State of Pursuit

by Summer Lane

  Almost.

  Less than three miles away, the signature circular skyscraper of Los Angeles towers above the ground. The windows over the top half of the building have been painted red. The white Omega O is visible in the center.

  “I think we found General Headquarters,” I say, sick.

  “That’s the beehive,” Uriah replies. “Wow. They didn’t waste any time making L.A. their home, did they?”

  I shake my head.

  Uriah remains silent for a few moments. Then, “Listen, Cassidy…about the kiss. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” I maintain my crouched position on the roof. In the distance, there is movement. Lots of movement. People? Probably.

  Uriah swallows, resting his fists against his knees.

  “I just…I care about you, Cassidy,” he continues. I glance at his face, hesitating. His expression is one of hope.

  “I know,” I reply.

  And that’s all I say. What else am I supposed to do?

  I don’t want to lead him on. I won’t.

  I jump over the ledge and climb back down the fire escape.

  “Well?” Manny asks.

  “There’s people,” I say. “A lot of them.”

  “All survivors,” Andrew tells us. “But we can bypass them to get to the Holding Center. I think.”

  “You think?” Vera snaps. “You’d better be sure. We can’t risk running into any more gangs.”

  “Hey, I’m just going by Underground intelligence,” Andrew fires back. “It’s not my fault if we walk into a firefight.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault,” I interrupt, silencing them with a look. “We’re going to stick to the plan and keep to this route until we get to the Holding Center.”

  It takes every ounce of self-control in my body to maintain a leader-like glare. To avoid dropping my gaze. I hold eye contact with Vera until she turns away.

  We move around the back of the apartment building, walking down another alley. Garbage and human feces are piled in the gutters. The smell is horrific. We tie scarves around our faces to avoid being overwhelmed with the stench. I stop dead in my tracks, staring at two small human shapes crouched near the gutter. A little girl and what looks like her younger brother is pawing through the debris in the streets. Their clothes are nothing more than torn rags, skin smudged with dirt and grime.

  They freeze, watching us with wide eyes.

  “Oh, my God,” Vera whispers.

  “We should help them,” Uriah says.

  “No,” I reply. “We can’t.”

  “But Commander-”

  “-No.”

  He makes a move to walk toward the children, then thinks better of it. He remains where he is, and we start moving again. The children are still motionless as we pass – almost as if they believe that if they stay still, they won’t be seen. It breaks my heart. Children are starving in the streets, digging through garbage and human waste to survive.

  This is what Omega has done to us.

  It’s just as devastatingly sad as it is infuriating.

  “This is third world status,” Uriah grumbles. “Why did this have to happen?”

  “Because we’re all human,” I sigh. “And human nature sometimes screws everybody over.”

  “They were just children, Cassidy.”

  “I know.” I pat his shoulder. “I didn’t say it was right. It just is.”

  And what I don’t say out loud is that we – as militiamen – are fighting to restore not just humane living conditions, but freedom. We’re already doing our part – and more besides.

  As we continue through the city, the image of the starving children haunts my mind. I try to push it away, focusing on my objective:

  Chris. We’re here to rescue Chris.

  But the further we push, the more afraid I become. Streets and buildings that I was familiar with as a child have been destroyed. A clothing boutique where I bought my first pair of skinny jeans as a fourteen-year-old has been looted, covered with bright, vulgar graffiti. A bakery where I used to meet with my math tutor has been burned out. The faded sign advertising discount scones and cups of coffee is riddled with bullet holes.

  “Anarchy is hell,” Andrew remarks. “Omega didn’t do all this. Citizens did this.”

  “My dad said it was insane,” I reply. “It took him three days to get out of here after the EMP hit.”

  “Was he on foot?”

  “Yeah.”

  He’s silent for a second. Then, “I was in Fresno. When the EMP hit.”

  “What were you doing?” I ask.

