by Summer Lane
“Not by a long shot,” I answer.
“Hey, passengers,” Manny says, walking into the hall.
“Um, hello, pilot,” Vera nearly yells. “Shouldn’t you be flying the plane?”
“Arlene has taken over for a moment,” he replies. “She’s not as good as me, of course, but she’ll do.” He laughs at his own joke. “The turbulence is over for the time being. Enjoying the flight?”
I lift my shoulders.
“Ah, I see.” He strolls over to Elle and ruffles her hair. “Elle, don’t be so asocial. Come join the party. Uriah and Cassidy are nearly getting ready to pop open the champagne bottles.”
Elle slowly stands up and sits closer, never saying a word.
She doesn’t look to be in the partying mood.
That makes two of us.
“Why all the somber faces?” Manny asks. “Life isn’t that bad, is it?”
No one answers.
“Well,” he sighs. “Apparently I’ve been outvoted. If anyone is interested, we should be there in about an hour. Hang tight, ladies and gentlemen. Manny will get you there safe and sound. I hope.”
He laughs again and saunters back to the cockpit.
“Has he always been this crazy?” Vera asks Elle.
Elle shrugs.
“As far as I know,” she replies.
“Figures.” Vera settles back into her seat. “We’re all crazy.”
I don’t disagree.
Chapter Six
I look out the window. The crystalline blue gray peaks of the high Sierra Nevada Mountains glimmer in the sunshine below. The caps are tipped with powdery snow. The Kings River carves a deep wrinkle through the canyon. Patches of green and brown smear the canvas of the mountain range. It is beautiful. It is huge.
“We’re here,” Uriah whispers.
A gorgeous collection of smaller peaks surround an icy lake, similar in size and shape to a pothole. Manny circles the lake several times, getting lower and lower. Trees are sparser up here. The higher elevation means less oxygen, and less tree growth.
“Where’s the airstrip?” Elle asks, leaning forward.
“Who knows?” Vera says.
“I’m glad we all trust Manny completely,” I comment.
Vera huffs.
As we get closer to the ground, I see that a strip of earth has been cleared away next to the lake, smooth and long. It is a landing strip, and it is nearly impossible to see from the air.
The plane slowly descends, and I can hear Manny hooting and hollering from the cockpit – and Arlene’s terse responses.
We dip forward as the front wheels touch the ground. The plane lands, and we are coasting down the small airstrip. We slow down quickly. I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand up.
“Let me do the talking,” Arlene says, stepping out of the cockpit.
I raise an eyebrow.
“I thought you brought me here to talk,” I reply.
“Well…yes. But still. At first.” She touches my shoulder. “Trust me, Commander.”
I make no promises.
The door on the plane opens. Manny finishes up in the cockpit and steps into the narrow hall. “See? I got us here in one piece, didn’t I?”
“Thank God,” Arlene murmurs.
As the door opens, I feel a rush of freezing cold air. I brace myself. Clear, unfiltered sunlight hits my face. Manny and Uriah pull out the staircase. I look outside, seeing some figures on the tarmac.
“Friends of yours?” I ask Arlene.
“Allies, yes,” she replies.
She steps outside, descending the staircase. I share a sideways glance with Vera and Uriah – they return it. I don’t have to say anything to them to communicate the fact that we should not let our guard down. Not for a second.
I follow her.
There is snow everywhere. The small, icy lake sits in the middle of a ring of sharp, jagged rock formations. The air is thin, and I can smell the damp mountain soil. Wet, thick clouds swirl around the tips of the rocky peaks.
I walk down the staircase. There are no trees. Everything is rocky and barren, cold and deserted. The figures standing near the edge of the tarmac are dressed in light-colored fatigues. Guards. They are well armed. About ten of them, male and female.
In the middle of the guards, a tall, burly man stands with a cigar wedged between his teeth. I freeze, staring.
No. No way. Please tell me I’m imagining this.
“Colonel Rivera?” I say.
He taps the ashes of his cigar on his finger. His dark, angry eyes say everything I need to know.
“You’re involved with this?” I demand, storming forward. “What are you doing here, Colonel?”
I have not seen this man since the bombing of the Capitol Building in Sacramento. I do not like him. I never have. I probably never will.
“Arlene?” Vera says, folding her arms.
Arlene gives me a weak smile.
“I’m sorry,” she replies. “Colonel Rivera has been a part of the Sky City operation for a long time. After the incident in Sacramento, he was relocated here, with me.”
I stare at him.
So this is the man I was sent to convince to send us backup?
The man who denied backup to the militias during the Battle of the Grapevine?
The man who left Chris to die at the hands of Harry Lydell and Omega?
I am red with rage. Infuriated that Arlene kept this little bit information from me. I turn to her, and I know she can see the fury in my expression. She swallows. But I can tell by Manny and Elle’s reactions that they are just as surprised as I am to see the Colonel.
Arlene hadn’t told them, either.
“What’s the matter, Colonel?” Manny says. “Has it been so long that you don’t remember our names anymore?”
“Welcome to Sky City,” he says. His voice is tight, controlled. “Commander Hart, Lieutenant Wright, Lieutenant True. Manny Costas.” He jams the cigar between his teeth. “I trust your flight in was enjoyable?”
