State of Chaos (Collapse Series)

by Summer Lane

  Omega must be hungry or they wouldn’t let us work together.

  This is the first sign of weakness I’ve seen from them.

  “Omega is an alliance,” the young man says, following us. “You’re dead on about that.”

  “Look, we probably shouldn’t be talking,” Sophia replies, nervous.

  “I’ve been here for three months,” the man answers, cracking a smile. “Trust me, if you keep your voices down and close your mouth when the guards walk by, you’ll be fine.”

  I climb up the ladder and crane my neck to see how many oranges we’ve got left. After five days, I’m sick of seeing oranges. I’ll never be able to eat one again.

  “Okay then,” I say, careful. “What do you know about Omega?”

  “Well,” he replies, “I know what you know. But I’ve heard different rumors, so I have a slightly different theory.”

  “Do tell,” Sophia says, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Omega is like an umbrella,” he explains. “Underneath it are several different forces working together, but only one of those forces are responsible for the EMP. You know that an EMP is caused by a nuclear explosion in the atmosphere, yes?”

  We nod.

  “You have to ask yourself, who in the world today has the firepower and the gall to do something like that to the United States?” he pauses. “I’m from London, but I was living in Hollywood when the EMP struck. Omega is probably an alliance of countries, and one of those countries sent out the nuclear blast that destroyed our technology.”

  “That’s kind of what I was already saying,” I deadpan. “Just...with a little more detail.”

  He chuckles.

  “I’m Harry, by the way,” he says. “Harry Lydell, but who cares about your last name these days, right? Who are you?”

  “I’m Cassidy and this is Sophia,” I reply. “Welcome to the club.”

  “Club?”

  “Yeah. Our club.” Sophia and I share a secret grin. “You’re in.”

  Harry looks confused, but he doesn’t question us. He ends up being a good worker. Fast, quiet, observant. Smart. The guy has some interesting theories about Omega and the source of the EMP, which makes my curious ears perk up. Anything is more interesting than manual labor, anyway. And to be honest, I’m glad to have somebody else to talk to. It’s been just Sophia and me since we were smashed together in the semi-truck, and it’s nice to have a newbie to get to know.

  The three of us stick together through the day, trading conspiracy theories and complaints about our crappy environment. It makes the long hours more bearable, and it gives me hope. At least somebody besides Sophia and I are actually trying to figure Omega out. Most of the prisoners here are zoned out, desperate and terrified.

  Well, I’ve got plenty of fear to go around, but I haven’t zoned out. Omega might be scary, but they’re also infuriating. They make me angry. This is our home, and they have no right being here, treating us like dirt.

  I want them taken down. Hard.

  And the first step towards taking down an enemy is familiarization. Know what you’re up against. That’s what Chris would tell me. Learn everything you can about your opponent, their strengths and weaknesses, and then attack. Not that I’m planning on taking down the entire Omega army, of course, but it gives me a sense of security to know that Omega is very human and very real. If they can be figured out, then they can be destroyed.

  And that wouldn’t hurt my feelings.

  Not one bit.

  Chapter Five

  Omega should just go ahead and give classes in world domination, because they’ve got the formula down to a science. I don’t know how far their invasion extends – or whether or not the United States is the only one affected by it – but I do know this: they’re smart. Organized. Utilizing resources that are already here, enslaving the population that was already in place. Things are working out fine and dandy for them, while the civilian population is being forced to march through cold showers and do manual labor.

  Yeah. I’d say people like me could have been better prepared for a situation like this. It’s weird, too. I was probably the only person in Los Angeles with an emergency go-bag, a getaway car and a pre-planned emergency rendezvous point when the EMP hit. I was ready and prepared. Naïve? Yes. Scared? You bet. But I was actually ready. Apparently somebody needs to write a survival manual about labor camps, because now I’m not prepared. I’m at Omega’s mercy, and that seriously ticks me off.

  I hate being bossed around.

