Collapse Series (Book 9): State of Allegiance

by Summer Lane

“Come on,” I say. “We gotta get our gear together. We’re leaving in a few hours.”

  Chris nods, and we return to the hotel, to the empty room.

  “I hate this place,” I mumble.

  “It’s not so bad,” Chris replies. “We’re still alive, right?”

  “Whatever.”

  He sheds his jacket and rests his hands on his knees, sitting on the bed.

  “So,” he says. “About yesterday …”

  “What about it?”

  “I know it wasn’t the best timing, but I did propose to you.”

  “Before the missiles.”

  “Yeah, before that.”

  He smiles a little, and so do I.

  “I’m happy,” I reply. “Are you?”

  “About us? You’d better believe it.” He takes my hand and holds it in his. “Sorry it wasn’t romantic.”

  “Nothing in war is romantic.” I shrug.

  “Trust me, I can be romantic. Just not—”

  “When death is knocking on our door?”

  Despite everything, I laugh.

  “Right.” Chris kisses my forehead. “We should get married. Soon.”

  I sigh. As nice as it sounds, getting hitched to Chris right now is not at the top of my priorities list. I know he loves me—he knows I love him. We’ve got a lot going on. For example: the end of the world and the biggest war to ever befall Earth.

  Now is the time to be practical. Romanticism is nice but not realistic.

  “Chris,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “In Monterey, you told me that your wife was killed when you were out of the country,” I go on. “But yesterday, in the house, you said you found her at home, dead. Which story is true—and why are you lying to me about it?”

  Chris flinches, and I know I have touched on a painful subject.

  His dead wife is not exactly my favorite topic of conversation, but the lie bugs me.

  Why lie to me?

  “I … went through a lot before I met you,” he says slowly. “Jane’s death was difficult for me, Cassie. I’ll be honest with you—our relationship was different than what you and I have. Jane and I … we fought like cats and dogs. We were vicious sometimes. But I was young when I met her, and I was arrogant. And so was she. We were both selfish.”

  I study Chris. I’ve never heard him open up like this before—not about Jane, anyway.

  “You loved her?” I say.

  “Yeah, I did.” He shrugs. “Maybe she and I would have ended up getting divorced in ten years, but we tried to make it work. I don’t know. I was committed, but sometimes I don’t think she was. She had issues with my career—she hated it when I was deployed. Which was a lot. Anyway, none of that matters because she was killed. We never had a chance to keep trying.”

  “Terrorists kills her?”

  “Basically.”

  “But why?”

  “I got in the way of the wrong people, Cassie,” Chris explains. “They were out for revenge. They wanted to kill me, but instead, they killed my wife. I was blamed for her death—among other things—and I was court-martialed. Stripped of everything …” He looks away. “It was a nightmare.”

  “Wait—you were court-martialed?” I exclaim, alarmed. “So, you were kicked out—”

  “I proved my innocence, eventually.” Chris leans back. “Devin helped me, back then. I couldn’t have gotten through any of it without him. But I decided I was done with the Navy. Done with the killing, with the bloodshed. There were too many dangers, too many bad memories, too many politics involved.” He shakes his head. “When I think back to all the missions I did, Cassie, I can see the thread of Omega’s corruption running through the entire world—even our own country. It’s terrifying really. They’re everywhere, like a virus.”

  “So, you left the Navy and moved to Santee,” I deduce.

  “I was thinking of going back into the Navy,” Chris admits. “That was two years after I left … but then the Collapse happened. And I guess I ended up coming back into a fight whether I liked it or not.”

  “So, why did you lie to me about where you were when Jane was killed?” I demand.

  “I didn’t want to tell you about the court-martial,” Chris replies, frowning. “It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to go through. It was easier to skip that part than explain it all.”

  “You have to be honest with me,” I tell him evenly. “Always. No vetting or changing stories—ever. I want the whole truth, raw and honest, every freaking time. Always.”

  “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I agree.”

  “If you want to marry me,” I go on, “you can never keep secrets from me. The only way this works is if we are transparent. Totally, completely transparent.”

