by Summer Lane
The smoke is getting thicker. I watch in amazement at how quickly the fire takes hold of grass and devours it. Within a few minutes, acres of hillside is consumed with flames, billowing black, angry smoke and tossing it into the night sky. The cold drizzle is no match for its power.
We have to pull away from the fire as the heat becomes more intense. The militia continues to ignite walls of flames across the hillside, skipping over the interstate and jumping to the other side.
“Not a bad idea, Cassie,” Chris compliments. “By the time it gets to them, it’ll be too big for them to stop.”
“I hate burning the mountains up like this.”
“Think of it as a reverse scorched earth policy.” He shrugs. “We’re burning up their supplies and their troops in front of us rather than behind. That gives us the advantage.”
“I guess.”
We’re standing at the base of one of the bigger mountain ridges, the one currently being eaten by fire. Sophia is holding onto Jeff’s arm, and I find myself smiling. She’s made a new friend.
Chris looks at them, then back at me.
“Jeff and Sophia?” he asks.
“Don’t ask me,” I shrug. “She’s trying to get over Alexander.”
“I didn’t see that coming.”
I laugh.
“I didn’t see us coming either, but here we are,” I say.
And then I’m surprised again.
Jeff suddenly moves away from Sophia and runs forward, yelling something at the top of his lungs. I don’t even have time to make out what he’s saying before something hits Chris in the chest.
He stumbles backward, and I can feel the force of the impact from here.
I scream and Jeff, Sophia, Uriah and Max drop to the ground. I do the same and crawl on my belly over to Chris, who’s lying on his side, his face contorted in pain. I roll him on his back, frantically searching his body for any wounds. I hang my head in relief. A bullet is wedged into his vest, but it didn’t pierce the skin.
Thank God.
I twist around and pop a grenade off my belt, pausing. Militiamen are heading towards me, weapons out, shooting…at us.
What the hell?
That split second of hesitation almost gets us killed. One of the militiamen fires a round at my head. I drop to the ground and chuck my grenade blindly in his direction, as far as I can. At least thirty feet. I blow up the militiaman and another guy.
“We’ve been infiltrated!” I pant breathlessly.
Jeff and Sophia reach us just as I chuck another grenade in front of us, bounding it down the incline, slowing the attack. Sophia empties a half magazine of repressive fire on the oncoming troops to help me.
Chris hasn’t been shot, but the impact of the bullet knocked the wind out of him. It may have even broken a rib. Jeff puts his arm under his brother’s back, and Sophia and I take the other half of his weight, helping him kneel. He pulls his handgun out, rejoining the fight. “Just run,” Chris says, grimacing. “Just go.”
“We’re not leaving you, bro,” Jeff says. “Don’t start with the selfless crap.”
We help him run and, a few minutes into our escapade, Max is hit in the left leg. He slams into the ground, rolling over and grabbing his wound. Sophia – always prepared for these situations – rips a compression bandage off the medic kit on her belt and applies it to his injury. She cinches it tight.
“You can move now,” she says.
I foolishly look behind me. The wall of flames heading south highlights the silhouettes of dozens of our own men hunting us down like animals.
How could this happen? This has to be a bad dream.
“Uriah!” I shout. “Get Max!”
Uriah drops back and hauls Max to his feet. He can’t walk, he can barely drag himself along. I grope for the radio on my belt, Chris’s pressure on my shoulders easing up as he recovers from the physical shock of the impact.
“Rivera,” I say, unable to hear my own voice over the sound of the gunfire and my heavy breathing. “We’ve been infiltrated! Our own men are firing on us. Send backup! Send backup!”
I get nothing in response.
God help us. Is Rivera just being an idiot again or has his platoon been compromised by traitors, too? Chris removes his arm from around my shoulders and starts moving on his own, but every step is painstaking. He can barely breathe. I’m guessing one or two of his ribs have been broken.
The militiamen who are clearly still on our side are retreating in the same direction as we are, many of them standing and fighting their own friends. It’s the most chilling, heartbreaking thing I’ve seen since this whole mess started. Brother fighting brother. Men and women in matching uniform duking it out on the battlefield.
I try calling for backup again and again, getting nothing but static. Nothing but silence. “Sundog!” I beg. “Please, answer us. We’re dying out here. We’ve been compromised!”
Nothing.
Along the side of the freeway, a small ditch runs underneath the interstate. It’s little more than a drainage pipe. I spot it out of the corner of my eye and direct Sophia’s attention to it. She nods and veers to the left.
“Left!” I yell to Chris.
He and Jeff follow me, and Uriah is right behind them, dragging Max. Sophia crawls into the tunnel first. Chris pauses at the entrance to the tunnel, collecting his strength. He turns to help Max and Uriah, and as he does so, I shout a warning. The mammoth wall of flames blazing across the mountains makes it easy to see what’s coming towards us. Black shadows massing around our position. Four or five men tackle Max and Uriah. Chris raises his handgun and begins picking them off, kneeling down. I do the same with my rifle, trying to keep them away from Uriah and Max long enough for them to reach the tunnel.
