Collapse Series (Book 8): State of Fear (

by Lane, Summer

  Manny says nothing. I see a spark of anger in his eyes – and hurt. I know he is angry with Arlene. His wife has kept secrets from him for too long – secrets about Sky City, secrets about nuclear warheads at the disposal of the militias, and now secrets about a safe colony in Alaska.

  He is done. He is as frustrated as I am.

  I look around the room. A few of the commanders raise their hands, announcing their decision to relocate to Alaska, as well. The drama unfolds before my eyes, and I realize something…we are breaking up. Our little militia, our group of leaders.

  Our coalition is not growing…it’s falling apart.

  That knowledge scares me, but somehow I realize that it is a necessary evolution.

  I am done with this madness.

  “And what about the eight thousand men who are living in this base?” Chris asks angrily. “Do they get a choice in this?”

  “We’ll present the information to the entire militia,” I say firmly. “And they can decide what they want to do. If they want to remain here under your command, or if they want to relocate to Alaska.”

  Chris’s green eyes flicker.

  “And what if they all decide to stay here, Commander Hart?” he asks.

  “Then I guess I’ll be going to Alaska by myself.”

  My words are sharp, and I look away from Chris. I slide my hands off the table and fold them on my lap. I don’t want anyone to see how badly they are shaking.

  Arlene is standing at the head of the table, seemingly shocked into silence by Manny and Elle’s declaration of departure. After several long minutes, the conversation dies down, and there is quiet once again.

  “Tell us where it is,” I command Arlene. “Tell us everything you know.”

  ***

  The survivor colony in Alaska is called Yukon City. It is located on a secluded peninsula called Whittier, a place bathed in fog and rain, based on the pictures that Arlene is flipping through in her slideshow.

  “The colony is mostly comprised of refugees, but there is a fairly powerful para-military presence there to protect it,” Arlene says. “The city itself is almost like an island. It’s surrounded by mountains on all sides, and flanked by the ocean. The only way to access it is to take a ferry from the mainland, or to fly in.” She absently brushes back her wispy gray hair. She continues, “During World War Two, the United States established a secret military defense base there: Camp Sullivan. It was small, but it was well-hidden. Whittier itself still is well hidden, as a matter of fact, which is why the colony was established there.”

  “Sounds secluded,” Chris remarks. “Population?”

  “Several thousand. Many survivors who fled the big Alaskan cities like Anchorage or Juneau came here. There is a two-and-a-half-mile tunnel that cuts through the mountains – the only way to reach Whittier from the rest of the state. In fact, it’s the longest highway tunnel in the world. It’s heavily guarded by militia units and the Alaskan National Guard.”

  “What’s the leadership like in Whittier?” Vera says.

  “They have an elected president, as well as a senate.”

  “Who is the president?” I ask.

  “A woman named Mauve Bacardi,” Arlene replies. “She was a senator for Alaska before the Collapse. The people naturally gravitated toward electing her – she has a way with words, and the survivors love her.”

  “Can she be trusted?” Manny asks.

  Arlene doesn’t look at him as she answers, “I should hope so.”

  Chris never removes his gaze from the projected images on the wall, his back tense and straight, his shoulders squared.

  “Yukon City is the biggest survivor colony that we know of,” Arlene goes on. “Intel for the militias has suggested that there are thousands of different colonies around the country, but the Alaskan camp is the largest – as well as the safest. Mostly because of the nuclear fallout – people want to be safe. They want to breathe fresh air, and people have been flocking to Whittier ever since Omega dropped the first nuclear bomb.”

  Elle strokes Bravo’s head, smiling wistfully.

  I wonder if she is thinking what I am thinking:

  How nice would it be to walk outside and not be afraid of the air?

  “What about the Pacific Northwest Alliance?” Chris says suddenly. “Have they played a part in this survivor’s colony?”

