by Summer Lane
“Of course.”
“They’re all I have left. All three of you. You’re it.”
“And you’re all I have.” I tuck my loose hair behind my ear. “I love you.”
I lean forward and kiss him, my nose pressed against the warmth of his skin, my lips tasting the coffee on his breath. He slides his hand behind my head and pulls me closer. I press my hands against his shoulders, grasping him tightly, as if I’m hanging on for dear life.
And perhaps I am.
“It’s not goodbye, anyway,” Chris says, gently, against my cheek. “It’s just…see you later.”
I nod, fighting the heaving sob threatening to spill out of my chest.
“See you later,” I echo.
He kisses me again. One last time. I pull away, looking into his eyes, nose to nose, a tear slipping down my face. He brushes it away with his finger.
I straighten my shoulders, resolute.
If I delay any further, I won’t go. I’ll lose my will.
I grab my gear, pull my scarf over my face, and open the Humvee door. The air is frigid and powerful. I walk around the front of the Humvee. Chris exits the vehicle and stands there, one boot on the running board, the intensity of his gaze searing.
“See you later,” I whisper again.
He nods.
I turn away. I walk toward the planes.
I do not look back.
***
The plane that will take my comrades and me to Alaska is different than the rumbling, powerful cargo plane hauling the troops over state lines. Ours is a private plane, one that might have belonged to Arlene and Sky City once upon a time. A small, comfortable bird with plenty of room for my fellow militia leaders and guards.
I climb the steps, the wind whipping stray strands of hair into circles, and duck inside. It’s warm and still. I set my gear down, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.
“Sure you don’t want to fly in the cockpit with me?” Manny asks.
His voice is quiet – halfhearted. He sits in the middle row of seats, his legs splayed apart, his hair hidden beneath a red bandana and a flight cap. His worn leather jacket is buttoned up, and a black scarf hangs around his neck.
“You know I’m not a big fan of flying,” I say.
“Hmm. As I recall, I cured you of your fear of heights.”
I cross my arms.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Manny cracks a wry grin.
“Of course. I’m always okay.” He folds his hands together. “It has merely dawned on me, my girl, that this separation…what we’re doing here today…it will change everything. It means we’re finally getting out of this hellhole. It means we might actually have some safety.”
I lean against one of the leather seats.
“Manny,” I say. “Convince Arlene to come with us. She’s your wife. You love her. You don’t have to leave without her. It’s not a necessary sacrifice.”
He looks up at me, his smile gone, his eyes bloodshot and weary.
“Isn’t it, though?” he replies, standing up. I see him slip a metal flask back into his pocket, and I smell the faint stench of alcohol on his breath. “She’s lied to me since the beginning. Since before the beginning, actually.” He releases a harsh laugh. “Her loyalty to Sky City and the militias has always taken priority over me. Always.”
I tilt my head, wondering how someone like Arlene and someone like Manny ended up together in the first place: a cool and cunning woman and a wild-eyed, passionate pilot with a taste for whiskey.
“If you love her,” I tell him, “you should stay here with her.”
Manny takes a step forward, then sinks back into the seat again.
“No,” he sighs. “Not this time. I’ve always functioned very well on my own. We’re independent creatures, Arlene and me. Like two old horses in a pasture. We stick to our own grass and when we cross paths, we nuzzle a little and then go our separate ways again.” He winks at me. “Going to Yukon City doesn’t mean I don’t love the woman, my girl. It just means we’re going our separate ways this time. Maybe for the last time. I don’t know.”
He looks sad. I don’t know how he can stand it.
Or maybe I do.
Chris’s still, solemn face flashes through my head.
We do what we must to protect the people we love.
“I understand,” I say. “Leaving Chris is hard for me, too.”
“Ah, you’ll be back together again in no time,” Manny grins. “You always are.”
I sit down.
“Yeah,” I say. “You’re right about that.”
“Arlene and I have been different from the start,” he goes on, absent, rambling. “When we were young, there was nothing that could stop her from getting what she wanted. Nothing.” He laughs. “And I was just a pilot. All I wanted to do was fly. Fly to the moon and back and take her with me.” He shakes his head. “It was a good dream, Cassidy. A good dream.” He leans forward, bowing his head. “And the dream is over, now. It died when the world died.”
A long, impossible silence stretches between us.
“Ready to go?” Elle announces, stepping inside the plane, Bravo at her side.
Manny snaps up, all traces of sorrow and broken dreams erased from his face. His dark, wrinkled face turns into a smile.
“Ready, willing and able!” Manny exclaims.
Elle’s pale cheeks are rosy and pinched. Cheng follows closely behind her, a dark shadow. “I don’t like flying,” Cheng mutters.
“Hmm,” Manny replies. “That’s so sad.”
“I sense unbridled sarcasm, old man,” Cheng says, rolling his eyes.
“First of all, I am not old,” Manny replies. “I am aged, like a fine wine. I’ve said that before and I mean it. And second, by the time we’re done, you’ll love flying as much as I do.” He jerks his thumb at me. “Ask her. I cured her of her fear.”
