by Summer Lane
Both Rivera and Chris stand next to each other as we wait for the Chinese messenger to arrive. We’ve brought a small detachment of armed militia with us, and unbeknownst to the Chinese, our forces are still holed up in the undergrowth around the mountains. If they try anything dirty, they’ll die.
The early morning light casts a defining glow over the landscape. The temperature is cold and biting, but I hardly notice. I’m focused on the vehicle moving up the hill. It’s a Humvee, but it’s painted with the Omega symbol – a white, stylized O on the side of the door. Max is with us, and so is Sophia. She’s standing next to me.
“What do you think they want?” she whispers.
“I have no idea,” I reply. “But Chris seems willing to negotiate for some reason.”
“He’s trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”
“Rivera, on the other hand, doesn’t care.”
“He cares,” Sophia corrects. “His methods are just different.”
I keep my comments to myself. It’ll probably take a few years for the bitterness over Rivera’s abandonment of the militia to wear off. And then I’ll understand. But that day is definitely not today.
Chris turns his head slightly, sharing a glance with me.
Don’t worry, he seems to say. We’ve got this.
As far as I know, Jeff and Derek are with their platoons, still safely hidden. As the vehicle comes to the top of the hill, it slows to a halt, and the troops slowly come out. Chinese soldiers surround a man exiting the front passenger door. They protect him with their bodies, a human shield. They move him towards us, standing in a straight line in front of his body.
“Start talking,” Colonel Rivera states.
Chris says nothing. His silence speaks volumes.
The man shielded by the troops is obviously the messenger, and as he begins to talk, his soldiers pull apart enough for us to get a view of his appearance. Sophia slaps her hand across her mouth, unable to contain her shock. A stone drops to the bottom of my stomach.
Wavy brown hair. Tall, lean figure. Piercing blue eyes. All of this wrapped up in a recognizable blue Omega uniform that contrasts the Chinese’s black suits perfectly.
“Now Colonel,” he says, his voice smooth. Perfect. “Let’s not dispense with the pleasantries simply because we’re on a battleground. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harry Lydell, and I am the acting Commander for this detachment of troops.”
Chapter Sixteen
Of all the people I had expected to see in the midst of this Armageddon, Harry Lydell was not one of them. The Englishman who spied on Sophia and I during our imprisonment at an Omega labor camp. The guy who fed information to the enemy before the attack on Sanger, costing us the lives of too many good men.
And I definitely didn’t expect him to be a commander.
“Don’t look so shocked, Cassidy,” he says, looking directly at me. “You didn’t think I’d just disappear forever, did you?”
Well, actually…
“You know this man?” Rivera asks, turning to Chris.
“He was an Omega spy. He betrayed my men,” he replies simply.
“Betray is a rather harsh word, don’t you think?” Harry asks, still watching me. “Betrayal implies that one was loyal to a cause before turning their backs on it. I did no such thing. I’ve always known where my loyalty lies, and it was never with the militias.”
“That’s your mistake, then,” I say.
“So bitter.”
“You almost got me killed.”
“Sorry about that, love. But this is war, you know.”
“Don’t you dare-”
“-Enough,” Chris growls, and even Harry flinches at the tone of his voice. Chris, after all, is the man that almost snapped his neck on one occasion. And I saved Harry’s life. Epic fail. “You’re here to deliver a message. Deliver it.”
“Colonel Cho sends his condolences for the losses you will take if you do not stop your attempt to exterminate our forces,” Harry says, an irritating smirk on his lips. “I volunteered to represent him at this meeting. I recognized your fighting techniques, Young. You haven’t changed.”
“And you’re still a jerk,” I grit.
“Now, now,” Harry says, raising a finger. “This is supposed to be a peaceful meeting.”
“I should jam my boot down your throat.”
“By all means, go ahead. That would be an amusing attempt to watch.”
