Collapse Series (Book 8): State of Fear (

by Lane, Summer

  State of Fear

  Collapse Series #8

  Summer Lane

  Copyright 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  WB Publishing

  Summer Lane

  No part of this work may be reproduced in any form, except to quote in reviews or in the press, without the express permission of the author. Any unauthorized reproduction of this work is illegal and punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any parallel to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  For Scott.

  Marrying you will be the greatest adventure.

  Here’s to October 1st.

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Connect with Summer Lane:

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  “It’s okay, everybody made it out alive,” Chris said.

  He reached across the seat and held my hand. I grasped his fingers firmly in mine. We drove in a roaring, screeching Humvee out of San Francisco, the city ablaze in our wake. The utter destruction was behind us, and the barren desert was before us.

  I could feel Uriah’s steely gaze on the back of my head as we drove, and as my fingers held Chris’s hand, I could feel the cold tension in Chris’s arm, the controlled fury behind his eyes. He was angry about San Francisco; he was angry at me.

  Truth be told, I was angry at him, too.

  After I had escaped the devastation of an assassination mission into the Omega stronghold, Red Grove, I had expected Chris to be a little more…overjoyed about my survival. I had evaded death yet again. I felt like Chris had erected a wall around his heart, afraid – once again – to love me, because he thought I had died.

  But really, we were all going to die.

  It was just a matter of when.

  Chapter One

  Sector 27 – Somewhere in the California Desert, Death Valley

  “What’s wrong with you, Cassidy?” Chris demands.

  I have never seen him so angry with me. Not like this.

  “I have to go,” I say.

  My words are hollow, expressionless.

  “This is about me, isn’t it?” Chris retorts, eyes flashing. He stands up from the couch, his hands curled into fists, his knuckles turning white. “You’re angry with me. You’re angry, so you’re leaving. Where is this coming from? This isn’t like you! You don’t leave, Cassie. You stand and fight. You get the job done.”

  “I know,” I reply, arms folded across my chest. “That’s why I have to leave. I won’t get anything done here. Not anymore.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “It’s not. And you know it.” I turn my head, slowly meeting his gaze. “I am not some innocent flower child, Chris. I’m not just some girl anymore. I’m a soldier, I’ve killed a lot of people, and I’ve seen a lot of the people I love die. I can’t get away from that – ever. Not here. These people…the militias. They’re great, really. But they don’t get it. They don’t get me. I scare them. I need to go. I need to start over.”

  “You need to stay here.”

  I sigh. I am sure of so few things in this moment.

  I am sure that I want Omega destroyed. I am sure that I miss my father, and my friends, and my old life. I am sure that I love Chris, too. Those things will never change, ever.

  But I am unsure of what we should do next, now that Omega has ravaged our coastline and nuked our cities.

  I am tired. I am a dry, withered vine in need of a long, soothing rain.

  I feel myself drifting away from Chris, away from the militias. Away from the same fight, over and over again. I want real security and safety. Real warmth and victory.

  California is the enemy’s now.

  I don’t want to be here, not anymore. There is too much death. Too much blood.

  “Come with me,” I say.

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “And why not? Why can’t we all just relocate?”

  “Because we are all that is standing between Omega and their total domination of the West Coast!”

  “Chris, they’re already here. We need to get out of here and regroup, or what’s left of our forces is going to be obliterated.”

  “No. I don’t believe that.”

  “Always the optimist,” I whisper. “Maybe you’re right. But I can’t stay here. You have to let me go. You know my time is up here.”

  Chris stares at me, electric green eyes wide and shocked.

  A thick quietness hangs in the room.

  “What will happen to us?” Chris asks softly.

  Not him, not me. But both of us. Together. Bound by something deeper and stronger than mere attraction.

  “We’ll survive,” I tell him. “We always do.”

  Chris’s face is tight, contained. I swear I can hear him screaming on the inside.

  “I always thought we would find a way to stay together,” Chris says at last, his voice tense. “Even in the middle of all this…insanity.”

  “This isn’t forever,” I say. “You can come join me when your work here is done.”

  “My work isn’t done until Omega is eradicated from this state.”

  We both know what that means: either Omega loses or Chris dies trying. Period.

  “I will always love you, Cassidy Hart,” Chris says. Crystalline tears shine in the corners of his eyes.

  “And I will always love you,” I reply. “This doesn’t change that.”

  This time, I cannot keep the tremor out of my voice.

  I stand, ever so slowly, and Chris places his hand on my hip. He is close enough that I can smell him – the scent of warm coffee mingled with gunpowder and fresh dirt. We look at each other, worn, beaten, tired, spent. There is so much love between us, so much loyalty. Chris leans forward, his breath hot against my cheek, pressing his lips against my face. I close my eyes, the familiar touch of his kiss so comforting, yet so heartbreaking. His lips find their way to mine, and he pulls me close in a strong embrace. I kiss him like I have never kissed him before, like a drowning woman desperate for air. I thread my fingers through his hair and grasp tightly. I feel the hot, acidic sting of salty tears washing down my cheeks. We kiss until we have no more breath, until Chris pulls away, wipes the tears off my cheeks with his thumb, and we separate. Two separate continents adrift in the sea, once again torn apart by war.