  Chris pulls me closer.

  “Cassidy Hart,” he says softly. “You are the love of my life. Whatever happened with Jane—I was meant to meet you in the end. It was in the cards from the beginning.”

  He kisses me then, long and hard.

  “Meeting you was worth it all,” he says simply, without remorse. “You’re worth it.”

  I ruffle his hair playfully.

  “So are you,” I tell him.

  And honestly, you probably couldn’t find two people more devoted to each other than we are. We have both gone through so much together—and for each other. Rescue missions, imprisonment, torture, battle. We have been tested. We know where we stand.

  Then why does he keep secrets from you, even after all this time? The voice of doubt plants this seed in my head. Why can’t he simply trust you?

  I squash the thought. I can’t think that way. I have to trust Chris.

  “So, when are we getting married?” Chris grins.

  There is only a slight undercurrent of fear in his eyes—the fear that he will lose me like he lost Jane. Like getting married is some kind of jinx that will end me for good.

  “Whenever we get the chance,” I say.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Thanks, Commander.”

  I mock salute him, and then Chris kisses me again, and then we get our gear together.

  Time to move on already.

  ***

  We head back to the N.A.S., and Chris has arranged for a Black Hawk to take us out to the U.S.S. Roberta for our meeting with the mysterious Admiral Boyd. I have my gear on my back, with Chris’s selected team beside us. Manny stands silently—highly out of character for him. His expression is grim, and I know his thoughts are on Arlene.

  “You don’t have to come,” I told him earlier. “Stay with Arlene if you want. Chris and I understand.”

  “No,” Manny replied, resigned. “I belong in the fight. Arlene would want it this way. I’m not doing any good sitting next to her like this, anyway. The nurses keep tripping over me. I’m a regular roadblock …”

  The airstrip is cold this afternoon. The Black Hawk that will take us to the fleet sits on the tarmac. The pilot is talking with Chris and Stanley. I assess my small team. Em has left India behind in the kennels on Coronado Island. There is no point for two K-9s today. We are simply bringing Bravo along because he is a part of our team.

  Maybe the Admiral can help us level the playing field with Omega, I hope privately. Maybe he knows something that can change the course of the war.

  Don’t count on it, something tells me. Omega doesn’t fight fair—that’s why they’re so strong.

  True. Omega has never fought fair—their initial invasion was based on panic and fear. It worked beautifully. Modern civilization simply wasn’t ready to return to a primitive state. So many died. When I think about the death toll, a number that must be in the multi-millions in the United States alone, I feel a sadness so deep and penetrating that I begin to tremble with the knowledge of it.

  That is over now, I tell myself. All that’s left is to fight—until the end.

  It’s painfully obvious to all of us these days that the end of this war could be closer than we want to admit. Omeg
a’s itchy trigger finger might get us all killed. What do we do if our country is totally destroyed? California is already enough of a mess as it is.

  We would live the rest of our lives out in hiding.

  Real fun. Can’t wait for that exciting future.

  “Let’s go,” Chris says.

  I gather my gear. I don’t know how long we’ll be onboard the Roberta, so I have brought all of my weapons and supplies with me, including my rifle. Uriah sits on the far side of the chopper, near Manny. He is obviously avoiding me, and that’s fine. I’ve got other things on my mind.

  The Black Hawk thunders to life, and I put my rifle between my knees, closing my eyes.

  Please let this be a positive thing, I pray. Let the Admiral be helpful.

  It’s an empty hope, but I hold onto it anyway.

  Chapter Four

  At 1500 hours, we touch down on the Roberta, a massive supercarrier bobbing in the vast expanse of the ocean.

  “Carrier strike group!” Chris explains over the din of the rotor wash, his words crackling through the headset. Surrounding the carrier are three destroyers, two cruisers, and a frigate. My heart buoys with hope at seeing the United States Navy in all its maritime glory.

  “Didn’t expect this!” I say.