“Lydell, why didn’t your Colonel meet us here himself?” Chris interjects, holding his hand up, silencing both of us immediately.
“Because it wasn’t necessary.” Harry folds his arms across his chest. “You’ve made a noble attempt to stop us, I’ll give you that. But you cannot defeat us, and we will kill every man and woman in our path. The solution to your problems is simple: surrender.”
“Surrender is not an option,” Chris replies.
“Why not? Join us. Omega will provide you with food, weapons, ammunition. Be on the winning side.” Harry again moves his gaze to me, smiling wickedly. “When all of this is over, and the new Order is established, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of the border, trust me.”
“You’re asking us to turn our backs on our own country,” Max says. “You’re insane.”
“Colonel Cho is making a generous offer,” Harry answers. “We will unleash everything on your forces if you don’t surrender. I guarantee you, not a single man will be left standing.”
“Don’t threaten me,” Chris warns. “We’re not joining you.”
“Then I suggest you run.”
“We’re not running. You and your allies need to get the hell out of our home.”
“Your home?” Harry sighs. “As if it belongs to you. It’s ours for the taking, and we’re taking it. You can either step aside and bow to the superior power, join us in our fight, or be annihilated. Personally, I prefer option three, but that would be a waste of some talented guerrilla war fighters.”
“Consider them wasted,” Colonel Rivera shoots back, startling me with the venom in his voice. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re going to wipe the floor with your face, kid.”
I press my lips together, fighting the irrational laughter bubbling up in my chest. Harry looks very ticked.
“So is that a refusal, then?” he asks.
“That’s a no,” Chris corrects. “Get off my hilltop. And by the way, the next time you and I meet, I’m going to kill you.”
Ouch.
“Cassidy?” Harry says, swallowing.
“I’m not a traitor,” I reply.
He glares at me.
“You will be responsible for the death of hundreds,” Harry presses.
“Leave,” Chris commands.
“Your mistake. This offer will not come again.” Harry turns back towards the vehicle, the soldiers retreating from the parley. “Just remember that you had a chance to live. It will be the last thought you have before you die.”
He slams the door shut. We stand there in silence as the vehicle rolls back down the hill. I release a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“That was entertaining,” Rivera states. “Let’s get back to work. They’ll be on us as soon as he gets back to his commanding officer.”
“At least we know the name of their Colonel,” I shrug.
“I cannot believe Harry is here,” Sophia gasps. “After all this time.”
“It’s a small world,” I say. “And it’s getting smaller every day.”
“That meeting was meant to intimidate us,” Chris says. “They wouldn’t have stopped to parley if they had as much power as Harry is bragging about. We would all be dead already.”
“He’s bluffing?” I say.
“They’re hesitating,” Chris replies. “And that’s perfect.” He turns to Max. “I want you to join Jeff’s platoon. Sophia, you go with him. Cassidy, you stay with me.” He and Rivera look at each other for a second. Chris simply n
ods and the two of us head to our vehicle.
I slide inside, wrapping my fingers around Chris’s forearm.
“Chris, did you catch what he said about the ‘new Order?” I ask.
“I caught it.”
“What’s the Order?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s what Omega’s calling the new government system they’re going to set up. Does it matter?”
“Yeah. I’d like to know what their evil master plan is.”
Chris strokes my hair.
“We know what it is. Annihilation and domination.” He shrugs. “We just have to stop them.”
“It’s going to be a long day.”
“It already has been.”
You know that feeling you get when you stand on the edge of a cliff? Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t. For me, standing on the edge of a cliff is just as exciting as it is terrifying. If I fall off the cliff, I’ll die. And that’s terrifying. But I’m also looking out over the world. I’m on top of the world. And that is exciting. There’s no way to describe it unless you’ve experienced it.
It’s exactly how I feel right now.
Exhausted as I am, hiding in the mountains again, awaiting Omega’s second push, I’m terrified. Because we might die. But excited, because we might survive, and we might succeed in keeping Omega out of the valley.
