by Lane, Summer
“We’re the leaders. We’re dangerous,” Uriah says, simply.
I gasp, seeing a picture of Sophia Rodriguez in the right-hand corner. I want to cry, but I know better. It’s just that I’ve never seen a picture of Sophia before…I met her after the Collapse, and the image of her face has always been preserved only in my memory. Seeing her in a photo like this…it’s eerie.
“We’ll come back for this stuff,” I say. “We’ll come back for all of it.”
“Cassidy,” Vera says. She points to another section of the wall. There is a map of Camp Freedom on it, along with names of militia leaders on the wall, mug shots arranged on a bulletin board, the pictures connected with red string. I see Commander Jones, Lieutenant Devin May, Lieutenant Vera Wright, and at the very top of the tree…my father.
Chapter Ten
Frank Hart. My father. His picture is an old snapshot from years ago – something that was stored away on a computer, in the digital cloud. He is wearing a gray T-shirt and a wide-brimmed sun hat. And the weird thing is that I’m sitting right next to him, maybe eight years old, my red hair long and wild, my hands covered in wet sand. We’re at the beach, and what makes it more bizarre than anything else is the fact that nobody on this planet has seen this picture except for me.
How did Omega get this?
“My dad is dead,” I say quietly. “Why are they still tracking him?”
“They’re keeping tabs on all of the big militia leaders,” Uriah replies, tense. “They may not know that he was killed in action in Sacramento.”
I flinch when he says that. I don’t like to talk about my dad like he’s dead.
I like to talk about him like he’s on some long vacation that he’ll return from, when all of this crap is over. When the war is done and we’ve won and Omega is nothing more than a pile of rubble and ashes.
“How did they get this picture?” I say. “It was on a computer.”
“I think it’s fairly safe to assume that Omega can extract anything from anywhere,” he replies.
“Yankee Leader,” Cheng’s voice crackles in my earpiece. “We’re lighting them up. Make your move!”
I can hear the strain in his voice, and I know that we need to move.
“Let’s roll out, guys,” I say. “Stay tight and improvise.”
We rush out the door to the compound, entering the gravel yard between the building and the concrete wall. The roar of gunfire is much louder out here. It pulls my head away from the puzzle of Omega’s strategy room, their intense observation of my friends and I. I focus on the task at hand and everything else washes away.
We gather at the corner of the compound entrance. I nod at Uriah. He and ten of the men from the Angels of Death bust the gate open and storm outside in a solid wave, a sharp wall of bullets preceding them. I count under my breath and then yell, “Go, go, go!” And I bring the tail end of the platoon behind him with Father Kareem. We punch a hole through Uriah’s line up like an arrowhead.
The base around us is fairly simple. Artificial streetlights illuminate a long road leading away from the compound and the visitor center. Every single Omega soldier on the base is out in full force, ebbing around the compound. A good chunk of them are engaged in a gunfight on the edge of camp – Cheng and Elle’s detachment. Good. That leaves us a force of maybe seventy men out here.
The snipers on top of the roof of the compound have driven the Omega troops behind cover, so when we emerge, we’re able to get to cover, too. I roll behind a parked Omega truck. Bullets pepper the side of the door as I crouch low, catching my breath.
“They are nearly in our grasp,” Father Kareem says, breathing hard. “Lieutenant True can take the right, I’ll take the left, and you take the center.”
I look around us. In the dusky twilight, I feel like we’re fighting in some in-between world, some purgatory of light and dark. Before us, there is a looped roadway that reconnects to the Glacier Spur Road, as the sign indicates. To the right, Omega troops are hiding behind two buildings, taking potshots across the asphalt. Uriah and his men are holding them off. To the left, more Omega troopers are staked out behind the temporary housing buildings. And directly in front of us, inside the loop, a smaller detachment of men are taking cover behind two vehicles.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll cover you. Go.”
Father Kareem shouts some orders at the Mad Monks in his wake and they break cover, heading to the left. I take some shots at the temporary buildings, giving Father Kareem time to reach a reasonable distance to start firing.
