State of Rebellion (Collapse Series)

by Summer Lane

  “Cassidy, are you okay?” Isabel says.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I answer.

  And that’s the truth. For now.

  Chapter Two

  I’m lying with my head propped up against a bedroll, my feet on Chris’s lap. Isabel, twelve years old, blonde and blue-eyed, is combing the hair away from my face. “I thought for sure you were dead,” she says, braiding some of my strands together. “I was so worried. Everybody was.”

  “Well…we’re all okay,” I say.

  Lie. Some of us aren’t okay. Some of us are dead.

  The rendezvous point is a high spot on the side of a mountain, hidden by a massive rock cliff. The other half is a steep, brushy slope. The one we just climbed up. We can see the enemy approaching long before they get here. A definite plus. We’ve been storing ammunition and supplies here for months. I’d hoped we’d never have to use it.

  “Good to see you made it out alive,” says a familiar, gravelly voice.

  Alexander Ramos. He’s limping towards us, a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. But he’s still walking and talking, so that’s a good sign.

  “You too,” Chris replies, swapping handshakes. “Thanks for getting my family here safely.”

  Chris’s parents barely escaped the basecamp after the ambush. While I was unconscious, our platoons returned to the camp and evacuated the women and children there. We separated our platoons into two sections to avoid detection, and the Young family went with Alexander’s group. Chris wanted them to reach the rendezvous point as soon as possible – even before we did – so he sent them ahead with Alexander.

  “Cassidy,” Alexander nods. “I heard you got shot.”

  “You heard right.”

  “Well.” He pauses. “Stay alive.”

  “Um. I’ll work on it.”

  The ghost of a smile touches his lips. I tuck the moment away in my brain:

  Alexander Ramos smiles for the first time.

  “He actually has emotions,” I whisper to Chris as Alexander walks off.

  “Give the guy some credit,” he shrugs, grinning. “He’s only human.”

  I look down at my hands – slicked down with dried tree sap, mud and crusty blood. “Gross,” I mutter.

  “You look awful,” Isabel remarks.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I mean, does it still hurt?”

  “Yeah. Getting shot does that.”

  Chris rubs his thumb up and down my ankle, his lips pressed together in a thin line. I only have to look at his face once to know that he’s doing the same thing I am: Thinking about the dead we left behind on the battlefield.

  “Hey,” I say, nudging him with my boot. “You okay?”

  He looks at me, weariness in his eyes.

  “Yeah. You?”

  I shrug.

  I sit up, eyeing the group around me. There’s nearly seventy-five people here. Many of them lost mothers, brothers, sisters and fathers last night. Things are different, somehow. We’ve been jolted into the reality of war in a way we hadn’t been before.

  “What do we do, Chris?” I whisper. “Omega’s looking everywhere for us. They won’t stop until we’re all dead. You know that. I know that. We’re screwed if we stay in one place.”

  “We need to set up a new base,” he replies, staring at the ground. Calm, steady. Just like a leader should be.

  “Where? We can’t just go set up living quarters in Boyden Cave.”

  “No,” he smirks. “Your father will be able to help us.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat.

  But we can’t stay in one place for too long. That could be lethal. We’re dealing with asymmetrical warfare here. To stay alive we have to stay active. We have to keep moving. If Dad isn’t here soon – very soon – we’ll have to move on to somewhere else. And since we’re a guerilla warfare militia, we have small pockets of supplies hidden all over these mountains.

  I don’t want to leave without my father, though.

  My father. The Commander of the Mountain Rangers. It’s a piece of information that hasn’t completely set in, yet. I need time to absorb it. How many times did we communicate with Eagle One – his codename – and have no idea it was my dad, Frank Hart?

  If my life were a story nobody would believe it.

  “They must have a basecamp,” I realize. “We can combine with them.”

  “Possibly.” Chris throws me a sideways glance. “You know as well as I do that allying with somebody will change the dynamics of what we have here.”

  “Chris, what we have here is a bunch of misplaced volunteer soldiers,” I reply. “And a lot of them are dead now. We can’t be picky. We have to do what we need to do to survive.”

  “I know.” He swings his legs around the log, straddling it like a chair. “You’re right.” He closes his eyes. “But it will be dangerous.”

  “What isn’t dangerous anymore?”

  “Good point.” He brushes the back of my cheek with his hand. “You know, if you could avoid getting shot again, I’d appreciate it. You scared me. I thought you were going to die.”

  “Nah,” I grin. “I’m too stubborn to die.”

  “Don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t.” I place a kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

  He smiles softly. A moment of happiness.

  And then a commotion draws his attention to the edge of the slope. People are gathering at the border of the camp, talking in hushed voices. A few Rangers appear, dressed in worn clothing. A crude depiction of a white star is stitched onto their right sleeves. My breath catches in my throat.

  “Well,” Chris says. “It looks like your dad finally showed up.”

  “Good,” I reply, nervous. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

  Call me dramatic, but I had pictured my reunion with my father as something a lot better than this. I’d imagined running towards him across some kind of meadow, giving him a hug, and then we’d walk home to Culver City and things would go back to normal. Just like that.

