Collapse Series (Book 8): State of Fear

by Summer Lane

  I consider this. I know she’s right…but I cannot get Chris’s voice out of my head.

  Think about what you’re shooting at before you pull the trigger. You can’t take back a bullet, Cassie. You gotta be sure.

  “Em,” I say, shaky. “Are you willing to take a step away from President Bacardi and Yukon City? Can you help us?”

  Em raises an eyebrow, and then, ever so slowly, a small smile touches her lips.

  “What are you asking me to do?” she says.

  “Pull the National Guard out of Whittier and station them here, in the occupied Mendenhall Base,” I tell her. “We’ve got hostages here, and seized weapons and intel. We can’t afford to lose this stronghold.”

  “And?” Em said.

  “You and your militia come with me back to California,” I continue. “You reinforce the Freedom Fighters, and you help us keep Omega off the coastline.”

  “I only have three hundred men in my militia,” she says.

  “Three hundred is great.”

  “Three hundred plus your force…that’s not enough to stop Omega.”

  “It is if we utilize the nuclear subs and the ballistic weaponry.” I look at Uriah. “Right?”

  He dips his head, solemn.

  “After we kick Omega out of California with the subs’ weapons,” I go on, swallowing, “we unite the militias around the country and form a strong front against any more attacks.”

  “What if Omega just nukes us all and washes their hands of us?” Manny points out.

  “They won’t. They want to use this country, not destroy it.” I level my gaze. “We have to show them that we mean business – that we will fight fire with fire if we have to. If Omega wanted California wiped off the map, they would have done it a long time ago.”

  If Uriah is right in his line of thinking, they’ll probably back off.

  And if they back off, that will be the first small victory that will lead to big ones.

  “So what are we doing, then?” Uriah asks.

  “We’re going back to Yukon City,” I reply. “We’re taking the subs down the coastline, and we’re launching the ballistic weapons at San Francisco, Monterey and Los Angeles, and every Omega stronghold in between.”

  “We can join up with the California militias in San Diego,” Em interjects, her voice trembling with excitement. “It’s a stronghold, now. We can depend on them.”

  “So you’re in?” I ask.

  She nods. “I’m all in.”

  I tap the holster on my belt.

  “Let’s do this,” I say.

  Chapter Twelve

  I sleep lightly on the top level of the compound, in an empty office. The order has gone out to my troops that we will be returning to Yukon City, but the exact circumstances have remained secret. I cannot have the information about the ballistic submarines getting out. Uriah and I know; Em knows, Vera, Manny, Cheng and Elle know. But that is it.

  I wake up, slowly, at about 0500, groggy and sore. I stretch my leg out, squeezing it, checking for any unusual pain. It’s bruised and scraped from my fall through the ice, but nothing too major. For that, I am grateful. It could have been so much worse.

  Are we really going to unleash these weapons? I think.

  Yeah, I guess we are. Omega has finally driven us to this point.

  They have forced our hand.

  “Cassidy!” Elle exclaims, bursting into the room, breathless. “They’ve got the radios working again!”

  I snap upright.

  “Great!” I say.

  I follow her down the hall, to the third level, where the offices and computer lab is. The hostages have been moved out of the compound and into an empty barracks building guarded by Mad Monks.

  In the office room, Father Kareem is sitting on a chair directly across from the Intelligence Supervisor. His name is Hung Lee, and he is glaring with fierce animosity at Father Kareem. Blood dribbles from the sides of his mouth.

  “Radios?” I say as I walk in.

  Andrew looks up from a table filled with radios, computers and gadgets. He has that feverish glint in his eye – the look he gets when he is working on something complicated and difficult. It’s the expression he has when he is in his element.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I started with an entirely new radio, and I had to tap into the signal and…you know what? Let’s just say I fixed it and leave the details for another time.”

  Vera – who is sitting on the table – lets out a relieved sigh.

  I take the receiver in my hand, my thumb hovering over the button.