They clear the space, no problem.
“Okay,” I say. I turn to Vera, who is waiting beside Andrew. “Center. Here we go.”
“Yippi-kay-yay –” Andrew begins.
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Vera deadpans. “Let’s go.”
So we do. We break, cover, too, and fire on the Omega troopers hiding behind the vehicles. They are vicious in their barrage of gunfire. I figure that I’m on a streak of using grenades today, so I pop one more and chuck it beneath the first truck they’re hiding behind. The explosion bounces the vehicles and sends bits of hot metal and glass in all directions. My ears start ringing again, but I ignore it. We edge closer to the vehicles. The Omega troopers behind it are dead or dying. I see a bloody arm on the ground and a dead man lying beside it – his foot is also gone.
Beside him, there are two more dead Omega troopers. Dark, thick blood is pouring everywhere from their destroyed limbs. I look away, feeling sick, and keep moving. Because that is what good soldiers do – they keep going, even when the carnage is almost too much to handle.
The troopers beside them, behind the second vehicle, are scrambling for their weapons and their balance, stunned by the close proximity of the grenade detonation. I can see the sheer panic in their faces as we swoop around the corner, armed and ready to kill.
And we do kill them, swift Angels of Death, true to our name.
Every single one of the Omega soldiers in the center loop of the road is dead, and we are standing over their broken, dead bodies. I see Uriah moving in on the right, and Father Kareem sweeping the troops on the left. It occurs to me then, in a split second, that we are going to win this thing. That even without air support, we have still dominated our enemy. The element of surprise has been our greatest ally, and I feel a rush of grim pride.
We are the last fighters. We are fear itself.
“Cassidy, on your left!” Andrew yells.
I automatically duck right, and a bullet narrowly misses my skull. A lone Omega trooper, covered in blood, is taking wild shots from the end of the loop. He squeezes his trigger and holds tight, sending a tidal wave of gunfire through the air. Vera grabs my arm and shoves me aside, and the bullets miss both of us. We collapse on the ground in a tangled heap, her face sweaty and her hair hanging in greasy strands.
“Thanks,” I say, quickly.
She rolls to her feet.
“Yeah, you got it,” she replies.
I almost smile. Because somehow, despite our bickering and the shaky start Vera and I got off to so long ago, we have become strong allies in this fight against Omega.
The thunder of the fight rolls on, and as we clear out the base, we move toward Cheng and Elle’s detachment, where they are bravely drawing Omega’s fire. We come behind them in an arc, circling and striking quickly and efficiently.
Before long, they have fallen, too. I tap the visor and read the thermal signature map. I can see the signatures of my men, but there is a group of six bodies moving away from camp, up the trail, toward the Mendenhall Glacier.
Cheng breaks out of the foliage, breathless, his forehead streaked with blood, grasping Bravo’s leash. The dog is wild-eyed and growling low, clearly agitated.
“They took Elle,” he says.
“They took a hostage?” Vera gawks, unbelieving. “They’re insane. We’ll kill them.”
My mind races. Elle – taken? I pull my balaclava off and wipe the thick layer of sweat t
hat has accumulated on my face.
“We’ll follow the thermal signatures,” I say. “We can catch them before they get too far.”
“I won’t let them hurt her,” Cheng tells me, his voice level.
“None of us will,” I reply. “Vera? Stay with the men down here. Andrew, Cheng, you’re with me.” I look at Father Kareem. “Coming?”
A slight smile touches his face.
“I would delight in the challenge,” he says.
“Sundog,” I say into the radio. “Get your hostages wrapped up. The base is ours, but the communications island is still up for grabs.”
I look across the water, toward the odd outcropping of land just beyond the compound, jutting into the icy lake. I can see the Omega aircraft lifting from the island, whisking their intelligence advisors and communications workers away.
I grit my teeth.
If we had air support right now, none of this would be happening. Every single person the communications island would be our prisoner right now.
Focus, Cassie. Get Elle. Then move on.