“Not entirely.” I grin, remembering how we crashed a helicopter in Los Angeles. How we fell from the sky, burning, and nearly died. How I survived a HALO jump from twenty thousand feet into the frigid mountains.
So, yeah. Flying is not on my list of top ten things to do for leisure.
Mrs. Young steps into the cabin, her graying hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She is bundled in a big jacket and boots. Isabel is clutching her arm, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Hey,” I say.
I haven’t spoken to either of them since our arrival at Sector 27.
“Cassidy,” Mrs. Young – Margaret – replies. “We’re coming with you.”
She steps forward and folds me into a hug.
“It’s not permanent,” she whispers into my ear. “Chris loves you too much.”
I smile, sad.
“I know he does,” I answer. “Don’t worry, this is a good move for us.”
Vera and Andrew enter the cabin, their boots thumping on the stairs.
“I think I’m going to be really annoyed with you,” Vera hisses, stalking toward the back of the plane, brushing past us, plopping down on a seat, looking angrily at Andrew. “Don’t sit next to me.”
Andrew swallows, pale.
“I suggested that we should maybe stay behind instead of going to Yukon City,” he tells me in a low voice.
“Not happening!” Vera snaps.
I shake my head.
“Well, you two lovebirds need to work it out, because I’m not going to listen to you fight the whole flight north,” I say, firmly. “Don’t make this my problem.”
“Nobody asked you, Doctor Phil,” Vera huffs.
I shake my head. Elle and Cheng have settled into seats toward the front. I bend down and stroke the fur on Bravo’s head. His deep, wise eyes smile at mine.
“How’s your dog?” I ask Elle. “Does he ever get tired of this?”
“Of the war?” Elle shrugs. “No. He’s a military working dog. This is what he does.”
I am still kneeling next to Bravo when Uriah enters the plane.
“Bonding with the dog?” Uriah asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “He likes me.”
“He likes everyone.”
“Not everyone,” Elle mutters.
Uriah takes a seat apart from everyone else. Andrew and Vera are talking in tense, hushed tones in the back of the cabin. Manny looks out the window. I see Arlene standing at the edge of the tarmac, staring at the plane. Chris is nearby, doing the same thing.
I look away and sit down. The door closes and seals, eliminating the outside noise.
“We’ll be back,” Elle tells me, smiling tightly. “This isn’t the end. Not yet.”
“Not yet,” I reply.
Manny sidles into the cockpit and checks things one final time. According to our plan, we will arrive at the Way Station in Alaska in six or seven hours. Only Manny knows the location. In fact, the pilots are the only ones who know where the coordinates for the first Way Station is.
It makes it harder for Omega traitors who may have infiltrated our ranks to turn this information in to their superiors. But I’m hoping that our traitors are long gone. What remains of the California militias is small but powerful – bound together by blood and tragedy and loss.
Our numbers have changed, but our resolve has only gotten stronger.
“What if we get to Yukon City and nobody is there?” Elle asks me, biting her lip. “I mean, what if they’re gone or destroyed? We have no way of knowing until we get there, right?”
“I guess not.”
“Then we will have gone all that way for nothing.”
“That’s not true. We have to try.”
She considers this.
“So if there are people there, and they do want to volunteer to help fight Omega,” she says, “then we bring them back with us to California? Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“And if they don’t want to come?”
“Then we look somewhere else.”
“But what about weapons? Arlene keeps saying that they’ve got weapons we can use. What kind of weapons do you think she’s talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I say. But it’s a lie. I have an inkling.
It strikes me in this moment that if we fail in our mission, we may be forced to go elsewhere to look for recruits.
“Would we go to the East Coast?” Elle asks. “Or would we leave the country altogether?”
“I don’t know,” I say, honestly. “None of us know what the rest of the world looks like right now. Maybe it’s just North America that’s at war. Maybe we can find more allies that can help us.”
The words leave my mouth, but I’m not entirely sure that I believe them.
I have a gut feeling that the rest of the world is just as embroiled in this apocalypse as we are. It only makes our situation more desperate…more terrifying.
“I don’t care where we go,” Vera comments from behind me. “I just want to get out of this godforsaken state. I’m so sick of California. The same fight, over and over again. The death and the destruction. I want to put it behind me.”
I sit down, my eyes drawn to the window once again.
Neither Arlene nor Chris have moved.
“California is a terrible thing to lose,” Elle whispers. She leans her head against Cheng’s shoulder. He props his boot up on the chair in front of him, pensive.
“I’m never coming back here,” Vera says. “Never.”
I hear the acidity in her voice, and I understand her bitterness, her sorrow. This state holds more sadness for me than happiness, now. At first, when we were fighting against Omega, it was a battle for our homes – for our families. Now, our families are gone and our memories are tarnished with visions of slaughtered men, women and children. We’ve lost our connection to what makes us normal and civilized. The climate of war and rebellion is a constant.
“What if the militias need you to fight here again?” I ask her, quietly. “If we find reinforcements, I’ll need you to come back here with me and help lead them.”
“Then that’s too bad. I’ve paid my dues. I’ve fought.”
“The war isn’t over yet, Vera. Not by a long shot.”
“Believe me, I know.”