  “This thing will plug into every airwave from here to the bottom of California,” Andrew says. “I reworked the radio tower on the top of the compound – that thing is a beast. I disabled Omega’s satellite links and hooked up our stuff instead.”

  I pat him on the shoulder.

  “Good job, soldier,” I grin. “I knew I could count on you.”

  He shrugs, but Vera beams at him. Even with all of their bickering, they still love each other, and she is proud of him. I see it in her eyes every time she looks at him, and I am happy that they have learned to love each other in the middle of this devastation.

  I press my thumb against the receiver and say, “Eagle’s Nest, this Yankee Leader, over. Come in, Eagle’s Nest.”

  I let go and listen for a response, but I hear nothing but static.

  “Eagle’s Nest,” I say one more time. “This is Yankee Leader, come in. Over.”

  Still, no response. I try to get an answer for several minutes before I give up. Em enters the room, her lips set into a thin line. I hold the radio out to her.

  “Tap in with the National Guard,” I tell her. “Let them know that we need them down here.”

  She nods and picks up the radio.

  “Gold Leader,” she says, “this is Whiskey One. Please respond, over.”

  “Whiskey One, this is Gold Leader,” the radio replies. A male voice. “Go ahead.”

  I nod, and Em goes ahead with her message for Colonel Wilcox, the commanding officer of the National Guard. I haven’t met the guy, but from what I hear, he’s pretty easy to work with.

  “What do we do if Omega comes back here and tries to take the base again?” Vera whispers.

  “The National Guard will take care of it,” I say. “That’s why we’re leaving them here – we’re occupying this base.”

  Vera nods.

  When Em is done relaying her orders, she turns to me.

  “Done,” she says. “National Guard forces will be here at approximately 1200 hours today.”

  Relief floods through me, and then the radio crackles.

  “Yankee Leader, this is Eagle’s Nest. We have received your transmission. Go ahead.”

  The voice is distinctly female, and I would recognize it anywhere: Arlene.

  My heart jumps into my chest. A response!

  “We read you, Eagle’s Nest,” I say. “We have taken Mendenhall. Repeat, we have taken Mendenhall with all of their packages and are returning to Gold Leader fully loaded.”

  “Copy that, Yankee Leader,” Arlene replies. “How fully loaded are you talking?”

  I look to Andrew for the correct radio codes – if Omega is listening, I don’t want to give anything away. “Frank Sinatra,” he mouths, giving me a thumbs up.

  “We are fully loaded and we’ve got Frank Sinatra with us,” I reply.

  There is a moment of silence.

  “Frank is with you,” Arlene answers at last. “Good to hear. When can we expect Frank to perform?”

  “As soon as possible,” I reply. “No ETA at this time.”

  “Very well.”

  “What is your current status, Eagle’s Nest?” I ask.

  “We are alive and well,” she replies. “Good to hear your voice, Yankee Leader.”

  “We’re going radio silent, Eagle’s Nest,” I continue. “Use contacts with Gold Leader for further information.”

  “Over and out, Yankee Leader.
”

  “Roger.”

  I put the radio down, a small smile on my face.

  So. Arlene knows that we’re headed back to California with nuclear submarines and seized Omega weaponry. What they don’t know is that we have militias across the country fighting the same fight that we are.

  I can’t wait to tell her. I can’t wait to tell Chris.

  “So what now, Commander?” Em asks.

  “We go back to Yukon City,” I say. “And we take those ballistic subs back to California, and we hit Omega with everything we’ve got on the way.”

  She smiles.

  Chapter Thirteen

  2 Days Later, Yukon City, Port of Whittier, Alaska

  Military Stronghold, S.S.B.N Peter

  Yukon City. We are back.

  The port is frigid. I shiver in the freezing wind, my hood pulled tightly around my face, my hands shoved into black gloves. The ballistic subs sit in the harbor, great, hulking black monsters peeking above the icy water. I stare at them, truly and honestly intimidated at the thought of descending into their bellies and diving into the depths of the sea.

