by Summer Lane
“Vera is inside the Convention Center,” Uriah continues. “She’s…different. Her mother’s death. It affected her more than she would like to admit, I think.”
“Understandable,” I say.
Angela Wright is dead. Yet another one of us dies at Omega’s hands.
It infuriates me.
“They’re waiting for you inside,” Uriah says, standing straighter.
“Me?”
“You’re a Senator now, remember?” A slight smile spreads across his lips.
“How could I forget?” I gesture for him to follow me. We walk together toward the entrance of the Convention Center, entering through the doors. A huge, carpeted foyer and escalators that actually work can be found here. Doors line the walls, each one an entrance to a different floor.
“Where were you last night, Cassidy?” Uriah whispers.
“At the hospital.”
“Why?”
“I was looking for my Dad.” I shake my head. “I’d rather not talk about my father right now. I need to be calm.”
“Okay,” Uriah continues. “Let me rephrase that: why weren’t you with Chris at Headquarters last night? The officers were meeting. We needed you.”
“I had an obligation to make sure my father was alive,” I say.
Uriah closes his mouth. He understands. He always does.
“Well…” he pauses. “Is he?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “He wasn’t at the hospital. He’s still missing in action.”
He says nothing. There is a gathering of National Guardsmen in uniform at the end of the foyer. We follow them into a huge room – gray floors, gray walls, and huge skylights above our heads.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.” Andrew jumps up from a chair. He is tall and lean, short dark hair cropped into a military buzz. He is a good man. Our so-called “tech guy.” One of the most valuable people in my platoon.
“Andrew,” I say. “What’s going on here?”
“They need you,” he replies.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because it’s true,” Uriah points out.
I look to the front of the room. I recognize Robert Lockwood – the Pro Tem Speaker of the House. I’m glad to see that he survived the bombing. Manny is seated on a chair, watching the gathering of officers with an annoyed expression on his face.
Good old Manny. Completely anti-political.
Chris is standing with his arms folded across his broad, muscular chest, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, his jaw taut. He is talking with Vera Wright. She looks upset, her usually pale cheeks colored with splotches of red. Chris shakes his head and gestures to the door. She fists her hands at her sides and marches away, in our direction.
“Vera, what’s wrong?” I ask her.
She doesn’t answer. She glares at me as she exits the room, never pausing to speak to anyone else. Chris looks up and catches my eye. He nods slightly and turns back to the rest of the officers.
I walk over. And then I see why Chris is so tense. Colonel Rivera – a big, blundering man with a cigar wedged between his teeth – is speaking. This is the man who denied the militias backup during a fight with Omega. This is the man who refused to send a rescue unit into Los Angeles to rescue Chris when he was captured by Omega. This is the man who will hate me for the rest of my life for disobeying his ridiculous orders to abandon Chris and deny me a rescue mission into Los Angeles, Operation Angel Pursuit.
This man is no friend of mine.
“Senator Hart,” he sneers as I enter the group. “Where have you been?”
I don’t answer his question.
Instead, I say, “Commander Young.” I nod respectfully at the love of my life, then face Robert Lockwood. He is a tall man with dark brown hair and a deep, baritone voice. “Speaker,” I say. “What’s the situation?”
“The situation,” Manny interrupts, “is that Omega launched a cruise missile from a ship just outside of the San Francisco Bay, hit the Capitol Building twice, and injured several hundred people – and killed dozens. But we already know this. The question, boys and girls, is what we’re going to do about it.”
“We double our defenses and hit back,” Colonel Rivera booms. He looks directly at me as he speaks. “Unless the Senator objects.”
I glance at Chris.
“The Senator is still a Commander, Colonel,” Chris slings back. “Don’t forget that.”
Chris’s glare is lethal, and the Colonel shuts up.
“We don’t have the resources to attack a ship in the San Francisco Bay from here,” I say, stating the obvious. “But the Alliance does. If California is going to survive, we need to join the Alliance as soon as possible.”
“Negotiations are beginning in two days,” Robert says.
“Where?”
“Monterey, California.”
“The coastline?”
Chris replies, “Monterey is heavily fortified with elements of the United States Naval Forces. Omega wouldn’t try to breach the steel ring around the bay area.”
“Omega will try anything,” Uriah points out.
“Where will the negotiations be?” I ask. “Because if Omega finds out, they could just send another cruise missile to wipe out all of the representatives from the Alliance.”
“The Naval Post Graduate School,” Chris answers. “It will be safe, trust me.”
I trust Chris. But I don’t discount Omega’s ability to screw everything up.
“How will I get there?” I press.
“By train.”
“We have a railroad?”
“It’s safer than traveling by plane right now, with Omega’s air activity getting more dangerous,” Andrew says. “We can get you there with a security detail in less than two days. You’ll be there in time for the meeting.”
Surprisingly, knowing that I am being sent on a desperate mission to save California from the devastation of Omega’s invasion doesn’t frighten me. I am no longer afraid. I am simply angry that Omega has managed to do this much damage, and I am ready to help put a final stop to it.
