by Summer Lane
I give him a look.
“You haven’t been terribly accessible lately.”
“I’m not the one who’s been having the communication problem,” he replies.
I open my mouth, a thousand retorts dancing on the tip of my tongue. I could tell him that yes, this whole thing is his fault. He’s keeping secrets, he won’t tell me he loves me, and he’s been cold since I cornered him about his marriage on the train to Monterey.
But I say nothing, because sometimes that’s the best thing to do.
“So what’s the issue, Cassidy?” Chris demands.
His eyes are ringed with red, a sign of sleepless nights and crushing pressure. He is not himself. The Chris I fell in love with is patient and kind, gentle yet firm.
“What’s not the problem?” I say. My voice echoes in the church. “We’re at war.”
Chris considers this, then holds out his hand.
“You and I don’t have to be,” he answers slowly.
I lean on the wall, flickering candles throwing shadows across our faces.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say. “But I don’t want to force you to tell me things that you don’t want to share. I can’t be everything to you all the time. I get that. I just want to be your friend again, at least.”
As the words leave my mouth, I get a bitter taste in the back of my throat.
“We’re a little more then friends, Cassie,” Chris replies, and he smiles nervously. “You don’t have to be dramatic.”
And that’s when I see it: fear.
There is fear in Chris’s eyes.
“Why are you afraid?” I ask. “If you don’t want to lose me, tell me. If you love me, tell me! Keeping secrets and holding back words that need to be said will never help anyone, Chris. Sometimes you have to say something, or the moment will be over, and it will be too late. ”
He doesn’t move, seemingly frozen in place.
I wonder if I’ve said too much – gone too far.
Chris shakes his head, as if laughing at a private joke, and takes several steps forward, hooking his right arm around my waist, sliding his left hand behind my neck, into my hair. It seems like it has been an eternity since he has held me, and I press against him, forgetting the argument for a moment.
I just want to be.
Chris’s body is warm, and I feel comfort in his embrace. A thrill rushes down my spine. My fingers and toes tingle with the excitement of being so close to him – it has been a long time.
He kisses the side of my neck, a soft, warm touch. I wrap my arms around his neck and he draws me into a sweet, slow kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that eats you up. The kind that you feel in the pit of your stomach, in the bottom of your heart. The best kind of kiss; real, true and perfect.
It’s Chris.
He hooks his fingers through the belt loops of my fatigues and holds me closer. I taste the coffee on his breath and feel the stubble on his jaw, scratching my lips.
“Cassie,” Chris breathes, kissing my cheek. “My marriage – all of that. It’s in the past. I’m not married anymore. My wife…she died. A long time ago.” He takes a great, heaving breath. “It’s just hard for me to talk about.”
First, I feel relief: This woman doesn’t present a threat to our relationship!
And second: I had no idea Chris’s heart had been so broken in the past.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
Chris closes his eyes, kisses me again.
“She…” he begins, and trails off. “It’s a long story, Cassie. Not a pretty one.”
“You can’t protect me anymore. Not even from your past.”
He looks surprised to hear me say that. I press a deep kiss to his mouth, smiling gently. “Don’t hide from me,” I say. “We need each other. We’re a team, remember?” I hold up my hand, reminiscent of a gesture of loyalty we made to each other long ago, in a cabin in the woods… “We’re in this together.”
Chris takes my hand and kisses each knuckle, green eyes never leaving mine.
“If that’s the case-” he says, but he is interrupted.
Devin appears at the front of the church.
“Sorry to break up the love fest,” he says, his voice echoing loudly in the sanctuary. “But we have a situation.”
Out of habit – and a little bit of embarrassment – I step away from Chris. I immediately miss the warmth of his body. I feel cold already.
“What’s up?” Chris says, flushed.
“Omega ships are inbound off the coast,” Devin replies.
I stare at him, still racked with emotion.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I mutter.
Devin shakes his head.
“I wish I was, Commander,” he says. “I really wish I was.”
Chapter Ten
We do not go back to the Naval Postgraduate School. It is still early morning when I get into an armored truck with Chris, Devin trailing behind us in the Jeep. I wonder, briefly, if Devin took me out to the mission, knowing that Chris would follow.
Hmm…
I push the thought away. I feel more at ease sitting beside Chris in the passenger seat. We are silent, but we are comfortable. And our minds are both elsewhere. I would like to know how his wife died – what’s the story there? But I will wait. At least I know that Chris is not currently married, and I no longer have to worry about the possibility of another woman ruining my relationship.
“No Omega ships have been brave enough to get close to Monterey since the EMP, according to Devin,” Chris says, breaking the silence in the car. We are driving back through the mountainous highway. Coming back, I can see the entire city, sprawling in every direction over the tips of the coastal firs and pines.
“Something’s changed in the game,” I reply.
Chris doesn’t say anything. His pensive expression says it for him:
There are rough waters ahead.
I take a deep, steadying breath as we get closer to the city. Devin takes an exit and we find ourselves on a boulevard that is fairly crowded with military vehicles.