  The city is a flurry of activity. The National Guard is gone, and all that is left is a hollow shell of a town in the snow and the ice. Civilians who staged an attack on Begich Towers are corralled into the city park area, living in RVs and pop-up campers.

  As for Mauve Bacardi…she is still in intensive care, deep in a coma. She may never wake up, and I can’t say that I feel bad for her. Maybe I’m just hardened, or maybe I’m just mean. But the fact remains that she abused her power here in Yukon City, and without her around, our time in the city has been much more pleasant.

  “Commander Hart.” A stoic, older man with gray hair and cobalt eyes salutes me.

  “You must be Captain Stanley,” I say.

  “Yes.” He nods. “It will be a pleasure having you and your men onboard.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate your efforts.”

  “Same for you.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have some duties to perform.”

  “Of course.”

  He walks away, and I wonder what his story is – how he ended up here.

  The crews of the subs are ambling around the docks, talking and swapping jokes. They are eased and relaxed – the thought of getting into the metal monster doesn’t scare them like it scares me.

  I take a deep breath and tell myself to suck it up.

  I am, after all, a commander. I can’t let my men see me like this.

  “You okay, Cassidy?” Margaret Young asks. She is standing next to me with Isabel. The young girl’s pale blond hair is piled beneath a black beanie. She stares at the subs with an intensity that I have never seen in her before.

  “Fine,” I murmur. “Are you okay?”

  “Well enough. We have survived to live another day.”

  I am grateful to God that the civilian coup did not count Margaret and Isabel among the casualties. When the uprising was happening, she and Isabel burrowed into the back closet in one of the penthouse apartments, curling up and waiting for hours until the gunfire and screaming stopped.

  The fact that I was not here to protect them for Chris will plague me forever.

  I cannot get rid of that guilt – not ever.

  “I’m glad we’re going back to California,” Margaret says. “It’s home.”

  “It always will be,” I agree.

  “And I miss my son.”

  I say nothing, because hey – I miss him too. But it’s a little different.

  “Why don’t you guys go ahead and board,” I say, clearing my throat. “Captain Stanley or one of the crewmen will be able to show you to your quarters.”

  “Are we going to kill everybody in California?” Isabel suddenly asks. She looks at me, her gaze hardened. “That’s what Uriah told me.”

  I knit my brow.

  “Uriah is wrong,” I reply. “We’re only fighting the enemy.”

  Margaret hauls a duffel bag over her shoulder.

  “Let’s go, honey,” she murmurs.

  She does not look at me as they move toward the sub, away from me.

  God. Now Margaret is afraid of me, too. Who have I become?

  When I turn around, I meet the steady, dark gaze of Uriah. He is standing there, still as a statue, frowning. I hadn’t even realized he was here.

  “You spying on me or something?” I quip, but the joke is forced.

  “Just thinking,” Uriah replies.

  “About what?”

  He doesn’t answer. He walks closer and stops a couple of feet away from me, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “You know,” he says, his voice low. “We could stay here. Base our operations in Yukon City, and strike Omega when we want to. We’d be on the offensive for once. We could build a life here, together. We could –”

  I take a step back, sensing the desperation in his voice. The longing.

  “We’re going back,” I say. “California needs us.”

  “No. Chris needs us,” Uriah replies, vitriol in his tone. “Otherwise we would stay here, you and me. And you know I’m right.”

  I stare at him, at the anguish in his expression. I see it then as I have never seen it before: heartbreak. Uriah loves me in a way I can never return, and that eats away at him like poison. I shake my head.

  “We’re not talking about this,” I tell him. “Nobody’s making you come back to California with me, but I know you, Uriah. Nobody’s going to take you out of the fight – it’s in your blood. You’re a creature of war, you said so yourself.”

  From the edge of the pier, Vera, Manny, Cheng, Elle and Bravo begin arriving at last. My eyes dart to their moving forms and then back at Uriah. He doesn’t flicker.