  So yeah. Enslavement isn’t my exactly my fantasy job.

  But there are things I can do to keep myself alive and well while some of the other prisoners shrivel up and waste away. For one thing, mental stimulation is a big part of keeping myself sharp. I play games with myself. I solve riddles. I recite memory verses. Whatever I can do to keep my mind working. Sophia and I tell each other stories, everything from the Three Little Pigs to Goodnight Moon just to avoid going crazy. Or maybe the fact that we’re reciting Goodnight Moon out loud is a sign of our insanity. Whatever. It helps the time pass quicker.

  The food that we get around this place isn’t enough to keep me healthy and strong, either, so Sophia and I have started eating some of the oranges we pick. It’s a potentially lethal situation, because if we get caught eating the food that we’re supposed to be picking, we could very well be killed. Just like that. And I have a feeling Kamaneva would dance a Russian jig over my grave – not that she’s got issues or anything.

  The oranges are full of Vitamin C, though, which keeps us healthier than the rest of the prisoners. But I’m sure we’re not the only ones bending the rules. I mean, if you don’t fly under the radar, you’ll die. You’ll burn out and turn into a hollow shell of yourself. I’ve seen it happen.

  An older woman named Jenna arrived at the labor camp a few days ago, and she’s already wasting away. She’s retreated far inside of herself, refusing to talk to anybody or eat anything. She worked until she dropped unconscious in the fields and the guards kicked her awake, forcing her back to her job. She’s given up hope. She’s already dead.

  I don’t want to turn into that.

  I want to live.

  I want to see Chris again. And my dad. And the Youngs.

  It’s not like it’s the ultimate dream to hang around a death camp for the rest of my life. More like the ultimate nightmare. Because a labor camp will eventually get you to one place: an early grave. Chris would agree with that. He’d tell me to figure a way out of this mess.

  Well, I’m trying. There’s not a lot I can do with Kamaneva and her hyperactive guard dogs stalking our every move. It’s not like I can just smuggle in the back of a pickup truck and sneak out the front gate, either. Omega checks and double-checks every vehicle that goes in and out of the camp.

  I’m stuck.

  Stuck, stuck, stuck.

  “We’re not stuck,” Sophia corrects. “We’re enslaved. There’s a difference.”

  “Care to elaborate, oh philosophical one?”

  “Stuck implies that we can’t move because we just can’t or won’t. We’re actually being temporarily detained by evil people.”

  “Like I said. We’re stuck.” My fingers close around an orange, and judging by the amount of growling my stomach is doing, I could really use a little bite of it. “You know what I would give for a big greasy taco right now?”

  “What would you give?” she sighs.

  “I have no idea. Anything, probably.”

  “Me too.”

  Well, not anything. I wouldn’t be willing to lose my life over it. Then again, there’s no telling what I might be willing to go through for a taco. Enter my current climate of reasoning, a testament to the fact that I might be taking a ride on the crazy train a lot sooner than I think if I don’t get out of this place.

  “Hey,” Harry whispers, approaching us. His bag is slung over his shoulder. “Want to know what I just heard?”

  “Let me guess,” I say
. “Kamaneva’s going to let us have pudding cups with our meals. Oh, joy. I’m thrilled.”

  “No.” He frowns, looking puzzled. Harry doesn’t get my humor. “I overheard some of the guards discussing the backup generators.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re going to start using them for cold storage.”

  “Why?” Sophia asks.

  “So they can store all of this food we’re harvesting for them,” I say. “They’ve got to be saving this for somebody, because they’re not shipping all of it out anymore.”

  “Who do you think is coming?” Harry asks.

  “I told you before. Backup.”

  “But where is their backup coming from?” Sophia presses.

  I wipe the sweat off my forehead, thinking.

  “We’re on the West Coast, right?”

  “Duh.”

  “It was a rhetorical question, genius.” I roll my eyes. “What country is closest to us?”