  “Watching a movie.” He laughs softly. “Me and my friends. We were at the theater, and all of the sudden the power just goes out. Nobody’s phones are working, nobody’s flashlights are working. The ushers are falling over themselves to get us out of there, and by the time we get home…my family’s not even there. They’re just gone.” He closes his eyes. “I have no idea what happened to them. They just disappeared. The cars were still in the driveway.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, quivering. “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know.” A pained expression crosses his face. “That’s the worst part, I guess. Not knowing.” He stops. “But maybe it’s a good thing, too.”

  Yes. Maybe.

  Sometimes it’s better to be blissfully ignorant of the fate of the people we love, than to know what horrific fate they had to suffer. Or you end up like me, with memories of friends like Jeff Young getting shot on the battlefield.

  I shiver.

  No more of that.

  Vera snorts, “I can’t wait to get out of this Godforsaken place.”

  “We’re almost there,” I whisper. “Almost.”

  We can’t be more than three miles away from the prison, and that knowledge makes my hair stand on end. Once we actually reach the prison, we have to do a quick recon, find a point of entry, infiltrate it, find Chris, get out and survive – all in the timespan of one day. It’s a daunting task, but come hell or high water, I’m here to save Chris.

  And I will not fail.

  Chapter Ten

  The Holding Center.

  It looks exactly like the picture Alexander showed us. It sits on the corner of a boulevard in downtown Los Angeles. It’s a basic jail structure, but an Omega symbol is now painted above the doorway, and the street rumbles with activity. Omega trucks are parked outside. Patrols make their rounds through the area.

  A small aircraft base is stationed a block away from the Holding Center. It’s an open area of asphalt and cement. The three warehouses in the back were previously marked with a storage company’s insignia. It has now been replaced with an Omega symbol. Omega has cleared the entire area to make a runway and landing strip. I can clearly see two black helicopters from here.

  We are crouched on top of a five-story building two blocks away, studying the layout. Alexander is on my right, Andrew is on my left. Uriah, Derek and Vera are silent as we scope out our surroundings. The techies – three people, including Andrew – review the coordinates and blueprints of the building for the hundredth time.

  “Distraction, not destruction,” Manny says in a low voice. “That’s the name of this game.”

  “It might turn into destruction if we screw up,” Vera replies.

  “We won’t,” I say with confidence that I don’t feel.

  My heart is beating wildly in my chest. Chris is inside the building just two blocks away! He’s so close…yet so far. I take a deep, steadying, calming breath and close my eyes. The fact that we have made it this far without dying is a testament to the fact that A) we’re a highly skilled militia rescue unit or B) we’re just lucky.

  “So,” Vera says. She looks at me. “The plan, Commander?”

  A faint breeze rustles my hair. I shove my bangs out of my eyes as silence falls over the group.

  You know the plan, make it work, Chris’s voice whispers.

  “Okay,” I say. “He
re we are. We’re alive and we’re still very capable of kicking Omega’s butt. We’ll have to use a little finesse, though. Distraction, not destruction, like Manny says.” I stare at the Holding Center. “Thanks to Alexander, we know where the patrols are and around how many guards will be inside. Our advantage is that we’re small, fast, and know how to hit hard. If we create enough confusion, Omega won’t know what hit them. Our disadvantage is that we don’t know where Commander Young will be. He could be anywhere in the building, with any of the POWs. Finding him will be time consuming, and that’s where the element of distraction comes in handy.”

  “A few of you will keep the guards busy at the front of the building,” I continue. “While the rest of us will infiltrate the building from the rear entrance. It’s the easiest place to penetrate.”

  “I love being the distraction,” Derek comments, smiling dryly.

  “Yeah, you do,” Andrew replies, smiling a little. “You’re going to use every trick up your sleeve to keep them at the front of the building. We may not know exactly where Chris is, but we do know that the prisoners are in the back of the building, in the cells. That means we need to keep the guards away from that area.”

