’s got us surrounded. We’re closed in on all sides. The militiamen that have been pushed back to the supply depot are being caught in the land mines and IEDs set up by the Omega troopers. A few militiamen find themselves cornered against the warehouse. One sweep of an automatic weapon is all it takes to kill all of them in less than three seconds.

  Just when I think things can’t get any worse, I’m blinded with white light. Sophia and I shield our faces, confused. What the heck is this? A UFO invasion? Are aliens finally taking over the planet?

  I wouldn’t be surprised. Please, take it. There’s not much left.

  My eyes adjust and I focus in on the source of the light. Floodlights. Omega is firing up their backup generators and powering floodlights on top of the depot, shooting the beams of light into the fields. Making it easier for them to pick us off. My heart sticks in my throat.

  We really are dead.

  But wait. I spot a familiar figure standing on the edge of the depot. A flash of dark hair. A tall, muscular frame. He’s kneeling on the ground. Alexander Ramos. He’s watching the proceedings as blood runs down the side of his neck. He’s wounded. Badly. I find myself moving towards him, stopping only to look back and make sure Chris and Sophia are still alive. They are, and they’re putting up a valiant fight, but a wall of Omega troopers are pushing our militia farther and farther back. There won’t be any escape once they reach that point.

  I stop and stare at Alexander. He looks at me. We don’t say anything. A brief thought flashes through my head: He’s a good soldier. He’s just a little rough around the edges. He looks at me like I’m the most annoying thing on planet earth – which is debatable, given the situation – and shakes his head. “Get out of here,” he hisses, clutching his shoulder. Blood is oozing down his shirt. “Now.”

  “Let me help you,” I stutter, shocked at his appearance.

  “Just keep moving,” he commands, wincing. And then, “Please.”

  I don’t hesitate.

  As I’m working my way across the field, I see someone else. Harry Lydell. He’s standing motionless next to an Omega vehicle on the other side of the property, a safe distance away from the battlefield. He’s unarmed, watching everything with catlike curiosity, and something about that really bothers me. I stalk towards him, my weapon raised.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand.

  “You really are stupid,” he says, pronouncing every word like it’s part of a British play. He’s staring down the barrel of my rifle. “You walked right into this.”

  “You?” I gape at him. “You betrayed us?”

  “Cassidy, I was never with you in the first place.” His eyes shift to the right and then snap back to me. “I’ve been with Omega the whole time. Since day one.”

  “But the militia gave you your freedom,” I say, shocked. “They saved you from Omega.”

  “No. Omega gave me my freedom. I’ve been spy
ing on you since that first day I started working with you in the fields.” A twisted smile crawls across his face. “When I was liberated by the militia, it made things difficult. It took a long time to get back in contact with my commander.”

  “You’re really disgusting, you know that?” I spit.

  “Oh, I know. Don’t flatter me, Cassidy.”

  “You do realize I’m pointing a gun at your head, right?”

  “You won’t kill me.” He chuckles. “You have trouble killing people you have a relationship with.”

  “My relationship with you is non-existent. You know what? Maybe I’ll save everybody the trouble-”

  I never get to finish my sentence, which is sad, because I was just getting to the best part. Something knocks me sideways and I hit the ground with an unattractive thud. A fiery pain explodes just below my ribcage. I look down and press my hand against my side. I lift my hand up, horrified to see my palm dripping in blood.

  I’ve been shot.

  I kneel on the ground, too shocked for the pain to sink in...yet. Harry is standing there with a dry expression on his face, observing me like a kid in a pet store might look at a lizard in a cage. It’s just that creepy. He takes a few steps forward and grabs my rifle before I can even think, effectively disarming me. I tilt my head up, clutching my stomach, focusing in on a pair of knee-high leather boots. I follow the boots up to a pair of dark pants, a jacket and a familiar face.

  “Kamaneva,” I state, trembling.

  She doesn’t say anything. She only raises an eyebrow, casually holding the gun in her hand that just landed a whopper to my side. There’s too much going on around me for the realization of all that’s happened to really hit home. I’m frozen. You could wrap me up in a blanket and throw me in a freezer and I’d be oblivious to it. I can’t move.

  “Well done, Harry,” Kamaneva says, her voice emotionless. “As for you, Cassidy: Nice try.”

  If I could feel my stomach, I’m sure it would be churning with anxiety right about now. But the bottom half of my body is going numb, and with it, so is my brain. Everything’s getting fuzzy. Not even my adrenaline rush is going to keep me awake for long.

  Or alive.

  Desperation sets in. Kamaneva is trying to kill me...again. I slowly move my bloody, sweaty hand towards my belt, leaning forward enough to hide the movement. “They’re all as good as dead,” Harry says, looking at Kamaneva. “They’re completely boxed in.”

  “You of all people should know that our militia can get out of this,” I reply, gritting my teeth. The pain train is pulling into the station. “You’ve seen us fight before.”

  “Actually, I haven’t. I was always left behind at camp. Nobody trusted me.” He flashes a wicked smile. “Rightfully so.”

  “Traitor.”

  Yeah. That’s the worst insult I can dream up right now. Because Kamaneva’s going to blow my brains out in about five seconds and I have to move fast. I close my fingers around the hilt of Jeff’s knife hidden in my boot, pull it out of its sheath, and snap it forward, flinging it at Kamaneva’s chest. She deftly steps aside and it grazes her arm. It gives me the split second I need to make my move. I jump up and make a mad dash back towards the battlefield. Back towards Chris. I run in a zig-zag pattern, throwing off Kamaneva’s shots. I can barely hold myself upright, because when I do, the world starts spinning and I begin losing my balance. I’m guessing that has something to do with the shock of a bullet entering my body. To say nothing of rapid blood loss.

  This is not my best day. Or night.