Uriah pulls himself out of the pile and shoots someone pointblank in the head with his handgun, tearing his way towards us. Leaving Max behind. I scream at him to stay, to help us hold them off, but he ignores me. He’s only got one thing on his mind: Keeping himself alive.
Chris pops off a few more, but dozens of our own militia turned traitors are seeping out of the grass. “Cassie, get in the tunnel!” Chris yells.
“Not until you come, too!”
“That’s not a request, that’s an order!”
Two bullets narrowly avoid my chest. I take a few more shots and stumble backwards, the sheer number of the enemy overwhelming me. “I won’t go without you!” I shriek, tears streaming down my face.
Chris turns to me. It only lasts for a second, but it seems as if time slows down and the world around us fades. “I’ll be right behind you,” he says. “I promise.”
I look at the enemy, back at him, and nod.
“Be careful,” I beg him.
I throw my rifle over my shoulder and sprint towards the tunnel, sliding into the cement passage, scrambling deep into the concrete tube.
Uriah is gone, but Jeff is waiting with Sophia.
“Where’s Chris?” he bellows.
“He said he’d be right behind me.”
“Where’s Max?” Sophia says.
“Just go!” I command. “Run! Now!”
“But-”
“-That’s an order,” I hiss. “Get going!”
Sophia doesn’t press me any further. She turns on her heel and runs, disappearing into the blackness of the tunnel.
I linger at the mouth of the passage, waiting for Chris.
Come on, come on, come on.
Jeff clenches his fist.
“I’m going back out there,” he says.
As soon as he charges forward, a trooper lands in an animalistic crouch at the mouth of the tunnel. I see it before it happens, yet there’s nothing I can do to stop it. He’s too fast, and I have been taken by surprise.
He fires off a round, barely bypassing me, but he hits Jeff in the neck. Jeff stumbles for a moment and grabs his throat, shock registering across his features. I hit the wall and scream as Jeff falls backwards, his eyes wide open,
his face pale and blank, hands grasping at his neck. A stream of satin blood blossoms under his collarbone. It takes a second too long for my shell-shocked senses to start working again. A second too late.
I turn around, locking eyes with the trooper for a split second. And I swear I see right into his soul. There is no regret on his face. Not a hint of emotion or regret for his actions. This is, after all, war. I cry out, furious, and raise my rifle without hesitating. Despite my shaking hands, I steady myself long enough to engage. I snapshot a round into the trooper’s head.
Right between the eyes.
He’s dead before he hits the ground, and I feel no remorse.
I kneel down and shake Jeff by the shoulders, shouting his name, trying to stop the bleeding by applying pressure to the wounds. His blood smears over the palms of my hands. His jaw goes slack. The light leaves his eyes.
“Jeff!” I plead. “Jeff, no! Don’t do this!”
I look behind me, hysterical, shaking.
Another trooper slides into the passage, followed by two more, then three. I barely manage to drive them back, bullets ricocheting off the walls. I have no sympathy for my enemy now. I feel only empty anger, painful loss.
I turn to Jeff.
He’s dead.
I have to go. I need to go.
I pull myself to my feet.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry…”
I grope my way down the inky passage, tears streaming down my face. I’m sobbing as I run, straining for breath, straining for sanity.
The tunnel seems to go on forever, and as I run, the horror of the past few moments sinks in. I finally see a faint light in the distance, the end of the tunnel. I run towards it, leg muscles and lungs burning. I reach it and literally fall out of the tunnel, rolling down a steep embankment. When I drag myself up, the world is spinning and I’m slathered in mud and blood. It’s raining harder, and in the distance, the sky is burning orange and red. The sound of incoming jets once again rips through the air. Air Force.
They attack the enemy positions.
Too little too late.
We’ve already lost so much.
I want to wait at the end of the tunnel for Chris and Max, but I know that I’m being followed by Omega men. So I force myself onward, looking for Sophia and Uriah. Where are they? I follow the side of the interstate for an eternity, the Air Force streaking overhead, dropping their payload on the ground. How will they know who to attack? Our enemies are coming from the inside, too. They look like us.
Harry Lydell. He knew this would happen. He must have known they’d been planted a long time ago. How else would he be so confident that we would suffer? Why else could he get away with being so infuriatingly smug?
I climb onto the freeway, knowing that I’m far enough down the road that there are no more landmines here. Rivera’s forces have pulled back. They’re not even here. I’m alone. We’ve been left here…again.
Fury burns through my veins, coupled with the hollow sadness of Jeff’s death and leaving Chris behind.
He will come. He will come. They won’t kill him. He’s too valuable to kill.
Harry knows that. Right?
I have to keep moving.
The low stutter of an engine echoes off the side of the hills, audible to me only because I’m familiar with it. “Manny!” I yell, desperate. Standing in the middle of the freeway, mired in muck and blood and tears. “Manny, I’m down here!”
He can’t hear me. I know that. But yelling it feels good.
The outline of his old biplane appears in the sky, coasting towards me, using the freeway as an open runway.
“Sundog, this is Yankee,” I yell into my radio. “I’m right under you.”
“Copy that, Yankee,” he replies. “Show me some light.”
I flash my flashlight a few times, marking my position. The direction of his plane changes and he dips down, making a quick, emergency landing on the interstate.