“You mentioned a security detail,” I say.
“Yes. When Omega finds out that we’re joining the Alliance – if they haven’t found out already – they may attempt to stop the Negotiations,” Robert answers. “And they will do that in any way they can.”
By killing the representative: Me.
“Has anyone here given any thought to the fact that there’s another traitor amongst us?” Manny interjects. “Have you told everyone what you found, Colonel Rivera?
The Colonel takes his cigar out of his mouth.
“Optics. Laser optics on the roof of a building a couple of blocks away from the Capitol,” he replies. “Someone was designating a laser at the dome.”
Ah. Manny was right.
“Are there any clues to the person’s identity?” Andrew asks.
“Nothing. Only whoever did it was most likely a good shot.” Colonel Rivera looks at me again. “You never know who you can trust in days like these.”
Please. I’m not the enemy here, Colonel.
“We’ve had traitors before,” I say, “and we’ll have them until this war is over. We have to move forward and make sure that something like this can never happen again. The first step in that strategy is getting me to Monterey so that I can negotiate with the Alliance.”
There is a pause before Chris replies,
“I agree. Our number one priority is taking care of the survivors from the bombing and getting Senator Hart to Monterey.”
“The Senator will need to leave immediately,” Robert says.
“I’m ready to go,” I answer.
“I volunteer for security detail for Senator Hart,” Andrew volunteers.
“So do I,” Uriah agrees.
“And I’ll fly overhead security,” Manny offers. “I’ll keep you updated while you’re on board the train.”
“Thank you,” I smile.
/> “I’ll accompany the Senator,” Chris says. “The Naval Academy and I go back a long way. I’ll be able to help.”
Robert replies, “It will be dangerous for both of you to go. You’ll make for a bigger target.”
“It’s a necessary risk,” Chris says. “I know Monterey better than anyone here.”
Robert seems to accept this. “Get the security detail ready,” he answers. “Tell the National Guard to fire up the railroad. We’ve got two days to get to Monterey Bay. And God willing, we will successfully join the Alliance before it’s too late.”
Before Omega destroys us all.
Chapter Four
When I was a child, I rode on a train at a theme park. I don’t remember the name of the park or how old I was. I just remember the train, and I remember sitting in my father’s lap as the wind tossed my hair and billows of smoke from the locomotive filled the sky.
It was magical, riding a train. It’s a memory that is ingrained in my heart. One of the few happy moments in my life before the EMP. Before everything was destroyed.
I’m standing at the window in my hotel room, overlooking the street below. The National Guard is getting the train ready – the train that will take me to Monterey Bay…and to the Alliance’s negotiation table. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this kind of thing. I’m beginning to wish that I hadn’t been nominated as a Senator.
I turn away from the window and sit down at the table. There is an old tourist booklet near the lamp. I flip it open and look through the pictures. Bright, colored photographs of families enjoying “quality time” together as they visit the city. Old Town Sacramento, Capitol Mall, The Stanford Mansion, The Governor’s Mansion…such beautiful places. And, for the time being, we have managed to preserve the city. Unlike Los Angeles, which is an empty husk – the aftereffect of a chemical weapon Omega unleashed on the populace.
I close the book.
There is an abrupt knock on the hotel door. I straighten my spine and stand up, snapping out of my reverie. I open the door. And there is Sophia. She looks uncomfortable. I am surprised – I had no idea that she was working with our militia again. When did this happen?
“Cassidy,” she says. “They’re ready for you.”
I nod slowly.
“Okay,” I reply. I grab my backpack and leave the room. I don’t look back.
Goodbye, Sacramento. Hello, Alliance.
I close the door. Sophia is standing there, tense, and I wonder why they sent her to fetch me. Surely that could have found someone else.
“Cassidy,” she says.
I meet her gaze. The hallway is quiet, empty.
“I…” she begins, then trails off. “Come on.”
“Sophia, we need to talk about this,” I say.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She pushes the call button for the elevator. “What happened, happened. We can’t change that now.”
“I just want us to be friends again.” I offer a hopeful smile.
The elevator doors slide open, and Sophia steps inside. I do, too. The doors close, and there is a heavy silence between us. She never responds, she just stares at the wall. She moves her lips a couple of times, like she’s thinking about speaking – but she doesn’t. The elevator doors open.
“Commander Young and your security detail is waiting for you at the station,” she says. “There will be a convoy to take you there, and from that point, you’re under the protection of the militias.”
I tap the gun holstered on my hip.
We reach the bottom floor.
The doors open once again.
She nods and takes off into the lobby. I shake my head and wonder how in the world things could have gotten so messed up with Sophia. My friend. My partner.
I guess people can only take so much tragedy. Sophia’s family was living in New York at the time of the EMP, and they were killed when the city was nuked. Sophia fell in love with Alexander Ramos, who went MIA. She also loved Jeff Young – Chris’s younger brother – and he was killed in action. Sophia has had her fair share of disappointment and despair.