  Nope. Reality check.

  I pull myself painfully to my feet, Chris keeping a steadying arm around my shoulders. Dad is wearing dark clothing. A broad rimmed hat is pulled low over his forehead, casting a shadow over his unshaven face.

  “Dad!” I exclaim.

  “Cassidy!” He smiles widely, slinging his rifle on his back. “Cassidy, my girl.”

  He crosses the distance in a few strides, wrapping me into a bear hug – albeit a gentle one, because I’ve been shot. I bury my head in his shoulder, a million emotions flooding me at once. Happiness, confusion, frustration. Mostly happiness.

  “Where have you been?” I say. “Why weren’t you at our cabin? How did this happen?”

  A tear slides down my cheek.

  Embarrassing. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

  Dad holds me at arm’s length.

  “I’ll explain everything,” he promises. “Cassie, don’t cry.”

  He hugs me again, and I don’t even care that everybody in camp is staring at us. Give me a break, people. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for my father? A long time.

  “Frank?”

  Dad slowly loosens his embrace as Chris steps forward.

  “Glad you made it here alive,” he says. “I’m Alpha One. Chris Young. Your daughter’s been trying to find you for a long time.”

  Dad keeps one arm around my shoulder, offering Chris a firm handshake.

  “Chris,” he says. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking care of Cassidy for me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dad, this is Sophia, and this is Isabel….” I begin introducing the people from my inner circle, feeling excited. Happy that, for at least one second, something good has happened.

  “We need to discuss our next move,” Chris states, folding his arms across his broad chest. He’s a good four inches taller than my dad.

  Dad looks at Chris.

  “You have other supplies hidden
in these hills, I assume?”

  “We do,” Chris replies.

  “I have something better.”

  “You have a basecamp.”

  Dad nods, the hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Yes.”

  “We need to move out now if we want to stay out of Omega’s crosshairs.”

  “No. I want to know what’s been going on with you for the last year,” I interject, turning to Dad. “Why weren’t you at the cabin? How did you end up doing this? What happened?”

  “It’s a long story, sweetheart,” he replies.

  “Join the club.”

  “Still sarcastic?”

  “Some things never change.”

  Dad chuckles good-naturedly.

  “Okay, fine,” he says, grinning, looking at Chris again. “We fed Omega a false trail. Some of my men are leading them away from our position, which gives us a chance to head back to our basecamp.”

  “Where is this place?” I ask.

  “It’s a four day journey from here,” he replies.

  “Four days? Where the heck are we going? Disneyland?”

  “No. Someplace safe.”

  “Define safe.”

  Dad smiles again.

  “It’s good to have you back, Cassidy,” he says, kissing my forehead. “I’ve missed my little girl.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” I look around. “But now that you’re here, do you mind explaining how you ended up commanding a militia outfit?”

  “I have a feeling it’s not much different than how you ended up with the Freedom Fighters,” Dad replies. “But yes. I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  I look at Chris. He’s watching the two of us closely, and I can’t help but notice that Dad is returning the inquisitive expression.

  Yeah. At some point, I’m going to have to tell my father about Chris and me. And I have a feeling it may not go over well.

  “The night the EMP hit,” Dad begins, gripping a cup of hot coffee, “I was in Santa Monica. A good twenty minutes from our house on a moderate day of traffic. You had just texted me that you were going to bring home Chinese food for dinner.” He smiles wistfully at the memory. So do I. It was the last thing I ever did on a cellphone.

  Chris is sitting next to me. He hasn’t put his arm around me or offered a comforting touch since Dad showed up. I’m guessing he’s waiting for me to break the ice and tell Dad about us before he makes a move.

  Smart boy.

  It’s dark now. We have no campfire. Heat comes from portable camping stoves and the warmth we siphon off from hugging thermoses of steaming coffee. We’ve taken a few moments to rest, having started our journey towards the Rangers’ basecamp immediately.

  Sophia sits next to me.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey.”

  Silence. We suddenly hug each other.

  “We’re still alive,” she says. “Can you believe it?”

  “No. We should be dead.”

  “I know. But we’re not.” She shrugs. “Sorry, Mr. Hart. Please go on.”

  He takes a drink.

  “I knew what had happened the second my cellphone stopped working,” he says. “I didn’t even try to find my car. The first airplane hit less than a mile away from where I was. I’ve never seen such a level of hysteria.” He drains the last of the coffee from his cup, leaning forward. “It took me three days to get back to the house. Rioters were going berserk throughout the city. There were massive fires, vandalism. Crime everywhere.”

  “It didn’t take long for people to go crazy, did it?” I remark grimly.

  “Unfortunately, no. When I got back to the house, the Mustang was missing. I knew exactly where you’d taken it, Cassidy. To the cabin.” He smiles proudly. “You took the supplies you would need, and I took mine. I had to get out of the city on foot. It took me days to get through the chaos. And you know what was strange?”

  I shrug.