He looks directly at me when he says this.
“You know why we’re here.” I briefly salute him, determined to keep this professional. I will not explode.
I turn to Arlene and say, “He does know, right?”
She nods.
“We’re going to have to keep you under guard until we get into Sky City,” Colonel Rivera says. “Sorry, but you’re the first outsiders to enter in years, and we’ve got to be careful.”
I think there is a note of glee in his voice when he talks.
“We’re not giving up our weapons, if that’s what you’re asking,” Uriah says. He stands next to me, his dark hair catching the breeze. “That’s not an option.”
I grip the knife on my belt.
I do not waver in my cold, menacing stare. Colonel Rivera must see the danger in my eyes because he says, “You can keep your weapons. But we need to get inside. We’ve already been out here too long.”
I walk near Uriah, and I am surprised to see that half of the guards with Colonel Rivera stay with the plane. Arlene whispers, “They’re going to hide it. We like to keep everything invisible from the air, in case Omega does any flyovers.”
The other five guards remain with us. They are silent, stoic.
“Are you in charge here, then?” I ask Colonel Rivera.
“I am,” he replies.
“No one is necessarily in charge,” Arlene corrects. “We take directions from the Pacific Northwest Alliance, from the militias.”
“But you have a chain of command, correct?” I ask. “A structure of leadership of some sort?”
“Yes, but…” she trails off. “You’ll see.”
We walk uphill. It is so silent here. No background noise. No helicopters or fighter jets roaring over our heads. No rumble of Humvees. No clink of metal or conversation. Nothing but the sound of the wind and the crunch of our boots against the snow and rocks.
“Where are we going?” Vera demands.
We re
ach the top of the slope, round a corner, and there is a large rock shelf here. It overhangs nearly twenty feet, putting the sheer, slippery cliff in the shadow of the shelf. There is a rocky path along the bottom of the cliff. We follow it, and I keep my hand hovering over the gun strapped to my thigh, uneasy in this open environment.
There is a grove of trees to the left of the cliff, and for the first time since arriving, I see signs of security. A tall, nearly invisible metal fence threads through the pines, topped with coils of wicked barbed wire. I see three camouflaged lookout towers hidden in the trees.
“How many snipers do you have guarding the perimeter?” I ask.
“More than meets the eye,” Rivera replies.
He does not elaborate, purely because he knows it will irritate me.
Or at least, that’s how it comes across.
We come to a large section at the bottom of the rock cliff. Up close, it is obvious that it is a steel door that has been painted the same color as the rock, but from a distance, it’s invisible. There is a smooth, black panel on the wall. Colonel Rivera places his palm against it. It scans his hand.
“I haven’t seen that kind of technology since before the EMP,” Manny comments. “Arlene used to have one of those cell phones that scanned your fingerprint to access the home screen.” He shrugs. “Different times.”
Arlene tilts her head, verifying the truth of his story.
When the hand scanner is done, it glows green, and the airlock steel entrance opens with a hiss. It slides open, and then I see a long, dark chamber glowing with lights. They flicker orange against the walls.
We step inside, and the airlock shuts quickly behind us.
It seals with an echoing boom, and I get a feeling of claustrophobia.
We are locked in.
*
I watch the burning orange of the sun touch the tips of the pine trees. I sit on the front steps of the cabin called Bear Paw, listening to Sophia shuffle around inside, arranging our things. The meadow to the left of the cabins is covered with soldiers. They are playing a game, tossing Frisbees back and forth, laughing and hollering at the top of their lungs.
I watch them, wishing I felt like joining in.
I feel too tired, though. Plus, my shoulder is still healing from a gunshot wound. It will be sore for a few more days, at least.
“You look depressed,” Sophia says in a singsong voice.
I don’t look behind me.
“I am,” I reply. “I don’t deny it. I’ve got issues.”
“What kind of issues?”
“I-got-shot-in-the-shoulder issues,” I say, grinning. “It sucks.”
“I’ll bet.” Sophia walks outside and takes a seat beside me on the steps. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You didn’t kill Kamaneva,” she says. “You hesitated. Why?”
Kamaneva, the commanding officer of the labor camp.
The woman that very nearly killed me.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I guess I just didn’t want to stoop to her level.”
“But you’ve killed other Omega soldiers. Why was she different?”
I look into Sophia’s eyes, and I see genuine sincerity in her question.
“I felt sorry for her,” I say at last. “She was so unhappy, so bitter. I think she would have been happy to be killed. I didn’t want to give her that. I wanted to believe that she could change.”
“People like that don’t change,” Sophia mutters.
I shrug.
“Maybe not,” I say. “But I keep hoping. Because people who change are going to be the ones who save the world these days.”
Sophia pulls her knees up to her chest.
“I don’t know,” she answers. “You could be right.”
I nod.
“Could be.” I move, wincing. My shoulder is extra sore tonight. “Sometimes I feel like there’s a lot more going on here than just a war, though. More than just a takeover. It’s an annihilation.”
Sophia stares at me, then looks back at the meadow.
