State of Pursuit

by Summer Lane

  Uriah suddenly takes Chris’s other shoulder and we are dragging him together, outside, into the cold, night air. I stagger out, drop to my knees, and hold my head in my hands. I shake myself and turn back. Uriah and I take Chris further away from the burning helicopter.

  I look at my left wrist. It’s already turning black and blue.

  It could be worse.

  “Help me get him out of here,” I tell Uriah.

  Chris groans and a couple of the men carry an empty stretcher out of the helicopter, which is quickly becoming engulfed in flames. This thing is going to be a pain to escape with. We do a quick assessment of our men – a headcount, a check – and hobble to our feet. The enemy is all around us. We are miles away from the Holding Center, but we are still in Los Angeles. If we are able, we should keep moving. We cannot stop. Not yet.

  Uriah and Andrew carefully move Chris onto the stretcher. My heart sticks in my throat. I’ve never seen Chris down and out. Ever. Not like this.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Vera says.

  A gesture of comfort? I look at her, smiling sadly.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  The night air is a crisp, welcome change from the sweltering confines of the crashed copter. We’re surrounded by trees on all sides.

  “Where are we?” I say.

  “Looks like a park,” Andrew replies. “If we move, we can hide before Omega arrives in full force.”

  “Okay, we’re all accounted for,” I say. “We move, we stay hidden, and we work our way back to the rendezvous point to meet with Derek and his team. I want men on point and men on the flank. I want a rear guard.” I point to two of the stronger militiamen – tall, burly soldiers. “You carry the stretcher.”

  I brush the hair away from Chris’s forehead. He’s burning up.

  We start moving. There is no time to waste.

  “How did you find him?” I ask quietly.

  “Ask yourself a question,” Manny replies. He’s limping, breathing hard. “If Chris Young and Harry Lydell are both gone at the same time, chances are, they’re in the same place, yes?”

  “Possibly,” I reply.

  “When we were moving into the Holding Center,” Manny says, “I noticed some activity on the airfield. They were using a POW transport truck and an official Omega vehicle. I thought it might save us all some time if I took the initiative. I was slowing the team down, anyway,”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “But I wasn’t.” He winks. “They were moving Young into the chopper. Harry, too, but I didn’t see him. I got the feeling that they were transporting him somewhere…more important.”

  “Why would they transport one officer with a District Prefect?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they think Chris is worth it.”

  “No. Harry must have thought it was worth it.” I chew on my bottom lip. “God, Manny. If you hadn’t stopped that chopper…he’d be gone. Our whole mission would have been a waste.”

  “Hijacking a helicopter was a piece of cake when Omega’s attention was on you,” Manny cracks. “Besides, it was a whim. Didn’t have time to explain it, our deadline was a little too tight, my girl.” He briefly puts his arm around my shoulders. “We’re still alive.”

  It’s a statement that’s meant to cheer me up. I don’t feel cheerful. Not yet.

  I only feel sweet, complete relief.

  Chris is here. He’s still alive.

  As we push forward through the city park, the distant echo of sirens is audible. Omega is searching for us, and that is exactly what we had expected. They will find the helicopter – a hulking, melted mass of metal – and hopefully assume that we are dead.

  If Derek can meet us at our rendezvous point within the next twenty-four hours, we will have survived this thing with almost all of our team intact.

  Like Andrew said, we can only hope.

  Sometimes I think even that is a little too optimistic.

  Beverly Hills, California, is no longer a celebrity city. It’s the dwelling place of high-ranking Omega officials. The houses have been taken over by soldiers and patrols. The entire glitzy neighborhood is under control.

  We are careful to avoid it.

  On our way to the rendezvous point, we pass famous streets like Wilshire Boulevard and Sunset Boulevard. Once swanky apartment buildings where only the elite lived are either being occupied by Omega officials or abandoned altogether. Millions of Milkshakes, a celebrity dessert hotspot, is empty. The windows have been blown out. Only the memory remains.

  The famed Beverly Hills sign – which, for as long as I can remember, sat in the midst of a green lawn in the middle of the city – is covered with graffiti and smudge marks.