  “I’m planning on it,” Derek mutters. “Where will you be, Andrew?”

  “With me,” I say.

  “Alexander?”

  “He’ll be with me, too,” I tell him. “Alexander knows the layout of the building best.” I pause. “Derek and his team will meet up with us at a rendezvous point once they’re done with their part of the mission. There will be too much chaos to try to hook up in the middle of the fight.”

  The cold heat of adrenaline burns my gut. An all-too familiar feeling.

  Will I ever get used to this sort of thing?

  “I’d guess we have about twenty minutes,” I say. This is something that we already know, but I don’t want anybody to forget that we’re on a tight schedule. There is no room for mistakes. Not here.

  “We can keep them busy and distracted for a long time,” Derek replies, looking at me, “but that’s only as long as they don’t bring in backup.”

  “Which is why we’ll only have about twenty minutes,” I say. “If we can keep this isolated, we’ll be good to go.”

  Despite the adrenaline rushing through my body, I feel steady – calm, almost. A controlled, directed anger. It’s a brand new feeling. And I like it.

  “And if we can’t find Chris in twenty minutes?” Uriah asks.

  It’s the unspoken question, and now it hangs heavy in the air.

  “Then we’ll free who we can and get out,” I reply firmly. “And we’ll think of another way.”

  In my heart, I know that if we fail, there won’t be another way. Omega will expect a second rescue attempt, and they will be waiting for us to try something. Harry Lydell would kill Chris. It would mean game over.

  This is something that everyone knows, but nobody wants to say it.

  There’s no reason to.

  “We’ll wait until it gets dark,” I continue. “Remember, in and out. Make it quick. Improvise, adapt and overcome. I don’t want any friendly casualties. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Uriah echoes.

  “Good.”

  I look around at the many faces watching me. All of them, good men and women – even the ones I don’t necessarily get along with on a personal level. They’re risking their lives for Chris – and for our cause.

  “Vera,” I say. “I want you with me.”

  She doesn’t reply. She simply nods, her expression a perfect poker face.

  Life is short. It’s even shorter when you’re a soldier. Do the right thing, because tomorrow, you might not get the chance.

  The alley behind the Holding Center is big enough for prisoner transport trucks and buses. Steam rises off the damp, rocky asphalt. An Omega transport truck is parked near the rear entrance – a rollup metal door, ten feet tall. It’s secure, so prisoners can’t merely jump out of the truck once the door opens and run away. The sound of muffled voices and shouted orders echo off the walls of the buildings.

  We wait. More than anything, I want to jump up, force my way inside the building and get this over with. But doing that would be suicidal. If we don’t stick to the plan, we’ll all die – and that would suck. Big time.

  “How much longer?” Vera hisses.

  “It’s getting dark. Be patient,” I reply.

  Manny is picking at his shirtsleeve, preoccupied with a loose thread on the cuff. He looks relaxed, as always. I envy his ability to shut the stress out. The ability to simply be.

  “You know,” Manny whispers, “if we get away with this, it may be the first time Los Angeles has ever had a successful downtown jailbreak.”

  “So we’re making history,” Uriah says.

  “Glorious history.” Manny grins. “The best kind, of course.”

  In the stagnant white noise of the back alley – the hum of the Holding Center’s generator, the echo of Omega voices – a detonation interrupts the rhythm of sound. The ground shakes a little. It’s so familiar that I hardly blink.

  “That’s our cue,” I announce.

  A red security light begins blinking in the back of the building. The rear entrance rumbles upward a few beats later and fifteen black-clad Omega troops pour into the alley. All young. All men. All very foreign.

  Each of my team members has an assigned sector – a specific job, a specific point of focus. I am completely shocked that fifteen troopers have flooded out of the building – I hadn’t expected this much luck.