  He says nothing. I say nothing.

  He takes his jacket, he turns, he opens the door.

  “This isn’t the end,” he says quietly. “We will win this.”

  He leaves.

  And I am alone again. Truly alone.

  ***

  Sector 27 is the most barren stretch of wilderness I’ve ever seen. From my vantage point beneath the camouflaged loading dock in the side of a rocky mountain, I can see for miles in every direction. Nothing but desert hills and plains. It’s beautiful, really. The colors, the landscapes, the rise and fall of the earth.

  So different than what I am used to.

  But barren. Empty, like an alien planet.

  I close my eyes, and I think of San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge cascading into the harbor. I think of Ve
ronica Klaus – the Omega Chancellor – and her smug, calculating smile. I think of the destruction of the city and the ravaged ruins of Alcatraz Island.

  Gone. All of it.

  Finally, Omega has pushed us out of the way, and they now rule the California coastline with an iron fist.

  “Cassidy, are you okay?”

  Elle Costas approaches me from the shadows. Her short, black hair frames a pale face and bright, blue eyes. Her dog, a German Shepherd explosives detection canine named Bravo, follows closely.

  “Yeah, sure,” I reply, forcing a smile. “You?”

  “Mmm,” she says. “I know when you’re lying.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah. You’re not okay.”

  I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Well, none of us are, really,” I reply.

  Elle is barely sixteen years old, but she has the maturity of someone far older. I don’t bother hiding things from her. She is too smart for that…and so is her dog.

  “Are you really going to leave California?” she asks quietly.

  I don’t answer right away. Here, in the bowels of Sector 27, it is easy to believe that the invasion of the West Coast never happened. The eight-thousand-man force of the militias and National Guard are living beneath this mountain, licking their wounds and planning their next move.

  “Yes,” I say at last. “I think it’s time.”

  Elle places her hand on top of Bravo’s head.

  “So you’re going to Alaska, then?”

  “Yeah.”

  A long silence hangs between us.

  “I want to come with you,” she says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. My family’s dead. I might as well.”

  “What about your Uncle Manny and Aunt Arlene?”

  Elle sighs.

  “I love them,” she tells me, “but I hate it here. I came to Sector 27 once, did I tell you that, Commander?” She looks sad. “Bravo and I…we left friends here. Jay, Georgia and Flash were their names.”

  “What happened to them?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I thought I would see them when we came here…but they’re gone.” She shrugs. “I want to come with you. Please, Commander. Don’t say no.”

  I place my hand on Elle’s shoulder.

  “Of course I’m not going to say that… You can come.”

  She smiles.

  “Thank you.”

  The sun begins to rise over the hills, spreading a pinkish light across the desert. The light is quickly swallowed up by dark, black clouds. It starts raining.

  “Commander Young is staying here, isn’t he?” Elle asks, frowning.

  A dagger of pain pierces my heart.

  “Yes,” I say. “He’s staying.”

  “Will he meet us in Alaska, then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Elle furrows her brow.

  “He still loves you, doesn’t he?”

  I look at her sharply.

  “Elle, I don’t want to talk about this, okay?” I clear my throat. “We have to go meet with Arlene.”

  I check my analog watch. Yes. It’s time.

  Besides, I can’t just stand around staring at the sunrise. It makes me think about what I am about to do – and what Chris is about to do, too.

  We walk through Sector 27’s loading docks, past dozens of parked Humvees and pickups. We enter the stairwell and climb one flight below, where the concrete hallways are tall and ominous. We pass the chow hall – which is noisy and full of hungry soldiers – and a section of barracks for female militia fighters.

  In the hours after arriving here, Chris and I had dragged ourselves to our respective barracks, collapsing with exhaustion. When I awoke, I couldn’t remember where I was. It took a few minutes for me to gain my bearings…and then it all came back to me in a tidal wave. I had sat up, winded, and wincing. I had been punctured by shrapnel during my mission to Red Grove and had never asked the medical team to treat it.

  I remember looking down at it, surprised to find that the wound had reopened. Blood had pooled on my cot and soaked into my clothes.

  Oops.

  So I ended up spending all morning in the medical wing, getting sanitized and stitched up, receiving a new uniform and taking a hot shower…right after Chris stormed into my private quarters, demanding to know what I was thinking about Alaska. How could I leave California? How could I leave him?

  It’s only temporary, I think. It will be okay.