  Harry shrugs.

  “Oh, come on. China, anybody?”

  “You don’t know that China is sending backup troops for Omega. We don’t even know who Omega is anyway,” Sophia replies. “If we don’t know who Omega is, then there’s no way we can know who’s helping them.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “All you have to do is think about all the countries that might have a motive to attack the United States. That’s, like, the entire universe.”

  “So you’re saying the whole world is against us?”

  “No. I’m saying I think we can be pretty sure that Russia is involved, and maybe North Korea. North Korea doesn’t have enough troops or the technology to invade the United States on their own. China does. China’s entire population is an army.”

  “Then which one of those countries sent out the EMP? And who’s nuking the East Coast – if that’s even true?” Sophia asks.

  “Does it really matter?” I say. “If they’re all working together, then it was a joint effort. Hooray for teamwork, I guess.”

  “Where’s the rest of the world?” Sophia sighs. “What happened to them? Are we the only country affected by this? Are we, like, a giant dark spot on planet earth?”

  “That’s a good question,” I admit. “I would think one of our allies would come help us out...but not even our own military can help us, so maybe that’s a stupid question.” I stop and look up at Harry, who’s watching me with a curious expression on his face. “What?”

  “Nothing.” A small smile appears on his face. “You’re just very good at figuring things out, that’s all.”

  “Gee, thanks. Do I get an A for effort?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you ever think about escaping?” Sophia whispers suddenly.

  Harry and I stiffen at the mention of the “e-word.” That’s a trigger word. Instant death. I lower my voice. “Um, heck yeah. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.”

  “It can’t be done, can it?” she stares off through the trees, her gaze stopping at the barbed wire fencing. “We really are...stuck.”

  “Nah.” I nudge her shoulder. “I’m willing to give it the old college try at some point, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t want to end up dead.”

  “She’s got a valid point,” Harry says.

  “We’ll end up dead either way,” I point out. “Either we’ll be worked to death or we’ll die escaping. One of these days...” I trail off, knowing it’s wiser to keep my mouth shut. Just because the idea of escaping is an attractive thought doesn’t mean I should go blabbing about it. You never know who you can trust, especially in a place like this. It’s like high school on super steroids. Backstabbers, cliques, and nasty teachers all thrown into the same crummy mix. Only the penalty for messing up is a lot worse than suspension.

  It’s sudden death.

  Fun times, right?

  At the end of the day when our work is finally done, the guards round us up and march us back into the school compound. But instead of heading towards the cafeteria like we always do, we stop in what used to be the outdoor cafeteria. Now it’s just a bunch of dead grass. A wilted, hand painted banner is falling off the far wall. It says, Walk for a Cure. I swallow. Reminders of normalcy are everywhere.

  And then there’s this.

  Kamaneva is waiting patiently in the center of the courtyard, watching the prisoners file in with an evil gleam in her eye. Or at least what seems to be an evil gleam. I can’t stand the woman, so I basically see a skull and crossbones in the center of her pupils every time she looks my way.

  “One of you has been stealing from me,” she states.

  The lump in my throat turns into a baseball. I can feel Sophia tensing up beside me, so I put a hand on her wrist. I stare straight ahead, motionless. Afraid to give myself away with just the slightest twitch of a facial muscle.

  “I don’t know which one of you it is,” she goes on, taking a few calculating steps, “but when I do find out, do you know what the punishment is for stealing from me?”

  Nobody answers. We all know. Execution. Sudden death.

  If I were wearing boots, I’d be shaking in them. Instead all I can do is stand and tremble in my cheap gladiator sandals from a trash bin, avoiding eye contact with the Wicked Witch of the West. Eating oranges have been keeping Sophia and I just a little healthier and stronger than the rest of the women in our group, and if Kamaneva ever notices that, she just might catch on. But right now, the two of us look pretty disheveled and unhealthy despite our efforts. That happens when you haven’t had a bath in weeks and you’re wearing thrift store reject clothes covered in dirt and filth.