Hours have passed since our meeting with Harry. The shock has worn off. It’s been replaced with near boredom as we wait for Omega to do something. Anything. It’s like waiting for lightning to strike the ground. When will they hit us next?
Night comes. There is no moon tonight, just clouds. It makes the hills darker and more difficult to navigate. I sit with my legs in front of me, eating MRE rations, meat and vegetables chemically heated in a bag. It tastes like mashed baby food. But I’m not complaining. This food is better than no food, even if I do have to eat it in the dark and feel for the contents like a blind person.
It’s been a long, restless day. I managed to get an hour or so of sleep, but my body was too wired for anything more than that. Harry’s words have replayed in my head over and over again:
“You will be responsible for the death of hundreds.”
I remind myself that he’s a professional liar, taking another bite of food. Forcing it down. Harry is just trying to get to us, specifically me. He spent enough time with me in the labor camp to know that I have difficulty engaging in warfare. Yes, it’s something I have to do. Yes, I realize that if I don’t fight, we’ll all die anyway, so I might as well go down swinging. But no, that doesn’t mean I’m an emotionless monster who wants unnecessary bloodshed.
Harry’s wrong. You’re not all going to die. He’s bluffing and you know it.
I finish off the rest of my food, toss it aside and take a long drink of water. I hear a distant whining, like the escalating ringing in my ears before my hearing popped back. I tilt my head up, a fat raindrop hitting my nose.
Oh, lovely. On top of everything else, it has to rain, too?
A smattering of cold droplets peppers my face, and the whining grows louder. In that moment realization smacks me upside the head.
“Did somebody order air support in here?” I ask, turning to Chris. “Chris?”
He’s kneeling on the ground, listening intently.
“Those aren’t our jets,” he says simply.
I jump to my feet, shouting this order as loud as I can.
“Take cover, take cover! They’re sending jets!!!”
Fear, raw and real, grabs me by the neck. I can’t breathe. Are we about to get bombed? Our air support has kept the skies clear for us so far. But what if a bogey or two got through? Just one could do some serious damage to our front lines.
Chris grabs my arm and drags me down the hillside, heading for lower ground. We’re too far into the interstate to take cover under the freeway. The road is at ground level, plus we’ve planted landmines all along the road. We duck into the low bushes, staying hidden under rocks and trees. The screaming of the incoming jets strike terror into my heart. I clutch Chris’s arm as he pulls me close. The rain is starting to fall harder, sticking my uniform to my skin. Uriah scrambles down next to us, while other members of our militia scatter throughout the hillside. The jets streak by overhead, sweeping through like dark birds.
Something drops from the first bird. It detonates upon impact, turning the grass into a smoldering mass of dirt and grass. Flames spring up despite the rain, giving everything a hellish aura. More weapons hit the earth. Every impact is like an earthquake. I can feel the expulsion of air on my lungs, each shockwave hitting me like a brick in the chest.
Chris holds me against him and I hang on for dear life, praying to God that one of those things won’t hit us. The barrage seems to go on for an eternity, never ceasing long enough for me to recover from each shockwave. The hills are alive with flames now, and the rain isn’t falling hard enough to put out the fire. At last the enemy jets stop their attack, and Chris’s grip on me eases a bit.
“Are they gone?” I ask.
“They’ll be back,” Uriah replies, his dark eyes glimmering with hatred. “But we’ve got our own birds, too. I’d suggest you radio Rivera and call in the Air Force.”
Chris nods.
I remain still, listening to the crackle of fire against the dry grass.
Please rain harder, I think. Put out this fire before…
Wait.
I pull back from Chris.
“Which way is the wind blowing?” I ask.
“Um…I don’t know. South?” Uriah says.
“We need to drive this fire towards the Chinese. Nothing can stop a wildfire.”
Chris fixes me with a surprised look, a smile spreading across his face.