“If this town wasn’t secured…” Chris mutters, leaving the sentence hanging.
I know what he is thinking. Being in an area filled with traffic is making him just as nervous as it’s making me. Anything could happen. There could be Omega spies or assassins hiding anywhere…
And then I tell myself to relax. I cannot control everything.
I have to trust that we’re going to be okay.
“Where is Devin taking us?” I ask at last.
“The harbor.”
His reply is simple and short. The emotional moment that we just had in the church seems to have passed, and we’re back to business. Back to the war.
The girl in me sighs. The soldier in me says, It’s about time, woman.
We take the boulevard for what seems like a long time, passing by empty seaside hotels and motels, restaurants and the occasional gas station. Most of this city is abandoned, aside from the military presence roaming the streets, making sure Omega doesn’t try to push through.
“How long are we going to stay in Monterey, Chris?” I ask.
Chris thinks about this.
“As long as they need us here,” he replies. “We’re part of the Alliance now, and we are part of the leadership that represents California. We’ll go where we need to go to stop Omega.”
“It seems like Monterey has got it pretty much together – aside from the assassination attempts,” I say, smiling wryly. “I think we would do more good back in the valley, protecting our agricultural resources and the mountains.”
“Well, it’s possible…” He shakes his head. “Forget it. We’ll go where we need to go. Right now Omega’s trying to get the west coast. I want to stop them. If we can keep the Pacific seaboard out of their hands, we’re going to be doing pretty good. We’ll actually have the upper hand.”
I don’t say what I’m thinking: What if Omega just decides to nuke us all?
What’s stopping them from doing that now?
As if reading my mind, Chris says, “They haven’t wiped us out yet because of two reasons: One, the Pacific Northwest Alliance will retaliate. We do have nuclear warheads on our side, but not as many as the enemy. We want to save those as a last resort, and Omega knows it. They also don’t want their countries wiped out by atom bombs.” He pauses. “The second reason is that they’d rather the rest of the healthy, contributing members of society be enslaved. They’ve already eliminated so much of the population – the elderly, the disabled, the very young – that they’ve got an entire country to build from scratch.”
I shudder.
Omega is evil. Through and through.
Chris touches my knee with his hand, and I wrap my fingers around his, taking comfort in his touch. Something about his presence calms me – always has, probably always will.
“So how long have you known Devin?” I ask as we take a right.
“About a decade. Before you were even in Middle School.” Chris grins. “We started in SEAL training together at the Coronado Naval Station. Wound up coming here for a postgraduate program. And Devin was a great linguist – better than me. He went to the Language Institute, where we were yesterday. That’s his strong point. Communication.”
I almost make a sarcastic comment about it not being Chris’s, but I don’t.
I know better.
“Small world,” I say.
“Not small enough,” Chris replies, sighing.
More silence. Then,
“Do you think my dad is alive?” I ask. “Be honest with me.”
Chris takes his time answering the question, glancing sideways at my expression – which I’m trying very hard to maintain.
“There’s a chance,” he replies, his voice quiet. “But don’t count on it.”
I nod. I have known this since the day the Capitol Building’s dome collapsed. I just didn’t want to admit it. Hearing it said out loud is a form of closure, of meager acceptance.
Chris continues to hold my hand.
What can you say to fix something like this, anyway?
Nothing. There are no words. There is only sadness.
“Cannery Row,” Chris says suddenly. “Haven’t been here in ages.”
We turn left from a small, packed boulevard, heading downhill. There is a large building at the end of the block. Two white smokestacks tower into the air like giant matches, contrasting against the sky. Chris follows Devin’s vehicle around the corner, past a couple of shops, then we pull up to the curb and stop.
“Here we are,” Chris murmurs.
I wonder what we are in for now.
I open the passenger door and step outside. I look down a long street. There is a red cannery building on one side and what looks like a tourist shopping center on the other. A Bubba Gump restaurant sits on the left, abandoned, a smiling shrimp sitting there, waiting for customers that will never return.
“Tourist spot?” I say.
“Yep,” Chris adds.
I follow Chris to Devin’s Jeep. There is a strong United States Naval presence here. Patrols on the sidewalks, vehicles on the streets. Guards on top of every building, keeping the area secure.
“I think it’s safer now than it was before the EMP,” Chris comments.
“True story, bro,” Devin replies. “Come on, this way. The lookout’s in the aquarium.”
They follow the sidewalk, diving between two of the bigger buildings. I’m hit in the face with a burst of cold ocean air. It whips my hair in circles. It feels good, clean. We check in before entering through a couple of glass doors. It is dark here, and we bypass abandoned counters and ticket-kiosks.
“The aquarium, huh?” I say.
“The Monterey Bay Aquarium,” Devin replies. “World famous. Or at least it used to be. The people here…they’ve been able to keep a lot of the creatures alive, like the otters and the sardines…but some of the other stuff…after the EMP, a lot of things died. Couldn’t save everything.”