  Kamaneva studies the group. Her eyes eventually fall on me – like always. I stare at the wall. I will myself to remain emotionless. Just one wrong move and I’m toast. After a nerve-racking five seconds, she moves her gaze to the next person in line. I release a small breath. Sophia squeezes my hand.

  By the time we make it into the cafeteria, my knees are almost knocking together because I’m trembling so badly. I sit down with Sophia at our spot in the corner. Harry approaches us. “What was that all about?” he wonders. “Was that really necessary on Kamaneva’s part?”

  “She’s just trying to scare us,” I say.

  Harry doesn’t know that Sophia and I “borrow” oranges. The less people know, the better. The more people who know your secrets, the higher the potential for them to betray you.

  “Well, I’m effectively scared,” Harry replies.

  “Who knows if somebody’s really even stealing from her?” I say. “She could have made up the whole story just to put everybody on edge. To keep us all on our best behavior.”

  Harry shrugs.

  “It’s possible, I suppose.”

  Yeah. It’s possible.

  I concentrate on eating my so-called food without looking like some kind of criminal suspect. In my head, everybody is watching me, waiting for me to give myself away. It’s miserable. It’s the prison camp environment. Nobody trusts anybody else, and everybody’s afraid of being stabbed in the back.

  Maybe I was right.

  Maybe this is a lot more like high school than I thought.

  Chapter Six

  Four weeks in a labor camp is enough to make anybody grouchy. My clothes are worn through with holes and my body is coated with a thick layer of dirt. I’m slowly starving, dehydrated, lonely, scared and desperate to escape. The only problem is, there isn’t any easy way out of this stupid camp.

  Thirty days of observation has only told me two things that might be considered a weakness:

  Even with all of the trucks and plumbing Omega has inside the school complex, the portable generators that they’ve installed isn’t enough to keep all the lights in the camp running. The back stretch of the fence is dark, but as far as I can tell, heavily patrolled.

  Grease, the Omega soldier with the bad hair, seems to have gained sympathy for Sophia and I. He might come in handy.

  I’ve
pretty much got the routine of the guards figured out, and I know which troopers are lazier or less intelligent than the rest.

  Omega is armed, powerful and dangerous. I, on the other hand, am tired, tiny and afraid. There’s nothing I can do. Omega never slips up. They don’t leave weapons lying around for me to steal. They don’t leave stretches of the fence unguarded. They’re on top of everything, and Kamaneva is on top of everybody in Group 13. The woman has gotten considerably crueler in the last couple of weeks. She’s started daily torture treatments and public punishments to keep the workforce under control. Every once in a while one of the officers will round up the prisoners, grab a worker for a real or imagined violation of a regulation, and beat or execute them on the spot. It keeps everybody frightened.

  It keeps everybody in line.

  Omega has moved us from orange fields to empty fields. They’re making us prepare for planting, although I’m not sure what we’re going to plant yet. I’m guessing it will be something high in nutritional value. Something to keep an army going. And judging by the amount of prisoners being brought in and forced to work, I’m guessing Omega is planning on hosting a whole lot of troops. Soon.

  That’s not a rosy prospect.

  Everybody has a different idea about who Omega is, why they’re here, and what they want. In my opinion, it’s really not that much of a mystery anymore. Omega is a cover name to keep us confused. Global forces are involved. There’s no other explanation. They need slave labor to keep the invading troops fed, and who better than to provide that kind of work than people like me?

  But what is their final goal? What’s the point of this invasion?

  Power, wealth or greed, probably. The usual suspects. Besides. Who wouldn’t want to take down the United States, right?

  “If you ever get the chance to escape,” I tell Sophia and Harry over dinner one night, “take it. Don’t wait for anybody else. Don’t think. Just go. Take the opportunity.”

  “I couldn’t leave without you,” Sophia says firmly.