So have I.
Maybe I just handle it differently. I haven’t gotten to the point of no return.
Yet.
I step outside into the loading area. There are Humvees and up-armored Suburbans here. I see Vera Wright, platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She is waiting by an idling Humvee. I approach her, the roar of engines and chatter among the troops creating a curtain of noise.
“Vera,” I say. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
She stares at me, blue eyes vacant.
“Welcome to war,” she states coldly.
“I was with her when she died,” I continue. “She told me to tell you that she was sorry.”
Vera looks surprised – but only for a moment. She sets her jaw and opens the car door. “Everyone’s waiting for you at the station,” she says.
I exhale. Vera and I have never been friends, but the pain of losing someone that you love is not to be taken lightly. I don’t necessarily like Vera…but I understand what she is going through. It is the same thing that I went through when I saw Jeff Young die. I get a flash of my father’s face in the Capitol Building, just before it collapsed. I shudder, feeling sick. Feeling suffocated.
DO NOT THINK ABOUT HIM.
NOT UNTIL THIS IS OVER.
I inhale. In, out. In, out. I shut it down.
I briefly squeeze Vera’s shoulder and get into the front seat of the Humvee. It is a familiar spot for me. I close the door and Vera gets into the backseat. The driver door opens and Uriah climbs behind the wheel.
He looks at me, serious.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks.
“It’s just another level in the game,” I shrug.
He smiles faintly.
“That’s one way of putting it,” he comments. He hands me a stack of papers, written by hand. It is a mission roster. I skim through the names of the people on my security detail…Chris, Uriah, Sophia, Andrew…but I do not see Alexander Ramos.
“Alexander isn’t on this mission,” I state.
“Apparently not.” Uriah replies. Then, quietly,
“That won’t be easy for Sophia.”
“Welcome to war,” I say, echoing Vera’s words.
“Where is the station from here?”
“Just a couple of miles,” Uriah answers.
“Where’s Manny?”
“Ready on the flight line.” He smiles. “He’s dependable like that.”
Good old Manny.
I trace my finger along the door handle as we wait for the all-clear signal to move out. We roll out in convoy formation. Ever since the missile hit the Capitol Building, it has been painfully obvious that Omega has the ability to breach our security whenever they want. I don’t know what’s stopping Omega from leveling this entire city to the ground. The knowledge that they might strike again is frightening.
“Your security detail will be on the train with you,” Uriah explains. “If Omega finds out that we’re sending a legitimate senator to negotiate California into the Alliance, they’ll try to kill you.”
“They’ve tried to kill me plenty of times before,” I comment.
“This is different. You’ll be a bigger target.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” I bite my lip, thinking of the repercussions this will have on the rest of my life. I’m already known to them as a Militia Commander…but this is a different level of fame, so to speak. With fame comes a higher spot for me on Omega’s kill list. And people like Harry Lydell will be all too happy to try to take me down.
“Don’t worry,” Uriah says, seeing the look on my face. “You’re going to be fine.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I reply.
And that’s the truth.
I’d rather be killed than lose this war.
I’m worried about our survival, not mine.
We wind through boulevards that have
been secured and blockaded. I watch the buildings roll by, empty edifices now turned into part of the massive National Guard and militia fortifications. The boulevard dips under a huge underpass and we pop up by the Sacramento Courthouse, a large skyscraper with blue windows. To the left is a large, antique brick building.
The sign out front reads, Amtrak, and beside it, a new sign has been erected:
UNITED STATES MILITARY
TRANSPORTATION CENTER
We pull up through the parking lot – a maze of barricades and militia patrols. We stop at the front. Taxicabs used to sit on the curb here and wait for passengers who needed rides to their hotels. Now it is a military loading zone.
I open the door. Uriah and Vera exit with me. I cast Vera a glance, gauging her mood. She is as steely as ever.
I walk inside the station. The ceilings are huge, and every footstep and word echoes in the hollow chamber. Rows of old, wooden benches line the room. A huge mural of the breaking of the ground for the first transcontinental railroad is painted across the far wall.
I see Chris with militia members in the far corner of the station. He sees me enter and says a quick few words to the men around him, then walks toward me.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, gesturing to the vaulted ceiling.
“Yes,” I agree.
“Hey, boss,” Uriah says.
“Lieutenant True,” Chris nods. “Lieutenant Wright.”
Vera doesn’t respond. Both Uriah and Vera head toward the other side of the building, leaving me alone with Chris.
“What was she arguing with you about this morning?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Chris shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” he says.
“It does to me.”
“Cassie…” He sighs.
“Is she being a pain?” I demand. “Because I’ll tell her to knock it off if she is.”
“Her mother just died. Cut her some slack,” Chris answers.
“I know that. I held Angela’s hand while she was bleeding out on the sidewalk.” I take a sharp breath, realizing that my words came out harsher than I had originally intended. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m a little nervous, I guess. This whole negotiations thing has me wound tight.”
“You’re not the only one,” Chris says.