  The Black Hawk slowly lands on the deck of the massive vessel. Chris squeezes my hand, and then we land and the blades slow. We have made it in one piece—for that, at least, I am grateful.

  I step off the chopper onto the deck, hauling my pack with me, and my rifle. The wind chill factor is off the charts. It gusts across the flat, open expanse of the deck and slices into my exposed skin. And there, waiting for us with a small party of sailors, is the man whom I assume is Admiral Greg Boyd.

  He is a tall, lithe man with a square jaw and blue uniform.

  “Commander Chris Young,” he says simply.

  Chris salutes.

  “Admiral Boyd,” he replies. “This is Commander Cassidy Hart and my team.”

  Stanley and I both salute as the rest of the team climbs out of the Black Hawk.

  “It’s good to see survivors out of San Diego,” Admiral Boyd says gravely. His voice is deep and cutting. “Please, follow me to the Bridge, and I’ll bring you up to speed.”

  I glance at Chris before hurrying to follow Admiral Boyd, who seems in a rush to get off the deck. The entire ship is buzzing with activity and noise. There are sailors everywhere—here and on the surrounding ships protecting the carrier. I’ve never been on a vessel so utterly massive. It’s truly a floating city.

  We follow Admiral Boyd to the tower control on deck, which rises into the sky, boasting glass windows that overlook the ship and the entire sea. We go inside and climb several flights of metal stairs before stopping in what looks to me like Command Control. There are computer screens and technical readouts everywhere, along with men wearing headsets, monitoring radios and radar.

  “Welcome aboard the U.S.S Roberta,” Admiral Boyd says. “We are one of the few supercarriers left in the world at this point in time, and our fleet is one of the few surviving fleets of the United States Navy.”

  “Impressive,” Chris replies.

  Uriah moves aside to allow Elle and the rest of our small team into the room.

  “This is the entire surviving militia leadership from California?” Boyd asks, frowning.

  “Yes, sir,” Chris answers. “Myself; Commander Hart; Commander Kareem; Lieutenants Devin May, Uriah True, Vera Wright, Manny Costas; Sergeant Elle Costas and her K-9, Bravo; and Commander Em Davis, from Yukon City.”

  Admiral Boyd says, “Tell me, Commander. How bad is the damage to San Diego?”

  “Many civilian casualties,” Chris replies. “But Omega left the Naval Air Station intact.”

  “So I heard. I apologize for the cryptic nature of my message to you in Coronado,” the Admiral goes on. “You must understand, I have incredibly sensitive intel for you.”

  That, at least, is a relief.

  “There is much to discuss,” Boyd continues. “But first, my men will show you to your quarters, and we can reassemble in my office at 1800 hours.”

  “Sounds good,” Chris agrees. “We appreciate it.”

  We leave the office, and I am quickly struck with the realization that Admiral Boyd is expecting us to stay for a while, otherwise he wouldn’t have assigned us our own quarters.

  What does he know?

  As we head below deck toward the crews’ quarters, I can’t help but feel that we are terribly alone here.

  ***

  This nuclear-powered supercarrier is the most comfortable place I’ve been in the last few weeks. It is massive, stocked with supplies, and the vessel is completely self-sufficient.

  My quarters are a room that contains several bunks. I stay with Vera, Elle, and Em. There is a small shower inside this room, and we take turns rinsing off the sweat of the last couple of days. We are all given new uniforms—I pull on a black tank top and dark cargo pants, strapping my gun to my thigh and lacing up my boots.

  “Hey,” Vera says. “I have a bad feeling about what Boyd is going to tell us.”

  “Yeah, well, join the club.” I quickly fix my hair.

  “Also.” Vera points to my left hand. “What’s with the ring?”

  I glance at my hand. I keep forgetting the ring is there.

  “Ah,” I say. “Chris asked me to marry him.”

  “Big shocker,” Vera replies, rolling her eyes. Then, with a slight smile, “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Only the people that notice the ring.”

  Vera laughs. “Of course. And Uriah?”

  “What about him?”

  “I bet he’s not taking it well.”

  “He’s taking it fine.” I check my stuff one last time. “Why?”