I turn around and face her. Her arms are folded over her chest; her eyes are flashing.
“You wouldn’t leave me to fight alone,” I say. “I know you wouldn’t.”
Vera shakes her head and stares out the window.
She doesn’t answer.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Elle exclaims suddenly. “Arlene wanted me to give this to you.”
She unzips her backpack and pulls a blank manila envelope out. She hands it to me. I set it in my lap, puzzled. “What is this?” I ask.
“Don’t know. She just said to give it to you.” Elle shrugs.
I flip it over, tracing my finger along the curve of the seal.
Outside, Arlene has turned her back on the tarmac, finally retreating to the convoy. Chris remains still, never taking his eyes off our plane.
I open the envelope. There are three sheets of paper. The first one reads:
Destroy After Reading
I frown, looking at the next page:
Cassidy,
Here is the information on the nuclear weapons. Other than myself, only five militia leaders know about this. Chris is one of those five, as I’m sure you have discovered already. My request to you is simple: use this knowledge wisely. If it falls into the wrong hands, it could destroy everything – the whole world, actually. Don’t take that lightly.
Many nuclear weapons have gone missing or were seized by Omega during the first wave of the invasion, shortly after the EMP. However, shortly before the Collapse, several of our own who, for the purpose of protecting their identities, shall not be named, relocated the nuclear warheads on the West Coast for safekeeping, to protect them from falling into the enemy’s hands.
The remaining warheads are our last line of defense against a total Omega takeover. And I do mean last, Cassidy. They have bombed us, but returning fire could result in total nuclear annihilation.
Memorize the locations listed, and destroy this information when you are done.
I pray that Yukon City is everything we hope it is. Our survival depends on it.
- Arlene
I slip the last page on top.
CLASSIFIED
Location of remaining nuclear warheads is as follows:
Mexico City, Mexico (PNWA Stronghold)
Area 51, Nevada
Phoenix, Arizona
Seattle (Destroyed, Omega nuclear attack)
Alaska (Location Unknown)
The list goes on, naming cities and towns across the United States and the entire North American continent. Many of them are labeled as “missing” or “destroyed.”
How do you destroy a nuclear warhead? I think, raising an eyebrow.
You don’t, not really. You can disarm it, but other than that…
My mind works quickly. Having a huge nuclear arsenal at our disposal could change the tide of the war. Maybe if Omega knew that we were capable of returning fiery destruction straight to their front door, we’d have a chance at survival.
Or maybe…it would do exactly what Arlene said:
Nuclear annihilation.
Besides, where would we even send the warheads? We don’t even know where Omega is based.
“What’d she write to you?” Vera asks from behind me.
I slide the papers back into the envelope.
“It’s personal,” I say.
I seal it.
Manny yells, “Everybody buckle their seatbelts and hang on. We’re about to fly away from the Golden State!”
He laughs manically.
I wonder how he does it – how he detaches himself from the tragedy of leaving Arlene and finds it within himself to grin and laugh.
The plane rumbles to life. I grip the envelope and look out the window. I can see Chris, arms folded across his broad chest, his eyes hidden beh
ind black shooting glasses. What is he thinking right now? What am I thinking?
I love you. I love you so much. I’ll see you. Soon.
The plane rolls forward, bouncing slightly with every roll on the tarmac. The plane turns, and Manny begins coasting. I hear him talking into the radio, occasionally throwing comments back into the cabin. I don’t pay attention. I can’t stop watching Chris.
I don’t want to look away.
The plane picks up speed. The asphalt and the desert turn into a blur as the plane lifts off the ground. My throat drops into my stomach as we ascend, higher, higher, the desert floor becoming a distant speck.
Goodbye, California. I fought for you. I gave you everything I had.
I close my eyes and lean my head against the seat, praying under my breath that everybody will make it to the Way Station in one piece.
Chapter Three
Three hours into the flight, I look out the window. All I can see is a blanket of black, angry clouds. They cover the sky like a quilt, blocking the earth from view. Here, the sun is shining, pure and bright, casting brilliant golden light across the blackness.
“It’s so beautiful!” Elle exclaims.
I stand up, Arlene’s envelope tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket, and walk to the pilot’s cockpit. Manny is sitting with his headset on.
“Ah, finally break down and come to beg me to teach you to fly?” he asks, grinning.
“Let me think,” I say. “Oh wait. That would be a no.”
“You’ve disappointed me, my girl.”
“Sorry. I’m just a bundle of disappointments today.” I sit in the empty co-pilot’s seat. The control panel is complicated but, like everything else in life, I’m sure I could learn to fly with practice.
“Where are we right now?” I ask.
“Ah, that would be the sky,” Manny quips.
“Ha. Ha.”
He adjusts his headset. “We’re right over Washington.”
My heart sinks.
Washington was hit hard with a nuclear bomb. Beneath the clouds, I can only imagine the blackened devastation of the earth’s crust. I am glad that we can’t see all the way to the ground.
“How much longer until we get there?” I ask.
“Well, little girl, we’ll get there when we get there.” He laughs at his own joke. “Around five hours. Maybe more. Maybe less. Depends on whether or not we encounter any trouble.”