  “We’re both creatures of war,” he argues. “And this constant return to California is going to kill us one of these days.”

  “Then that’s the way it is,” I say. “We’ll have died for something worth fighting for.”

  I take a step forward and walk around him, heading straight toward my friends coming up the pier. Uriah does not move. He just remains in the same spot, staring at the subs in the harbor.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I turn around. He meets my gaze.

  “In the strategy room at the compound in Mendenhall,” he goes on. “The mug shot of me. The one where I had been arrested.”

  “Yeah?” I reply.

  “I killed men. A lot of them. Before the Collapse.”

  I raise my eyebrow, apprehensive.

  “What kind of men?” I ask.

  “Bad men. Men that burned my house, killed my dog, murdered my girlfriend.” His black eyes flicker with a spark of fury. “It was a crime mob, even in the sticks, where I was from. This big, Russian mob ruled everything. And I was young, hotheaded. I thought I could take them – so I did. I got the ringleaders arrested.”

  “What happened then?” I ask.

  “They put a price on my head,” Uriah replies. “They found my house, beat me up, burned the house down, shot my dog and murdered my girlfriend.” He closes his eyes. “Her name was Elena.”

  “That’s a pretty name,” I whisper.

  “She was a pretty girl.” He looks away. “It took me time to recover, physically and mentally. But when I did…” He rubs his chin and locks his eyes on mine. “I found them – the guys that did it. I killed them. All of them.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Uriah…a murderer before the Collapse? I mean, yes, his victims were bad people…but Uriah? Should this surprise me, knowing his tendency toward killing? Probably not. But does that mean that I want to hear it? No, of course not.

  “All of them?” I ask, my voice trembling.

  “Yeah. I was a cop, Cassidy, and I killed them.” He looks at the ground. “All twenty-three of them.”

  My eyes widen.

  “God, Uriah. That’s…”

  “Insane?” he interrupts. “I know. I knew when I did it that it was the e
nd of my life – but I didn’t care. I was on a vigilante mission of justice.” He laughs hollowly. “I was angry and broken, and I didn’t care about the rest of my life. I even turned myself into the cops.”

  I stare at him, remembering a few years ago when a small-town police officer made headlines for massacring a group of Russian gang members. It was the hottest news in every newspaper and cable channel for at least two months.

  I had been young, then. Maybe thirteen. I didn’t pay attention to names or faces.

  “Is your name really Uriah True?” I whisper.

  He replies, “No.”

  I let this sink in, the gut-wrenching, soul-searing truth.

  Then I say, “I don’t want to know your real name.”

  Silence. I hear Elle’s voice. They have almost reached us.

  “I was being transported from a maximum-security prison cell to my court hearing the day the lights when out,” Uriah continues. “The bus crashed, the driver was killed. I got out. I escaped the city. And when society collapsed…I got a chance to start over. I could do what I was good at, without consequences.”

  “Killing,” I say.

  He nods.

  “How did you find the Freedom Fighters?” I ask.

  “Your father,” he replies. “He never told you, did he?”

  I shake my head, afraid to hear the words that are about to leave his mouth.

  “Ready to take the great plunge into the icy depths of the sea?” Manny cracks, walking up behind me, flashing a wry grin. “I know how much you love being contained in tight spaces.”

  “Shut up,” I say, startled out of the conversation. “I’m ready enough.”

  Great timing, Manny. Great timing.

  Uriah’s lips are pressed into a thin line, and I can see that our conversation is over. The knowledge that he has just handed to me churns in my stomach like a hurricane…Uriah True…a mass murderer?

  But he only killed the people who hurt him. Criminals and thugs.

  Does that make it right? Is it wrong that I’m judging Uriah for killing people before the Collapse – as if the devastation of civilization wiped the slate clean and gave us new rules for killing people? Am I trying to justify what he did because I have killed so many people myself?