  “He loves you.” Vera shrugs.

  I give Vera a sharp look.

  “I don’t know why,” I state. “He knows I love Chris.”

  “He keeps holding out hope, I guess.”

  “He’s delusional.”

  “Right,” she mutters. “Whatever.”

  I ignore her, well aware that even when she is in her best mood, Vera has the tendency to try and poke a stick. She knows how Uriah feels about me—apparently, everybody on the western seaboard does. It’s not my problem. I have a war to win, and that’s about as far as my thought process gets on a day-to-day basis.

  Elle finishes her shower, and then Em is next. When we are all cleaned and dressed, Elle leaves Bravo behind in our quarters to allow him to rest, and we head back to the tower to meet with Admiral Boyd and the rest of our unit. Manny is looking ragged, but he smiles when Elle and I meet him in the hallway.

  “Enjoying the cruise?” he asks.

  Elle shrugs.

  “Your chipper attitude is buoying for the soul,” Manny remarks, sarcastically.

  We wind our way through mazes of metal hallways and clatter up ladders. The deck is freezing cold, and the sun is already beginning to sink into the horizon. We reach Boyd’s office and find a fairly large room with a meeting table and a desk. Chris, Uriah, Devin, and Father Kareem are already there.

  “Welcome,” Boyd says as we come in. “Please, have a seat.”

  I take my place next to Chris.

  “I would again just like to say not only welcome aboard,” Admiral Boyd tells us, “but thank you for your contributions in the fight against the greatest evil this world has ever known, Omega.”

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  “I’m sure that you have questions,” Boyd goes on. “And I will be more than happy to answer them. But first, let’s get to the point of this entire meeting. I have intel, and I have an offer to make you. San Diego has been compromised, yes. But your biochemical attacks on the Pacific coast strongholds of Omega’s forces were still effective. Regardless of whether the strikes were retaliation or not, you did an immense amount of damage to their presen
ce in California.

  “If we can keep battering Omega’s forces here and on their home front, we stand a chance of winning,” Boyd explains, excitement lighting his aged features. He presses his long, slender fingers against a map of the world mounted on his wall. “Omega’s military foot soldiers are coming directly from China, but they are being shipped in from Russia, the Middle East, Turkey, and even India, in some cases.”

  “They’re recruiting more fighters,” Em states.

  “Exactly.”

  “They’re getting stronger,” I say.

  “They’re getting ready to completely infest the country with their men,” Boyd says. “We have spies in China and Russia—even the Middle Eastern countries. Omega units are mobilizing around the world, but that’s not all.” Here, he pauses and surveys us to see if we’re paying attention.

  “They are mobilizing their civilian populations,” he reveals. “Their women, their children—their citizenry. They are getting ready to bring them overseas, to move into our country. Our home. They plan to rebuild the United States and the entire world with their people and their ideals. They are essentially planning to repopulate the earth, wipe us out completely. An extermination of sorts.”

  I think about this—and I wonder if the millions or even billions of people currently under the tyrannical regime of Omega are crazy about pulling up stakes and being dragged overseas to repopulate a brand-new nation built on the murder of entire continents.

  Probably not.

  “So, they’re trying to fumigate us,” Uriah remarks. “They want to kill us off, and then move their people in.” He looks at me. “See? They’re not going to annihilate the landscape completely.”

  “No,” Chris agrees. “They’re not. The attacks are always warnings—that’s it. Damaging warnings, of course, but still. Only warnings. They can’t rule the world if they destroy it. They have to be careful.”

  “I’d have no problem unleashing nuclear warfare on all of them,” Vera mumbles.

  “Exactly!” I exclaim suddenly, standing up. “Don’t you see? That’s our advantage! We are fighting for our lives and our homes. They’re not. They’re fighting for control and world domination—a twisted ideology under a corrupt one world order. Right? They’ll never destroy us completely because they need something to dominate. But we don’t. We just want to live.” I study the map of the world. “We can destroy them, but they can’t destroy us. And that makes us stronger than they are.”