We enter a large room filled with benches. A giant, life-size sculpture of a whale hangs from the ceiling. To the right, a huge, triple-paned glass tank wraps around the corner of the oversized hall. An otter happily floats on his back in the top of the tank, grasping a shellfish of some sort.
“How do they keep this place running?” I ask. “With all of the people that are dying, how can they spare water and food for animals?”
“Animals live in seawater,” Devin shrugs. “There’s no shortage of that. Most of the animals here have been released, anyway. There are a few that are kept alive because honestly, it keeps peoples’ hopes up. We can still do simple things like save otters, right?” Devin grins. “This place is run by the National Guard, and the animals are cared for by civilian volunteers, otherwise the animals left would be gone.”
I place my fingers on the glass and watch the otter from below. He’s very care-free. He looks like an aquatic teddy bear.
“Oh, to be an otter,” I mutter, only half-joking.
Devin and Chris share a knowing look and continue. The building is surprisingly crowded, brimming with militia and military activity. Soldiers are walking the halls. The aquarium gift shop has been stripped of all souvenirs. It is now a National Guard command post, manned by soldiers. The only things that remain on the walls are the aquarium directories, indicating which levels contain sharks and which contain jellyfish.
I’m still confused as to why we’re here exactly, but I trust Devin and Chris, so I follow them through the first floor, climbing a long staircase, hitting the second level. This level is divided into several sectors, and I recognize officer’s uniforms and militia leaders. I spot Anita Vega, the representative from Mexico and the Commander of the militia group Coyotes. She is standing near a wide, open window that overlooks the bay. I see her talking to Uriah, Vera and Andrew.
“What are they doing here?” I ask, surprised.
“We’re all meeting here today,” Devin explains. “Omega ships aren’t something to be taken lightly. They could be carrying a cruise missile.”
I feel nauseated.
That’s all we need. Another bombing.
I approach the group and tap Uriah on the shoulder. He smiles warmly at me.
“We were worried about you,” he states.
“I was with Devin.”
“That was Chris’s guess.” Uriah looks at Chris, who nods once. “Did he tell you what’s going on?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“We’re practically waiting for them to kick in the front door,” Vera spits, furious. “We should take out those ships immediately. That’s what my mother would do.”
“Your mother, Lieutenant Wright, is dead,” Anita replies, short and clipped. “And regardless of what she would have done, this is not a decision that will be made based on the memory of one woman. This is a decision that will be made in the Alliance, by an elected council of representatives.”
Vera flushes. She opens her mouth to say more, but Chris holds up a hand.
And, as always, Chris is the only person in the world Vera really listens to.
“What do we know about these ships?” Chris asks.
“They’re unidentified,” Anita replies. “They’re over the horizon and they haven’t penetrated the Naval ring around Monterey…yet. Air Force patrols found them. There are three. They seem to be waiting. Just sitting and waiting. It’s very frustrating.”
“They’re there for a reason,” Devin replies.
“Obviously,” Vera says. “They’re letting us know that they’re close.”
“But why?” Anita continues. “That, my friends, is the question. Up to this point, Omega hasn’t done anything that hasn’t been calculated. The EMP, the invasion. Everything has been planned so far in advance, we should know that there could be something behind these ships that’s a lot bigger than any of us think.”
I want to roll my eyes. Anita is merely stating the obvious.
We wouldn’t be meeting here today if we were underrating Omega.
Hope for the best, get ready for the crappy.
That was my motto before the EMP, and it remains true today.
“There’s a Coast Guard Cutter that patrols the shoreline,” Devin says. “They’ve gone up the coast far enough north of Monterey that they’ve seen Omega troop movements on land. A couple of ships bringing new troops in.”
“Where is this happening?” I ask. “I thought the Alliance had secured the west coast.”
“Most of the west coast,” Anita corrects. “We don’t have the manpower to protect every square inch of territory. Besides, up until yesterday, California was not a part of the Alliance’s responsibility. Today it is, and we will do what we can to push Omega out.”
There is a moment of silence. I look out the huge, picture windows facing the bay. I can see for miles, the blue of the ocean only slightly darker than the sky today. I don’t see the Omega ships, but the knowledge that they are out there, waiting, is disconcerting.
I spot Sophia out of the corner of my eye. She is smiling at Elle, who has Bravo in tow. Andrew is approaching them, and they are all talking, friendly.
I wish I could talk like that to Sophia again.
“What do we do in the meantime?” I ask, stating the obvious. “What’s the protocol? Do we take out the ships or wait to see what’s going to happen? To be completely honest, guys, I’d rather not wait for Omega to make the first move. When they do that, people die. Good people. We should be on offense, not defense.”
Anita slowly nods.
Chris tilts his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. I know he agrees with me.
“Come on, folks,” Devin announces. “The Coast Guard is calling.”
“Say hello to the Golden Shark,” Devin says, grinning.
We are standing at the end of a pier that juts into the water, bobbing with each swell of the sea. A Coast Guard cutter is here. It’s not very big – it’s built for speed and efficiency rather than size. It is slim and white. A cabin is perched up front. Windows surround the room, so that the captain can see in all directions.