  Whatever.

  “Chris!” I shout.

  Our militiamen are actually pushing back against the Omega troops, forcing them towards the center of the field, cutting a hole in their lines. It’s turned into an all out bloodbath. Soldiers are fighting hand to hand, tackling each other, jamming knives into each other’s throats. I turn away from the gut-wrenching scene and find Chris in the thick of the battlefield. There’s no way he can see me.

  I make a desperate attempt to find cover, lunging behind an overturned vehicle. There’s not much left of it besides a charred frame and some twisted metal, but it’ll do. Kamaneva is still behind me, and I’m not in the mood to come face to face with one of her guns again. The third time is so not the charm.

  I crawl on my hands and knees, bullets hitting the metal on some of the cars, zipping just over my head. I scramble to the other side of the car and claw my way into the tall grass, blinking back tears of pain. My body feels like it’s on fire, which can’t be a good sign. I stumble upon a dead Omega soldier. His handgun is lying next to him. I pick it up and manage to climb to my feet, staggering far enough into the field to take cover behind a tree, pressing my back against the trunk. I spot Kamaneva. She’s no more than thirty feet away, trying to figure out a way to get to me without putting herself in the direct line of the fire from the battleground.

  She glares at me and starts firing in my direction. I shift my position and make sure the tree shields my entire body. I’m safe for now, but not forever. I look at the gun in my hand, wondering if there’s any ammo left in it. The battle is raging around me. An Omega trooper appears out of the grass and spots me. I react without thinking, snapping a round to his chest.

  Yeah. There’s ammo in it.

  That’s the second guy I’ve shot at close range today. I swallow the nausea and turn my attention to Kamaneva. What I really need to do is kill her, just like every other Omega soldier. I lift the gun, sighting her. It’s not hard. She’s exposing herself in order to reach me, and that will be the death of her.

  But my hands are shaking and I’m having a hard time keeping the sights in the middle of her chest. I adjust the weapon, getting mad at myself. I’m clutching my side with one hand, blood pouring between my fingers. The gun wavers in my other.

  Just do it, I think. This woman is evil. She doesn’t deserve mercy.

  Right?

  A split second of hesitation is just about the worst thing you can do in the middle of a fight. Kamaneva ducks out of sight, disappearing into the tall grass. I lose her and keep a tight grip on my handgun, unable to stand by myself. All I’ve got left is the gun in my hand – and the ammo that’s left inside it. Once I run out, I’m dead.

  Kamaneva crawls out of the grass, slathered in mud and grime. She’s filthy, and there’s an expression on her face that can only be described as possessed. “Dead,” she hisses.

  I’m not sure whom she’s referring to. Herself, her daughter, or me.

  Probably all three.

  “You’re about to be,” I mutter.

  She jerks backwards and hits the ground, her hand to her chest. I blink, memories resurfacing of Kamaneva getting shot by Max the last time she tried to kill me. And now red blood is blossoming in the center of her chest, getting bigger by the second. She gasps and stares at me in horror, coughing. Blood starts trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

  She starts to say something – maybe it’s something important, maybe not – but before she can get it out my attention is drawn to the right. A tall man walks out of the bushes. A militiaman dressed in dark brown camouflage with a broad rim hat pulled down over his forehead. His face is covered with a standard face scarf. He looks down at Kamaneva, kicking her weapon aside with his foot. He says nothing.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  He turns to me and nods, and that’s when I notice the white star etched into the sleeve of his jacket. It’s a pretty crude depiction, but the shape is distinct. I force myself to my feet. “You’re a Mountain Ranger,” I realize.

  “Yes, ma’am.” His voice has a southern twang. “And you’re a Freedom Fighter.”

  “That’s debatable, but yeah,” I say. “How are you here?”

  He doesn’t answer immediately. He drops to one knee.

  “We got a tip,” he replies. “And the boss said to come running.”

  I turn back to look at the hills. The yelling and gunfire has kicked up a notch and my anonymous M
ountain Ranger friend disappears into the battle, leaving me alone with a dying Kamaneva. She’s sputtering for air, turning to the side, trying to spit out the blood pooling in her mouth. Harry has vanished.

  I kneel next to her, too wired and wounded to find a boatload of sympathy for a woman who murdered hundreds – possibly thousands – of innocent men, women and children. And yet I still whisper,” I’m sorry.” She looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. “I really am.” An expression of disbelief crosses her face before she stares into the distance, her eyes going glassy.

  Kamaneva is dead.

  “Cassie!” Chris bursts out of the grass, grabbing my arm. It takes him about two seconds to assess the situation. He looks at Kamaneva. He looks at me. “You’ve been shot.” His expression tightens and he wraps an arm under my shoulders, dragging me away from the field.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, clinging to him for dear life. My energy level is draining away. “Chris? Now is not the time to take a grand tour of this place!”

  “We’re losing, Cassie,” he replies, moving behind the same vehicle I just took cover under a few minutes ago. “You need to get inside the warehouse and stay safe.”

  He pulls back my jacket and lifts up my shirt, looking at my gunshot wound. His face betrays no emotion, but I can tell by the way he’s clutching the material that whatever he’s thinking doesn’t have anything to do with positivity.

  “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I state. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “No.” He takes my face between his hands. “You are not going to die.”

  Another Mountain Ranger appears from the grass, distinguishable by his broad rim hat and white star on the sleeve of his jacket. “Chris...” I mutter. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  He doesn’t let go of me, but he flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. A human wave of Mountain Rangers are pouring over the side of the hill, opening fire on Omega. Smoke is blanketing the entire field. Mortar rounds explode, sending bits of rock, glass and twisted metal into the air. The constant roar of automatic gunfire permeates the air. The strong smell of gunpowder and burning vegetation is heavy.