I feel a sharp spike of fear, afraid of losing Elle. That girl is special, and she’s become a close friend. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to her. I don’t want to lose anybody else that I care about.
So Andrew, Cheng, and Father Kareem follow me into the trail. Bravo runs ahead of Cheng, occasionally stopping to pick up the scent trail. It’s amazing, really – what we need advanced technology and thermal tracking to do, he can do with his nose.
We rush through the trail, every second taking Elle further and further away from us. I will not allow Omega to use her as a bargaining chip. If they’ve been monitoring us as closely as I think they have, then they will know that I will not allow Elle to die. Which makes her a valuable hostage – they can twist my arm if they have Elle.
They know it. I know it. And I’m going to stop them.
We run through the trees, popping out into a clearing. I can see the small detachment of escaping Omega soldiers in the distance – a blot of shadows moving across the rock. They scramble over a frozen waterfall, and then disappear into the icy depths of the towering glacier.
Their heat signatures vanish.
I take the visor off and toss it to the ground.
“Bravo can take it from here,” I tell Cheng. “Let him work.”
Cheng nods, understanding. The glacier is even bigger up close. It looms above our heads like a dark ice castle, full of cracks and crevices that would make even the most experienced climber cringe.
We move swiftly over rocks and gravelly terrain. Andrew slips once, but Father Kareem catches him. I tell myself that this will end well – that Elle will be unharmed, and that we will all return to Mendenhall Base victorious.
I skid to a halt at the side of the glacier. It is so massive – so incredible – that I can only stop and stare for a moment, amazed. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, alien and beautiful all at once.
“We gotta go in there?” Andrew says, his voice sharp.
“Yeah,” I reply.
Bravo tugs on his leash, desperate to keep moving, to keep tracking. His ears are flattened against his head, his fur stands on end. His dark eyes flash and I know that he is feeling the pressure of this battle just as much as we are.
By the time we actually reach the glacier itself, my legs are burning, muscles straining from pushing myself faster and faster, from climbing across rocks. When I look behind me, I see just how much distance we’ve covered – Mendenhall Base is a smudge in the distance.
Cheng says, “We have to go inside. There’s no other way.”
I look at the massive chunk of ice. Will it cave in on us? Will we be buried in the ice forever, our dead bodies preserved in the barren wilderness for centuries?
“Let’s do this,” I say. “But we’re doing it the right way. Bravo leads – he clears the trail ahead of us, and then we follow. Keep your head down and open your eyes – they might be hiding right inside the cave, waiting to ambush us.”
Cheng nods, and Andrew clicks a new magazine into his gun. Cheng gives Bravo the go-ahead and the dog slowly begins moving forward, sniffing the ground, moving across the gray and slick moonscape terrain, edging closer to the actual ice itself. He keeps moving, so we follow. I know that Bravo will be able to sense any weak spots or danger ahead – his senses are far more reliable than ours.
The ice is hard as a rock beneath my boots. Here, near the bottom, it is almost black, covered in a layer of dirt and gravel. We climb up the sloping glacier and reach the surface, where miles of frozen, blue waves stretch through the mountains.
Gorgeous. But I don’t have time to admire the view. Maintaining my balance on the slick ice is difficult, and I stumble and fall several times. I wish that I had thought to bring some ice shoes or crampons; no such luck, though. We move forward, and then I slip again. But instead of just hitting the ground, the ice crumbles beneath my feet and I fall straight down. The air rushes out of my lungs as I realize that I have stepped into a hidden crevice in the ice. I twist and jam my leg against the glacier, wedging my back against the other edge. I stop falling, coming to a screeching halt, wedged between two walls of ice.
I look up, and I see Cheng, Andrew and Father Kareem peering down at me, maybe twenty feet above my head.
“Cassidy!” Andrew says. “Don’t move, we’ll pull you up!”
“With what?” I call back.
“Um, rope!”
My leg hurts. It pulses with aching pain, and I worry that I have broken it. I hope not – that would put a serious damper on my day. Several moments pass, and then Cheng and Andrew toss a rope to me. It lands just a few inches away. I lean forward and wrap the rope around my wrist, then sling it under my left arm. I brace myself against it.