  Nothing has escaped Omega’s devastating presence.

  We head back to Toluca Lake. Twice during our journey we run into Omega patrols, but we outnumber them and we overpower them easily. By the time dawn is breaking over Hollywood Hills, I am bone tired. I can barely lift my feet and keep my eyes open. Each step is robotic. Even the joy of knowing that we have rescued Chris is not enough to energize my body. I am worried that he might not wake up. I am worried that Derek won’t make it out of Los Angeles.

  Our rendezvous point is a house. A mansion, technically speaking. It’s just outside of Toluca Lake, hidden behind a fence overgrown with shrubs and trees.

  “Alexander?” I say. “Is this the right place?”

  “This is it.” He shoves his boot into a crevice and begins pulling himself over the fence. “Start climbing.”

  “How are we going to get Chris over this thing?” Vera asks, motioning to his still form on the stretcher.

  “We’ll open the gate,” I say simply.

  I dig my heels into the brick wall and use the thick foliage and vines to pull myself up. I reach the top of the wall and study the house. It’s a large two-story mansion. The entire façade has been overgrown with foliage and twisting vines. It’s almost impossible to find the windows.

  I swing my legs over the top of the wall. We follow a cobblestone path to the front gate. We unlock it and swing it open. The rest of the militia cautiously moves inside, Uriah and Andrew bringing Chris in on the stretcher.

  In the early morning sunlight, Chris’s complexion looks pale. Wrong. I press my fingers to his neck, nervously making sure his pulse is still there. It is, and I sigh with relief.

  “Check it out,” I tell my team.

  Wounded and exhausted, I let Uriah and Alexander lead the recon team around and inside the mansion, making sure there are no signs of Omega or unsavory individuals. The scouts report back, and Alexander gives the all-clear signal.

  I cradle my aching wrist. It’s swollen, black and blue. Every step brings a throbbing sensation of pain. We pass the threshold of the front door. It’s cold inside. Musty, dusty. Dark. Rooms full of expensive, dusty furniture. Two sets of stairwells separate from the main hall, leading to an ornate second level.

  “Take Chris upstairs, into one of the bedrooms,” I say. “I’m going to need a medic.” I pause. “Or two.”

  “Roger that, Commander,” Andrew replies.

  “Manny, you tend to that shoulder,” I command.

  He winces, but still offers a smile.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  “And Manny?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “Thank you for getting us out of there,” I tell him. “You saved our lives.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a warm hug. An exhausted hug. One filled with relief and gratitude and disbelief – yes, we’re still alive. Really. Manny smells like sweat and smoke and fuel. He gently returns the hug, then steps away.

  “It was a pleasure, my girl,” he murmurs, watching the men haul Chris on the stretcher up the stairs. “Just make sure he wakes up.”

  “I will,” I say.

  I turn and follow Chris’s still form up the stairwell. After the record-breaking adrenaline of the last few hours, I feel like I’m co
ming down from an epic high. It’s like getting hit by a truck.

  “Here is fine,” I say, motioning to a bedroom on the left. This must have been the master bedroom. There’s a huge bed, a massive dresser and closet, and the carpet is soft beneath my feet. Too soft. I feel like I’m ruining it.

  They lay Chris on the bed. I take a seat on the edge and slip my fingers through his. He doesn’t twitch. He only breathes in and out. In and out. He hasn’t woken again since the helicopter went down.

  I press a soft kiss against his forehead.

  “Please, wake up,” I whisper. “I love you.”

  At this point, my prayers are all I have left.

  Chapter Twelve

  “My brother isn’t big on romantic stuff,” Jeff Young says. “It’s kind of a wonder that he is the way he is with you.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” I reply. “I feel like he loves me, but I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about that kind of stuff. He just…is.”

  “Yeah, that’s Chris,” Jeff agrees, laughing. He’s such a good boy. Good looking, funny, caring, sympathetic. Where Chris is rough, Jeff is sweet, and where Chris won’t discuss things, Jeff opens right up. They are, in so many ways, like night and day. And yet they’re alike.