  “Not a trace of Omega anywhere,” he continues. “Omega started setting up relief camps about two days after the pulse hit, right? They rolled in right away. They were prepared and ready to go. But in Los Angeles? Nothing.”

  “That makes perfect sense,” Sophia mutters.

  “Why?” I say.

  “Do you remember when we were in Kamaneva’s labor camp?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “There were the rumors that all the big cities like L.A. and New York had either been nuked or attacked with a chemical weapon.” She outlines her initials in the dirt with the toe of her shoe. “Why would Omega bother sending their forces into a city where they were going to kill everybody with a big weapon?”

  A lead weight settles in the pit of my stomach.

  “God,” I breathe. “You’re right.”

  “I figured about as much,” Dad says. “It took me weeks to get up to the cabin, and when I finally arrived, you weren’t there. That was the worst. I didn’t know if you had been there and left or if you never made it.” He shakes his head. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I looked for you around the mountain communities. It was a mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “A woman turned over my name to Omega officials,” he answers. “It’s a long story, but I guess my name and what I did for a living didn’t sit well with Omega. They came and tried to pick me up. They didn’t get me. I left the cabin and didn’t come back. I couldn’t. They would have just waited for me there.”

  “I found your backpack on the floor,” I say, frowning. “We probably just missed each other.”

  “So you did make it up to the cabin at some point.”

  “Yes. But that’s another story. Finish yours first.”

  “Right.” He lets his shoulders fall, relaxing against the back of a fallen log. “I wandered around the hills for a few days, trying to throw them off the trail. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Omega cared about capturing me. All I was doing was staying off the radar.”

  “That makes you an instant target,” I say. “We found that out the hard way, didn’t we?”

  Chris nods.

  “Yeah, I figured that out, too,” Dad continues. “I ran across a group of capable men living up in the higher mountains and we combined forces. Started doing everything we could to disrupt Omega’s supply chains and transportation routes through the mountains. Our militia kept growing, and well…you know the rest.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve been so close to each other all this time,” I say.

  “It happens,” Dad sighs. “I didn’t believe you were dead, Cassie. You had to be alive somewhere, and I figured you’d find a way to fight back. You never did like being told what to do.”

  I crack a grin. “Omega was asking for it.”

  Chris stirs, sitting upright, his leg brushing my knee.

  “How many men do you have all together?” he asks.

  “About a hundred.”

  “Where exactly is your basecamp?”

  “Like I said, four days from here on foot. There are other survivors there. A lot of military protection.”

  “Whoa. Did you say military?” I interject. “As in, the United States military?”

  “Yes. Former military. Other militias like us.”

  “I thought our military was on the East Coast somewhere.”

  “What’s left of our forces are gearing up for something a hell of a lot bigger than Omega’s push on the Eastern Seaboard,” Dad replies, grim. “Most of our military is staked out on the West Coast, from Washington to the bottom of California.”

  “What’s coming?” Sophia whispers.

  I glance at Isabel. She’s gone completely silent.

  “Backup,” Dad says. “The next wave of the invasion is on its way.”

  Chapter Three

  I’d always figured that Omega was waiting for backup. When I was imprisoned in a labor camp with Sophia, we were forced to harvest food for a massive amount of troops…a number so large that t
here was no way it was for the Omega forces already here. We theorized that backup was coming.

  Omega, we figured, was a combination of rogue elements from North Korea, China, and Russia. Who knows who else was involved? At this point we don’t even know if the United States was the sole country affected by the EMP. For all we know, the entire world could be dark.

  “China,” I state.

  Dad blinks.

  “China has to be sending the backup,” I clarify. “Right now Omega’s got mercenaries and international troops crawling all over the states, but there really aren’t that many. Think about it. Not enough to take over every nook and cranny of the nation. So what country do you know of that has a population big enough to supply enough troops to invade the United States on foot?”

  “China,” Chris agrees. “Absolutely.”

  “Not a bad theory,” Dad shrugs. “And if you’re right, I don’t see how we stand a chance against an invasion like that.”

  “We still have nuclear weapons, right?” I ask. “We must have some kind of government left in place. The President and Congress and all of those people…they’re still around, aren’t they? Don’t they have some sort of emergency plan for a scenario like this?”

  “I have no idea, Cassie,” Dad replies, frowning. “I haven’t heard anything about our governmental structure still being in place. As for the President and everybody else, they might be dead. If the big cities really were nuked, our population has been significantly reduced, people are starving, and our borders are practically wide open for an invading force. What’s left of our military is on its own.”

  “There’s nobody in charge at all?”

  “Well…” Dad shifts his position. “You’ll understand once you get to Camp Freedom – that’s what we call our basecamp. It’s not gigantic, but it’s well hidden and we’ve got a good number of volunteers.”

  “And you’ve got people there who have authority?” Chris asks.

  “Somewhat. We’ve got a governing body. Like I said, you’ll see when you get there.” Dad looks at me. “We need to accept the fact that the United States as we know it is long gone. Right now it’s nothing but an anarchic society, and our enemies are taking advantage of our weakened state. They’re simply taking over.”