“Ready?” I say.
“Ready,” Cheng replies. “Hold on tight.”
I grip the rope with all the strength that I have as they pull me up. I slowly move upward, and as I do, I dare a glance beneath me. Below, all I can see is black nothingness and the fresh scent of snow. I shudder and look up.
I was one second away from being buried alive.
When I reach the top, Father Kareem grabs my shoulders and pulls me onto the glacier again. I lay on my back, breathing hard, panting. My leg is throbbing. I sit up and look at it. I don’t think it’s broken; just sore and bloody from being used as an emergency brake.
“You okay?” Andrew asks, kneeling beside me.
“Yeah, just bruised,” I reply. “This ice is dangerous.”
“Yeah.” He checks my leg. “You’re scraped – maybe a little sprained. Can you walk?”
I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet. I test my weight on my leg. It hurts, but it’s not unbearable. I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine.
“I’m good,” I say. “Let’s keep moving.”
So we do. We trek across the ice for what seems like an eternity before Bravo veers off course, a low growl rising in his throat. I follow his line of sight to the corner of the glacier, where a small piece of the ice juts into the mountains. At the very bottom of the seam, there is a small hole that tunnels inside the glacier.
The entrance to the ice caves.
Bravo approaches first. He clears it for us, and then we walk up to the cave, sharing concerned glances with each other. It’s tiny – barely big enough for a full-sized person, let alone six Omega troopers and one hostage. They must have gone in single file.
“Cheng,” I say. “You first.”
He nods, and he ducks down under the ice with Bravo. I follow, with Andrew behind me and Father Kareem bringing up the rear. I flick the flashlight of my rifle on as the tunnel of ice closes in around us. Complex walls of clear blue ice encapsulate us as we move. I tell myself not to be claustrophobic, but it’s a little difficult to forget that we are tunneling beneath tons of melting, shifting ice.
Sounds fun, right? I think. Chris would be loving this.
The ice around us is freezing cold, but the air coming from within the caves smells oddly stale – like it’s been circulating for thousands of years. And hey, it probably has.
We move quickly but cautiously, listening for the sounds of the Omega soldiers ahead of us, leery of every corner. We don’t speak if we can help it, controlling our breathing. In several places, the cave gets smaller and smaller. We have to get down on all fours to squeeze through.
At last, we come to a large, open area in the cave. I stand upright, thankful for the headspace. Bravo growls again. He pulls Cheng toward the corner of the ice room. A tunnel curves away from here, into the very heart of the glacier, wide and tall.
“Set up a marker,” I tell Andrew. “We don’t want to get lost in here.”
Andrew nods and kneels to the ground, stacking a cairn with the loose rocks in the cave. I beam my flashlight back toward Bravo. His eyes glow in the light, and he looks like he’s ready to take a bite out of somebody’s arm.
We keep going, moving down the large tunnel to the left, picking our way through rocks and loose gravel. Every so often, Andrew stops and stacks another cairn, making sure to mark our progress through this twisting, disorienting world of frozen water.
Bam!
A gunshot echoes through the cavern, and a bullet wedges itself into the ice right beside Cheng’s head. He immediately hits the ground, as we all do. I flick my flashlight off. Ahead of us, there is another opening into an air pocket in the ice. I see the briefest flicker of shadowy movement up ahead, and then there is suffocating silence again.
My heart races, my hands sweat.
It’s us against them in this darkness. We have to be smart. In this kind of terrain, there’s no good way to tell where we’re actually shooting – and whether or not we’re accidentally shooting at Elle.
And then a voice cuts through the silence: “RUN, GO BACK!”
It’s Elle’s voice. I immediately gauge the distance between me and her voice, and I decide to take the chance. I surge forward, following the wall, and skid into the empty room. I see shadows at the far end, and just as I’m raising my rifle into my shoulder, Bravo streaks past me, a bullet in the darkness. His growl is vicious, and unlike me, he is not handicapped by the lack of lighting here.