  “Do you think he cares?” I ask Jeff. I rest my hands on my knees. We’ve been in Sector 20 for two weeks now, and we’re about to roll out to the Chokepoint to face Omega’s five-million man army. Both of us are young, nervous and afraid.

  “Cares about what?” he replies.

  “About me. Do you think he really cares?”

  “Come on, Cassidy. Of course he cares. He wouldn’t have made an effort to rescue you from the labor camp if he didn’t care,” he says. “He wouldn’t be here now.”

  “I don’t want him to stay with me out of some kind of moral obligation to keep me safe,” I sigh. “I want him to want this.”

  Jeff grins, and he takes both my hands in his.

  “Cassidy, my brother loves you,” he says. “He doesn’t say it, but he shows it. You and I both know that.”

  I press my forehead against Jeff’s and take a deep breath.

  “If we get out of this alive,” I promise, “you and I are going to be besties.”

  “We already are, Cassidy.” He kisses my cheek. “We’ve always been.”

  I wake up suddenly, the memory slash dream ringing clearly in my brain. Jeff Young is dead. He’s no longer around for me to confide in. I close my eyes and burrow into the warmth of the pillow, the blankets soft around my shoulders. My wrist is wrapped in thick bandages. It’s painful, but necessary.

  “Cassie.” I feel his breath on my neck before I feel his touch. “Hey, I know you’re awake.”

  I open my eyes and look up, flat on my back. Chris is looking down at me. His face is weary, but he’s smiling. It’s a beautiful sight. His green eyes – those vibrant, electric green eyes – are ringed with pain and tiredness. But he’s awake. And alive.

  “Chris!”

  For the first time in forever, I explode with joy. I haven’t been this happy since I found my father earlier this year. I fling my arms around Chris’s neck and cry, sobbing out of sheer relief and happiness. He presses his fingers against my waist and kisses my neck. “It’s okay,” he says. “Cassie, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Shhh.”

  But when I pull away and study his face, there are tears in his eyes, too.

  “What happened?” I whisper.

  “War happened,” he replies. He gently brushes his lips across my cheeks, catching my tears with his thumbs. “You crazy girl. You shouldn’t have come all this way for me.”

  “I wasn’t alone,” I reply, holding him tightly. I love the way it feels to be in his arms again. I feel safe. Whole. “Everyone here came of their own free will.”

  “So you didn’t bribe anybody into it?” he smiles.

  “Ha. No.” I kiss his forehead, his cheeks. “Oh, my God, Chris. I missed you. I was so worried. I thought you were dead.” I start to cry again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He holds me close, rubbing comforting circles into the small of my back. “You’re amazing, you know that?” My head sinks into the pillow. He gazes at me with an incredibly gentle expression. “Why did you do this, Cassie? You didn’t have to.”

  “Yes, I did.” I trace my finger along his jaw. “I love you. You came for me when I was imprisoned. It was my turn to come for you. I wasn’t going to let you die.”

  “You should have.” Chris looks sad. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

  “That can’t be helped. Not anymore.”

  “It can be helped if I have anything to do with it.”

  “Well, you were a POW, and you didn’t have anything to do with it.” I laugh. “They voted me Commander. Can you believe that? Me. How weird is that?”

  “Not weird at all,” Chris replies solemnly. “It’s always been in you.”

  “Everyone that came with me,” I say, “are all here because they believe in you. They respect you. Because we need you back.”

  “I’m here now.” He presses soft, lingering kisses along my shoulder. “What happened to your wrist?”

  “I sprained it.”

  “I can see that. How?”

  “Bumpy helicopter rides. Always wear a seatbelt.”

  He chuckles. “I’m sorry.” He kisses my fingers. “Cassie, how did you get me out of the Holding Center? I don’t remember anything.”

  “Maybe we should cover that later,” I say, pulling his head down to mine. “Just kiss me.”

  He laughs.

  “Fair enough,” he agrees.

  It’s a good agreement. The best one I’ve had in a long time.