  “They have,” Arlene confirms. “Commander Young, there is much information about the surviving members of this Collapse, and most of it is shrouded in secrecy, if only to protect the information from leaking to traitors in our own ranks.”

  Somehow, this cools the embers of my anger a bit.

  We have had many traitors infiltrate our ranks. Perhaps keeping this information really was the wisest decision Arlene and her peers made. Perhaps it has protected Yukon City all of this time.

  “How do you stay in contact with the colony?” I ask.

  “We don’t,” Arlene says. “We protect Yukon by cutting them off, to put it simply. Their location and existence is untraceable to the enemy. We would only communicate with them directly in a matter of dire circumstances.”

  I bite my lip.

  By going to Yukon City I will be completely cut off from California. From Chris.

  Is this what I really want to do?

  Yes. We need this.

  “Yukon City has many secrets,” Arlene goes on, turning to face the room. “I can’t reveal all of them here….President Bacardi will enlighten you once you arrive. However, you should know that by going to Alaska, you will not be there to rest and relax. You will be there to search for additional recruits or weaponry that can aid in our fight against Omega. You know that we are in desperate need of both.”

  “How will they know we’re coming if we have no communication with them?” Vera asks, rolling her eyes. “Hello. That’s stupid.”

  “One of our aircraft will drop a message to alert them that you are on your way,” Arlene explains. “You’ll be dropped just on the other side of the mountains – and you’ll take a convoy through the tunnel to reach Whittier.”

  “Who’s the commanding officer in Yukon City?” I ask.

  “Another woman, Lieutenant Em Davis, now the militia commander for Yukon.”

  “The forces that volunteer to stay behind will remain to guard the West Coast from further invasion,” Chris says. “Meanwhile, I expect you to either find more forces in Alaska or seize weaponry that can help us in this fight.” He looks at me as he says this. “This is a mission. We need weapons or troops – or both. Whatever we can find. Are we clear, Commander Hart?”

  “We’re clear,” I say.

  He nods.

  “Let’s present the information to the troops, then,” Andrew suggests. “Might as well get this out in the open.”

  I agree.

  The secret is out.

  ***

  In the end, the militia stays with Chris. I will be taking a detachment of thirty men into Alaska. We will look for reinforcements and check out the colony, making sure that Yukon City actually exists.

  And Chris will remain in California, despite the odds stacked against him.

  I know it. He knows it.

  Yet he is resolute and stubborn in his determination to remain here, to keep fighting.

  I look down at a map of Alaska on the meeting table. It is just Arlene and me. She sits in a chair, her fingers in a steeple, her brow knit.

  “You’re coming, right?” I ask.

  “To Yukon City?” she replies. “No. I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Why not? Manny is going. Aren’t you going to –”

  “Cassidy, there’s more at stake here than just California. It’s the survival of the rebellion on the West Coast. I have been in this fight since the beginning. I will see it through to the end – whatever that end may be.”

  “But what about Manny?” I ask. “And Elle?”

  Arlene’s expression doesn’t flicker. It is stone.

  “They will
be okay without me.”

  I roll the map up.

  “I don’t like this division,” I mutter.

  “No one does. But it’s necessary.” Arlene sighs. “If we fall here in California, we will come to Yukon City. It will be a refuge for us. It will be a place to preserve what’s left of us.”

  A cold shudder runs through my body.

  “We won’t go extinct,” I say.

  But that’s a lie. So many things about our old civilization are already extinct.

  There is no going back. Things will never be the same.

  “I wish you would have told me about Yukon City sooner,” I say. “Maybe we could have avoided the San Francisco fight.”

  “Maybe,” Arlene whispers. “Maybe not.”

  A thought occurs to me, then.

  “I want the specifics on the nuclear warheads that the Pacific Northwest Alliance had control of before Omega dropped the first bomb,” I tell her. “And that’s not a request, Arlene. That’s an order.”

  She looks up at me, eyes weary and red.

  “Yes,” she says quietly. “Whatever you want, Commander.”