“GET IN!” he shouts.
“I’m waiting for Chris!”
“THERE IS NO TIME.”
“I won’t leave until I know he’s alive!”
“Just get in the cockpit, Cassidy!”
I hesitate, guilt and fear twisting my gut. If I stay here any longer, I’ll die. Chris could have escaped another way. He’ll meet up with me. He always does. Sophia and Max and Derek and Uriah…they’ll meet up with me, too. I know they will.
I have to believe that.
I climb onto the wing and throw my legs over the side of the cockpit, hitting the seat with a thud. “What about everybody else?” I yell.
“I’ve got one passenger seat and you’re in it!”
Manny spins the biplane into a U-turn. I clutch the sides of the plane, squeezing my eyes shut. We gain speed, and suddenly the bottom drops out of my stomach, and I know that we are airborne. As we rise I begin to cry heavily. Great, heaving sobs. Chris is down there. Jeff is dead. Max is probably dead. Derek is missing. Sophia and Uriah could be anywhere.
Chris is down there. Chris is down there. Oh, God, what if they kill him?
I open my eyes, the freezing rain tears at my skin, making the situation just that much more unbearable. This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.
The plane rumbles on, and I’m numb to our surroundings and the time I spend in the air. At some point Manny begins circling and then we’re losing altitude. We land on asphalt, and I vaguely register that we’re at Headquarters. We’re back. There are very few troops here, besides the wounded that are being brought in. Our backup reserve of soldiers is being deployed and another convoy is moving out.
“Get out of the cockpit, Cassidy,” Manny says, killing the engine. His boots hit the wing and he grabs me by the shoulders. “Cassidy, don’t fade out on me, girl.”
No. This can’t be happening.
Loss grips my chest. Raw, painful. Real.
I slowly stand, bitter realization setting in.
Why can’t I just wake up from this nightmare? I wonder.
Because this is no dream. This is the new reality. This is the new world.
This is the beginning of the end.
Epilogue
A collapse. That’s what they’re calling it now. They won’t say what it really is. A takeover. An invasion. A systematic extermination. But I know. We know. Anybody that’s seen what Omega has done or suffered because of them knows the truth. This is no collapse. This is a war. A war that was designed to begin from the inside. Our society collapsed on itself because of our dependence on technology and that made us weak. And now here we are. Fighting to survive.
I don’t know why this had to happen. I don’t understand how one man – or a group of people – could be evil enough to inflict this kind of suffering on the world. But that’s human nature, isn’t it? If you let it run loose long enough, doesn’t it always come back to this? Fighting and tragedy and bloodshed. It’s happened all throughout history. Why should this be any different?
Regardless of what the outcome will be, I will not go quietly. I’ve lost too much. My father was right. Fighting with the National Guard is unlike anything I’ve ever done. It’s a different environment. It’s more brutal. And at times, terribly unfair. Yet I still have hope. This is not the end. This is the beginning of the end of the war. This is when we will make our final stand, when we will make a choice about who we will be and what we will stand for.
I will find Chris. I will lead the militia right into Omega’s open arms if I have to. Nothing will stop me from being with him again. He came for me when I was imprisoned in a labor camp. This time, I’m coming for him. Harry Lydell stands no chance. Omega stands no chance.
I will find them.
Ready or not, here I come.
To Be Continued
More titles from WB Publishing:
The Collapse Series by Summer Lane:
State of Emergency (Book #1)
State of Chaos (Book #2)
State of Rebelli
on (Book #3)
Book 4 (To release 2014!)
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Acknowledgements
Writing a book is one thing. Writing a series is another. Penning the tale of Cassidy Hart and the survival of western civilization is quite a task, easily one of the most exciting and difficult of my life. Writing State of Rebellion was a literary sprint, an epic challenge. I’m as equally happy to be able to release it as everyone else is to finally read it. And it is somewhat of a relief to know that Cassidy’s story is not over yet. She and I have become quite close, and I’m not ready to say goodbye.
All books have a backstory, and The Collapse Series has one, too. I would like to thank my dad, for his technical expertise and tips that helped make the Freedom Fighters as effective as they were. This series would not exist without you. It is so important to me that my readers know this. Cassidy and Chris owe him a lot!
To my mom, thanks for being positive when I’m not! Even on the worst days, you always have a kind word to offer, and I’m so grateful. Thank you, Rocklin, for being Batman.
I mean…thanks for being a great brother, of course.
A special thanks to the ladies and gentlemen of NA Alley: Victoria Smith, Jaycee DeLorenzo, Carrie Butler, L.G. Kelso, Diana Long, Lynn Rush, Juliana Haygert and E.J. Wesley. To Ellen Mansoor Collier, thanks for being such an awesome friend and a one-woman writer support group! Thank you Grandma and Grandpa, Nancy and Pete, for everything. I love you both!
David Hudiburgh, you’re amazing for reading and editing my manuscript. A million thanks for the advice and kindness you’ve shown my family and I. You’re such a dear friend. I’m so happy I know you! Thanks, Edith, for the many fun conversations we’ve had over the past year regarding story ideas for Cassidy Hart.