  Nevertheless, my heart twists in my chest as I bring my rifle up to my shoulder and train my sights on one of the fifteen troops. Vera, Manny, Uriah, Alexander and myself each pull the trigger on our weapons. A sporadic smattering of rifle fire fills the air, echoing off the alley walls. Troops collapse at odd angles, dead before they even hit the ground. It’s eerie. Our aim is so perfect that there is no screaming. Just fifteen gunshots and fifteen dead patrols on the asphalt, pooling in blood.

  “Go, go, go!” I yell.

  This is our chance. The rear entrance is open. We were not expecting this – I was expecting that we would have to blow it open.

  Thwap!

  A bullet whizzes by my head. I jerk to the side and roll into a crouch. A guard is standing in the open doorway, frantically making an effort to close the entrance. Uriah takes him down. The dead trooper hits the ground with a thud. We push inside the door. And we move on toward the objective.

  Good job, Derek! I think.

  We stack and go, clearing the hallway corners and taking out moving targets.

  It’s cold and stale. Yelling and gunfire can be heard within the concrete confines of the building. The epicenter of the noise isn’t too far away, either. Just at the front of the building, where Derek and his team are creating a distraction.

  “Right, right, right!” I say.

  This floor is empty. We veer down a wide hallway. Two Omega guards are fumbling in the corner for their weapons, probably left behind to guard the back of the building. My team is deadly. Vera and Uriah kill them instantly with controlled rifle fire.

  Perfect.

  This hallway is filled with cells. It’s a standard county jail, with cement flooring and metal bars. The stench of vomit is powerful. We spread into the area, breathing hard, sweating. Check left, check right, scan for threats and the objective – Chris. The first cell holds a skinny man, the second cell holds a woman covered in hundreds of lacerations. My brain registers the fact that this is a torture chamber, but I have no time to dwell on it. We are moving too quickly.

  In all, there are ten cells – all of them hold prisoners that I do not recognize.

  “Bingo!” Uriah yells. There is a main switch at the end of the hallway – a literal emergency door release in case of fire. I slam my fist against it and the cell doors unclick. They are unlocked. The prisoners seem dazed at first – unable to believe that their cells have been opened.


  I don’t have time to make a speech.

  “Keep going!” I shout. “Move it!”

  Panic hasn’t seized me…yet. I was expecting to find Chris here, on the first floor. I don’t recognize any faces. None. Is he dead? Did Harry Lydell already order his execution?

  Alexander grabs my arm and says, “This isn’t everybody.”

  I nod and move swiftly to the stairs.

  A lone guard is coming around the corner. I catch the movement of his body out of the corner of my eye. A symphony of keys jingle on his belt. I automatically shoot him in the chest, never hesitating for a moment. He hits the ground with a thud, a strangled scream still in his throat.

  I drop to my knees and yank the keys from his belt.

  We run through the hallway, taking another corridor that dives to the left. This one is longer than the others, and more heavily guarded. We quickly kill six more guards, and as the Omega casualties pile up, the timer in my head starts ticking faster. The more security we encounter, the longer it takes to reach our objective, and we’ve got just minutes to hit, rescue and run.

  I spot something on the wall, above a door.

  “Whoa, look up!” I say, skidding to a halt.

  It reads: DIVISION FIVE

  A cellblock we haven’t searched yet.

  I share a glance with Manny.

  We go inside.

  The hallway here is short with fifteen compact cells. Each one is nothing more than a door with a small slit for a window.

  “Chris!” I shout. “Where are you?”

  I pull back the metal sheet on the window and peek inside the first cell. An emaciated figure is sitting in the corner. A woman. An officer.

  I toss the keys to Uriah.

  I say, “Get them out.” Then, “Chris Young! Are you here?”

  Uriah discards the keys that he took from the guard in the hallway and finds the main switch to the cell doors – they open, just like they did on the floor below. The prisoners inside the cells are starved, beaten, and bruised. Many of them are covered in scabs and dried blood. The living conditions remind me of the Omega slave labor camp I was imprisoned in.