  I tuck the map in a pocket inside of my jacket and head toward the door. I need to pack my belongings and get ready to depart.

  “This will change things,” Arlene says absently, thrumming her fingers on the table. “You leaving – it will change everything. Especially for Chris.”

  I open the door.

  “He’s a soldier,” I say, without turning back. “He’ll survive.”

  Arlene doesn’t respond.

  I don’t want her to.

  Chapter Two

  I sling my backpack and rifle over my shoulder, checking my appearance one last time in the mirror. Good to go. I leave my quarters and enter the wide, concrete hallways. Sector 27 is bursting with voices and energy. There are thirty of us heading to Alaska, the Angels of Death, worn but ready. I am one of them, and that knowledge thrills me as much as it frightens me.

  I am saying goodbye to the only home I have ever known.

  Farewell, California. We will meet again.

  I hope.

  I descend the stairwell and hit the main hall. Humvees and pickup trucks are rumbling. Some troops are already being taken to the airstrip. I stop dead in my tracks, staring at Uriah True. He is dressed in black, like me, his dark hair and eyes a shadow in the grayness of the bunker. His own backpack and rifle are slung across his broad shoulders.

  “You’re coming, then,” I state.

  “Yeah,” he replies. “I follow my commander wherever she goes.”

  Behind him, I see Elle with Bravo, and beside them, Cheng. The Asian boy is taller than her, and he has cut his overgrown, shaggy hair. He is talking in hushed tones with Elle, who occasionally nods and smiles.

  “Chris isn’t coming,” Uriah asks. It is a statement of fact, not a question.

  “It’s fine,” I reply. “We’ll be okay. We can do this.”

  “I know it will,” he says. “I just want to make sure you know it.”

  “We’ve all aged a hundred years,” I say suddenly. “Innocence is a thing of the past.” I shrug. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

  “It’s okay.” Uriah offers a slight smile. “You know I understand.”

  Yes, I know.

  “See you onboard,” I tell him.

  “You bet.”

  I keep walking, passing Elle, Bravo and Cheng. Vera and Andrew are standing near a pickup, their gear in place. Vera looks better than she did when we first arrived. She looks rested, peaceful.

  “Hey,” Vera says.

  I meet her blue eyes.

  “We’re going to make it,” she goes on, her lips curving upward. “This change is a good thing.”

  I stop several feet in front of her.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Maybe.”

  “You know, you’re a really good actress, because back in the meeting room you sounded like a fearless leader,” she snorts. “Seriously, Cassidy. Snap out of it. We’re all going to go to Yukon City, we’ll find weapons or whatever they’re hiding up there, and then we’ll come back for Chris. It’s cut and dried, simple. It’s not like it’s the end of the –”

  “The end of the world?” I interrupt. “That’s ironic.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Giving you a pep talk is impossible.”

  I step forward and pull Vera into a tight hug. She stiffens, then slowly raises her hand to my back, offering several comforting pats. I close my eyes.

  “We’re a team,” I whisper.

  I step away. She blinks – hard.

  “Okay, okay,” she grumbles. “I get it.”

  But Andrew is smiling.

  Elle, Bravo and Cheng approach the truck.

  “Is this our sweet ride?” Elle asks.

  “Yeah,” Andrew replies. “And for the love of God, please don’t make your dog sit on my lap this time. He smells.”

  “I’m crying crocodile tears, Lieutenant.”

  Elle swings her gear into the pickup bed, climbing into the backseat. Bravo follows her inside. Cheng assesses us.

  “I just want to say, Commander Hart,” he tells me, “that I think you are making the right decision.”

  “Thanks,” I deadpan.

  “You act as if my charming affirmations mean nothing to you. I’m wounded.” He places a hand over his heart, chuckling.

  “Shut up, idiot,” Elle growls from the truck. “Get in.”