  Our wait at the rendezvous point can only last for so long. Eventually we will have to move on. I hope Derek shows up soon. The longer we wait here, the more of a chance Omega has of finding us.

  Chris’s head is in my lap. We’re sitting in the couch in the back of the bedroom. His wounds have been tended to by the medics. He was suffering from a concussion, extensive bruising from the beatings and torture of Omega interrogation, malnutrition and extreme dehydration when Manny found him in the POW truck outside of the helicopter at the Holding Center. We’ve been at the rendezvous point for six hours, now. Most of the militia team is asleep. We’re exhausted, and most are wounded to one degree or another. If we want to have enough strength to make it back over the Tehachapi Mountains, this is a necessary rest.

  “Tell me everything,” I encourage Chris, twisting his hair around my fingers.

  “It’s not pleasant, Cassidy,” he replies.

  “I think that’s obvious.” I dip my head down and kiss the tip of his nose. “I didn’t come all this way for you to keep things from me. You don’t need to protect me anymore. Those days are over.”

  He gazes up, capturing my hand.

  “Yeah,” he says sadly. “I guess they are.” Silence hangs between us before he finally begins. “Back at the Chokepoint, when I sent you into the drainpipe with Jeff and Sophia,” he starts, “I was right behind you. It was just one of those things. I was shot in the shoulder. Here.” He pulls down the collar of his dark blue tee shirt. There’s the bright red scar of a recent wound. “It nailed me. I just couldn’t make it fast enough. I’m sorry.”

  I stare at the ceiling.

  One of the worst moments of my life was realizing that Chris wasn’t following me out of the battlefield – that I was returning to base without him. It was a nightmare.

  “What about Max?” I ask softly.

  Chris stayed behind to help Max, our resident explosive professional, after he had been wounded. Uriah abandoned both of them on the field. It’s for that reason I’ve had such a hard time forgiving Uriah for his cowardice. You could almost say that it was his fault that Chris was captured.

  “Max is dead, Cassie,” Chris whispers. “There was nothing I could do.”

 
; I close my eyes. Tears burn like acid in the back of my throat.

  Goodbye, Max. You were a good man. You saved my life once.

  “I know,” Chris says, stroking his thumb across my hand. “I’m sorry. Believe me, nobody’s more sorry than I am.” He lets the horrible news sink in for a moment before continuing, “I was pretty banged up. All I know is that they didn’t kill me outright because they knew who I was. Harry gave orders to take me alive, if possible.” He shrugs. “Next thing I know, I’m beaten, knocked down, tied up and in a truck headed south. By the time I was halfway conscious, I was in a cell in the Holding Center. Ten by ten room, no windows, standard jail cell.” He sighs. “Harry’s motives for keeping me alive are a lot more personal than they are critical to Omega’s war effort.”

  “He wanted revenge,” I state. “He always hated you for showing him up when we were camped in the mountains. He hated me, too.”

  “No, I don’t think he hates you,” Chris replies. “I think he wanted you dead merely for the purpose of exacting revenge on me. He knew it would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “Why was he so obsessed?” I ask.

  “Selfish pride,” he says. “Ego. Maybe a little bit of insanity.” He shrugs. “Does it matter? He interrogated me for a week on militia strategy and battle plans. I didn’t give him anything except false leads and nonsense. Nothing.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” I smile. It’s a sad smile, though. “I’m sorry.”

  “It is what it is,” he answers. “I think he realized I was worthless to him for information, but I still made good bait. That’s when he moved me to a different cell. I was in there for almost a week…I think. It’s hard to say.”

  “Manny found you in the end,” I say. “He saw the POW transport truck on the tarmac. If it wasn’t for him, we never would have found you in time.”

  “Harry was leaving?” Chris looks puzzled. “That son of a…he wasn’t kidding.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He kept talking about going ‘up north,’ to some Omega gathering,” he explains. “He was hoping to have both of us there. As trophies of war, maybe. The founders of the militia groups in the central valley? It might have scored him extra points with the high ranking Omega officers.”