A yellow Frisbee whizzes over our heads and someone sprints after it.
“That’s scary,” she says.
“Yeah,” I agree. “But it would be scarier if we weren’t willing to fight it.”
I intend to fight it.
Every day. Until I die.
Or until someone kills me.
*
The orange lights flicker against the dark, steel walls. The wide hallway slopes downward. We are descending into the mountain. As I follow Arlene and Colonel Rivera, I never remove my hand from my knife. I am not afraid, but I am not at ease. I am somewhere between the two.
After a few hundred feet, we come to another steel door. There are two guard posts here, and two guards. They are dressed in standard camouflage uniforms.
They have been expecting us, by the looks of it.
The two guards salute the Colonel and the doors slide open. I figure that someone must be opening them from the other side, because there is nothing out here that would help anyone gain access through these doors – except maybe a cruise missile.
When the doors open, I squint my eyes, nearly blinded by the sudden flow of light. Before us, there is a bunker that must span an entire football field in length. Huge hallways curve in a circle, and above our heads, there is a concave ceiling showering us with white, artificial light.
I’m impressed, but I say nothing.
I look at Elle. She clutches Bravo’s harness and catches my eye. She doesn’t speak, either, but she nods. Slowly. She is impressed, too.
“Well, this is quite a tin can, Arlene,” Manny says.
“It’s much more than that,” she replies. “The bunker descends twenty levels deeper into the mountain. We have our generators but mainly rely on geothermal energy from the volcanic heart of this mountain to power the base. We have our own food, hydro-farming and meat production. We even have our own weapons manufacturing. Sky City was built to last centuries in the event of a disaster, whether it was a foreign invasion or a nuclear bomb.”
Soldiers in Sky City camouflage uniforms scurry to and fro. They don’t even notice that we are here, but occasionally someone glances up and looks at Uriah, Manny, Elle and myself.
“This way,” Colonel Rivera mutters.
He seems agitated, and I don’t blame him.
I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me.
But at least we have enough respect for each other to avoid getting into a fist fight – or something stupid like that.
I follow Colonel Rivera down a narrow steel walkway that cuts through the center of the circular bunker. There is an elevator here. The Colonel calls it, the doors open, and we step inside.
“You call it Sky City,” Elle says to Arlene. “But there’s no sky.”
“It’s in the sky,” Arlene replies, giving Elle a loving smile. “We are hidden in the clouds.”
“You’re hidden in the rocks,” Manny murmurs.
“How do you get recruited for Sky City?” I ask, curious.
“We come to you,” Arlene tells me. “Sky City recruits soldiers secretly. I was recruited when I was young, working with the National Guard. They recruited Manny, also.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You never said anything about Sky City,” I say.
“I didn’t know it really existed,” he replies, shrugging.
“Nobody at our level did, until the EMP,” Arlene explains. “And even then, it was only a rumor. We have bases all over the country, but I was never brought in. Not until my home was destroyed by Omega. Then I was relocated here.”
The elevator stops at the 12th sub-level. I have to yawn, keeping the pressure from building up in my ears. The doors open, and this level is not as busy as the others. A red 12 is painted on the wall. I step outside. The air is cool, but it smells artificial.
“Smells like plastic,” Elle comments.
“We fi
lter the air,” Arlene says. “It’s a little dry, but it’s clean.”
There is hardly anyone on this level. I see a sign that says Officers’ Quarters. We pass it, and continue down the curving hallway to another sign. This one reads: Meeting Rooms.
Colonel Rivera pushes one of the doors open and we step into a spacious meeting room. There is a long, dark table and office chairs set up here.
“Well,” Colonel Rivera says. “Go on, Commander. Or should I say Senator? Are you still playing both parts?”
I resist the urge to sling back a stinging retort.
Instead, I reply, “What can I say? I enjoy multitasking, Colonel.”
I walk to the table. I look at Arlene. “You brought me here to convince your military commander that the West Coast needs reinforcements – strong, capable reinforcements who already understand Omega’s fighting tactics. Colonel Rivera already knows this.”
I look at Elle.
“I know that you brought your niece with you because she’s family and you wanted to keep her safe,” I continue. “But you don’t need me here. The Colonel knows what’s going on down there – if he doesn’t send us recruits, that’s his fault for condemning us all to death. There’s nothing I can say that will change his mind.”
I glare at Rivera as I say this, and he returns it.
But he does not argue the point.
Arlene takes a seat in a chair.
“I didn’t know that you were formerly acquainted with Colonel Rivera,” she admits.
“You should have,” I say.
“She’s not the all-seeing eye,” Manny intervenes. “Sky City doesn’t know the connection between every single human being on the face of the planet. For example, they weren’t even aware that my own niece was running around in the militias. Nobody told me.”
“That was because I kept a low profile,” Elle says, almost under her breath.
“Commander Hart,” Colonel Rivera booms, “while you’re correct in your assumption that I don’t want to send my recruits down the mountain – I don’t believe we’ll do you much good – I am willing to cut you a deal.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You being here is fortuitous, although I’d prefer Chris Young.” He balances his cigar between his thumb and middle finger. “I will give you all the recruits you need, if you do me a favor in return.”