  A lazy grin spreads across Cheng’s face. He gives me a sharp salute and climbs into the back seat. I shake my head. Cheng is a mystery – arrogant, charming and dangerous all at once. He might be the son of Veronica Klaus, but so far he has proven himself trustworthy. I still have my doubts, though.

  Vera and Andrew get in the car. Uriah slides into the last spot.

  “Where am I supposed to sit?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  Andrew gestures behind me and closes the door.

  I turn around. Chris is standing there, tall and silent.

  Andrew hits the accelerator and the pickup surges forward, into the long lineup of vehicles leaving the base.

  I face Chris.

  “I’ll drive you,” he says, simply.

  Of course.

  I follow him to a black Humvee idling at the corner of the base. I climb into the front passenger seat, throwing my gear into the backseat. Chris slides behind the wheel and spins the vehicle around, joining the end of the lineup.

  I stare straight ahead, quiet.

  Chris is wearing only a black shirt with his dark combat fatigues. The curves of his muscles press through the material. I absently touch the gold chain hanging around my neck, a gift from so long ago. An eternity, it seems.

  “Well,” I say. “You’re driving me.”

  “Yeah.” Chris clears his throat. His words are tight. We pull off the base, following the convoy through the open desert, racing at high speeds. The clouds are dark and ominous. “Here’s the thing, Cassidy. Yukon City is a good idea. It really is. And I’m glad you’re going. Arlene says they’ve got resources that we can tap into, and we need to explore that possibility.”

  I turn my head sharply.

  “You’re…glad?”

  “Things are bad here in California,” he continues. “Yukon City will need guidance and leadership from people who have been out in the war – who’ve seen what Omega does.”

  “And you don’t think the survivor colony knows anything about that?”

  “No. They’ve been there since the beginning, sheltered. They’ll need your help.”

  I consider this.

  “What if California completely falls, Chris?” I ask. “What then?”

  “Then I’ll join you in Alaska.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then I expect you to bring something to kick Omega’s butt in two months.”

  His words are matter-of-fact. Informational.

  “I’ll miss you,” I say, looking out the window, tears
filling my eyes.

  Silence.

  I feel Chris’s fingers touch mine. I grasp his hand, firmly. He looks at me. His sharp green eyes are glazed. “I’ll miss you, too,” he says.

  “We’ve always been together. All this time,” I reply.

  “Except when I was a prisoner of war.”

  “And I rescued you.”

  “Don’t forget that I rescued you first from the labor camp.”

  “How could I?” I laugh. “You’re my hero.”

  A sad, broken smile spreads across his face.

  “I like to think so,” he whispers.

  We drive, the rolling black clouds boiling above our heads, the thundering engines of the convoy rattling in our ears, and the fear of separation settling in our stomachs like a lead weight.

  “I’m sorry about what happened,” he goes on, quietly. “Our fight, I mean. I didn’t want to yell at you like that. I just…I just don’t want to see you leave. But I understand why we have to do this. This is an important mission.”

  I squeeze his fingers.

  “It will be okay,” I say.

  I feel like I’ve said that so much lately.

  “Arlene is staying here,” I continue. “Did you know that?”

  “I did.”

  “Her loyalty to the militias and their secrets have torn her and Manny apart.”

  Chris casts a sideways glance at me.

  “I know the feeling,” he says.

  I say nothing.

  We finally come to a halt at an airfield several miles away from Sector 27. It is long and open, trails of tarmacs leading in every direction. A cargo plane is being loaded with the detachment of men who are accompanying me to Alaska.

  “Two months for both of us,” I say, turning to Chris. “Promise me. Not a day longer.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “It’s a promise.” He looks at me, raising his hand to my cheek, brushing the skin softly with his calloused fingers. “But I expect you to come back here with reinforcements for me.”

  I smile faintly.

  “I know,” I say. “I’m going to try my best.”

  “I’m sending my mother and Isabel with you,” Chris tells me, his hand fisted on the steering wheel. “I want them to be safe.” He pauses. “You have to take care of them for me.”