“Cassie, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
“It’s the only idea I’ve had all day.”
He hits the radio and contacts Rivera.
“Rivera, this is Alpha One,” he says. “What’s your status?”
“We’re alive,” Rivera replies. “What’s your status?”
“My platoon is uninjured. Radio air support. Tell them to be ready to combat military aircraft.”
“Will do,” Rivera says, but he sounds shaken.
I grab my radio and contact Max’s platoon.
“This is Yankee, over,” I say.
Nothing but static. Chris tries on his radio. Uriah tries his, too. Nothing.
“Oh, my god,” I breathe. “Do you think they’re hurt?”
Chris sets his jaw.
“Possibly.”
Uriah shakes his head.
“No. No way am I leaving this position to check on another platoon,” he says. “If those jets come back while we’re on the move, we’ll be out in the open.”
“I’m not leaving them to die,” Chris snaps. “And I’m not asking you to come.”
“You’re not going without me,” I tell him.
He nods. No argument.
That’s new.
Uriah rolls his eyes.
“You care too much.” He holds out his hands. “But I get your point.”
What Uriah might not understand is that despite the fact that it’s dangerous to check up on Max’s platoon, it’s worth it. Max, Derek, Sophia and Jeff are the best soldiers we have. If we lose them, we’ll lose a lot of the militia’s morale. We can’t afford it. Plus, Chris has already lost Alexander this week. He doesn’t want to lose anybody else. Neither do I.
Chris turns to a young man staked out behind us. I don’t remember his name. Andrew, I think. I don’t know.
“You’re in charge until I get back,” Chris says.
The kid stares at Chris with an expression of shock, then nods.
“Yes, sir,” he says.
Chris doesn’t hesitate in moving forward. I dart behind his shoulder, Uriah on my tail. We move through the grass, feet sinking into mud. My brilliant plan of driving a fire towards Omega won’t do much good if the rainfall continues to get
heavier. Max and his platoon are four hundred yards from our position, and the rain and darkness make it even more difficult to navigate the rough terrain. All the while, Uriah anxiously listens for any signs of enemy aircraft.
As we approach their position, I stop dead in my tracks. Where Max and his platoon were hiding is nothing but a smoking, flaming crater. Horrified, I run forward and claw my way up the hill. “Sophia!” I scream. “Max! Derek! Jeff!”
Dead militiamen are lying in the mud, burnt and mutilated beyond recognition. I fall on my knees and cover my mouth, fighting the gag reflex.
“Cassidy!”
I look up. Sophia is running towards me. I pull myself up and throw my arms around her neck. She’s crying hysterically. “I barely missed it,” she chokes. “They dropped a freaking bomb on our heads.”
“Where are the others?”
“Here!” Jeff crawls out of the tall grass. Chris heaves a sigh of relief and pulls his brother into a fierce hug. Max is there, as well, but I don’t see Derek.
“Where’s the rest of the platoon?” I ask. “Where’s Derek?”
“I don’t know where everybody is. We scattered.”
I bite my lip.
“We need to get out of here. The cover’s been fried.”
“Exactly.” Chris kneels down. He grabs his radio and calls the other nearby platoons. “We’re going to light these mountains up. We’re burning them down.”
“But…why?” Sophia asks, trembling.
“We’re going to push Omega back. They can’t fight against a wall of flames.”
“They’ll try.”
“They’ll just come in with their jets,” Uriah says.
“It’s a lot harder to see the enemy when the ground is covered in smoke,” Chris replies.
Our militia platoons roll in with a couple of vehicles. Soldiers dump barrels of diesel fuel on the grass. And from there, all it takes is a spark. Soon the entire field before us on fire, the flames reaching skyward, the wind whipping it hotter, towards Omega.
“Keep lighting up the hillside,” Chris orders. “Follow the interstate and make sure you drive it back. The wind is blowing south, right in their direction. Keep it going.”