  We reach the last room on the right. I open the metal doors. It is huge inside, a long, dark room with a massive table. Seated around the table are Arlene and Manny Costas, Chris Young, Vera Wright, Andrew Decker, and someone who I have not seen in a long time: Devin, from Monterey.

  Manny and Arlene are sitting far apart. Manny’s wild, gray hair is tucked under a red bandana, and his usually cheery face is imprinted with a deep frown. Chris stares at me as I walk in, a deep, fiery gaze that burns a hole through my chest.

  “Commander Hart,” Devin says, flashing his pearly whites.

  He is a Navy SEAL, just like Chris. I am surprised to see him here.

  “Devin,” I say. “Good to see you.”

  There are several other militia and National Guard commanders sitting around the table, too. I do not recognize them. They are leaders that have been stationed in Sector 27 since the beginning of the invasion.

  “Well, we’re all here,” Arlene says, smoothing her white hair away from her face. She looks worn and weary. “Let’s begin.”

  Vera locks eyes with me as I take a seat with Elle. Her blond hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail. Andrew is sitting beside her, holding her hand under the table.

  “I think the first order of business,” I say, looking at Arlene, “is to explain to everybody in this room why the safe haven in Alaska was never previously mentioned.”

  Arlene stands up, slowly making her way to the front of the room. She waves to the back of the room, and the lights dim. A bright projector tosses a glowing image of an Alaskan map on the wall.

  “Secrecy was of the utmost importance,” Arlene replies, avoiding my eyes.

  “Oh, you mean the kind of secrecy that you guys had in Sky City?” Vera snorts. “Because that worked out great for everyone, right?”

  Silence.

  Manny’s frown deepens.

  “This is much different,” Arlene goes on, clearing her throat. I notice that her fingers are trembling slightly. “This is not a military camp. This is a survivor colony. There are thousands of people here. They have a working government – an elected president, a small senate…everything.”

  “How do we benefit in any way by leaving California to the wolves and high-tailing it up to the middle of nowhere?” Manny suddenly asks, tapping his long fingers on the table. “Hmm? We’ll just be trading surviving in the desert for surviving in the snow, wrestling with moose and whatever else Mother Nature decides to throw at us.”

  “Well, first of all,” Arlene says, “we’ll be free from radiation fallout. Thousands of miles away, lots of fresh air. It will be safe enough to go outside without being covered or wearing gas masks. And second of all, we could regroup, reorganize and strategize against Omega.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Andrew mutters.

  Vera glances at him, her lips pursed.

  “Okay, but I’ve got a question,” she says, raising her hand. “Omega is here now, in California. They’ve finally got their stronghold on the West Coast. We’ve lost that battle. Why not just sacrifice the state and pull back somewhere closer – like Nevada, or Texas?”

  “Because we’re not entirely sure what’s there,” Chris replies.

  His voice is strong and slightly raspy. He is tired.

  I don’t look at him. I can’t.

  “Plus, the nuclear fallout is being carried east, anyway,” Arlene continues. “Alaska will give us a chance to be so far away from the invasion that we can actually rest easy, knowing t
hat Omega troops or patrols won’t be creeping up on us at night.”

  I stare at my hands.

  Arlene’s words make sense, but I know, deep down, that no matter where we go, we will never be completely free of Omega. They will find us, eventually.

  “I’m going,” I say, placing my palms on the table. “We’ve lost this battle. It’s time to think outside the box. Omega is too powerful. We’ve got eight thousand men – that’s it! Omega’s got millions of foot soldiers, and their forces in San Francisco alone almost obliterated us. We’ve got to be smarter than just forming a blockade against them.” I shake my head. “We need more reinforcements, and we need to get out of here. Because they will come, and this time they will be too powerful, and we will die.”

  My words hang in the air like a poisonous cloud.

  “We need to base our operations outside of the state, somewhere where we can safely disappear,” I go on. “Remember back in the early days of the war, when we would fight during the night and disappear into the mountains during the day? We can’t do that anymore, not in California. Our advantage is gone – Omega’s got the upper hand. We have to gain an advantage again, and I don’t see how we can do that unless we make a full retreat to Alaska.”

  Vera stands up.

  “Cassidy’s right!” she says, glaring at everyone. “We’ve been fighting in the same stupid skirmishes over and over again, and I’m freaking sick of it. I’m sick of watching my friends and family die. It’s time for a change. I’m going to Alaska, too. Count me in.”

  Andrew looks shocked, paling a little.

  “I’m going, too,” Elle says. “Me and Bravo, I mean.”

  Arlene stares at her.

  “Elle, you don’t –”

  “Don’t try to stop me,” Elle interrupts. There is an edge to her voice.

  “I’m going if you’re going,” Manny says, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to be wrestling any moose without me.”

  Elle smiles faintly.

  “Manny!” Arlene exclaims. “You don’t mean that.”