by Summer Lane
I climb back down the slippery rock, digging my way back to the cave entrance. I slip inside and follow the walls. They close in around me, tighter and tighter, until the cave becomes open again. Flickering firelight. The smell of dirty bodies.
In the corner, a body wrapped in a sheet.
Alexander Ramos.
I tear my goggles and balaclava off. Chris rises from the ground, his big frame throwing a shadow across the room. He’s got a full beard. His electric green eyes look tired.
“Nothing?” he asks, knowing the answer.
“Nothing,” I reply. “It’s thick out there. The ash. It’s solid.”
He shakes his head.
“But the blizzard is over,” I say. “The temperatures have dropped, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. I think we can go back to Camp Freedom.”
“And choke on fifty million pound of ash, yeah,” Vera comments, her tone sharp. She is tired and terrified, like the rest of us. But I do not think this gives her the right to be annoying.
“You can stay here, then,” I say. “Have fun.”
She narrows her eyes, then looks away.
“What if the ash kills us?” I whisper to Chris.
He looks at me.
“We don’t have a choice,” he replies. “We can’t stay here forever.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
“Maybe the ash isn’t as thick at lower elevations,” I suggest.
“Unlikely,” Andrew drawls, staring at his boots. “For all we know, Earth could be a giant snow-globe of ash right now.”
The team in the room remains silent.
I look around.
“We’re leaving,” I state. Firm. “Today.”
A half smile touches Chris’s lips.
“Let’s do it, Commander,” he says.
But not even Chris can hide the fear in his voice.
*
He was struggling. I could see it.
I knew, with one look, that Alexander Ramos was going to die. Maybe, if Sophia was still alive, he would have made the effort to fight. Alexander was the fiercest fighter of all. He was strong, intimidating. Mean. No one got in his way. And now here he was, lying on his back, pale as a sheet, a thin layer of perspiration rolled across his skin.
I hated seeing him like this.
It was bad enough that half of the people I knew were dead. Now Alexander—a man I once thought invincible purely because of his stubborn will—was going to join them.
I stood up, furious. The same blind, red, raging fury that burned through my veins at Sky City rushes over me now. The anger that had driven me to shoot a man who had tortured me pointblank in the center of his forehead. A violent rage that scared even Chris away from me.
The thirst for vengeance, to make my enemy pay for destroying my life.
I whirled away from Alexander’s body. Vera, Andrew, and Chris were standing over him. Uriah, dark and brooding, sat in the corner, silent. I knew that he felt the same destructive anger that I did, and that bonded us somehow.
I charged out of the cave, shaking with sadness and anger.
When I stepped outside, there was an odd stillness in the air. A warm current. A peaceful nothingness—the calm before the storm. I walked forward, until I reached the crest of a hill, one that looked down across a rolling valley of trees. The trees were bathed in abysmal darkness. Beyond that, I could see the faint outline of the Central Valley. The black clouds were closing in all around us, but there was a square of sunlight streaming through the wall, illuminating the flat farmland.
I watched, mesmerized, as the clouds softly rolled together and the sunlight faded. It was dark. I was chilled to the bone. I felt like I had just witnessed something historic and horrible at the same time.
“Say goodbye to the sunlight,” Uriah said.
I didn’t even turn around. His dark, hooded tone was oddly detached. He walked through the discolored snow and stood beside me. His sharp eyes missed nothing.
“It’s all gone,” Uriah muttered. “All of it. What we were fighting for. It’s destroyed.”
I swallowed.
Was he right? If Omega had just unleashed a nuclear war upon us, we were finished…weren’t we? Ours was a battle dependent on the element of surprise, on the skills of snipers and strike teams, and on the fine-tuned efficiency of guerilla warfare. Nuclear bombs weren’t something we had.
We had our wit, our will, and our guns.
And that was all.
I looked at Uriah.
“There’s got to be another way,” I said. “We can’t go out like this.”
Uriah didn’t reply.
His silence was a frightening answer.
“You need to talk to him about Veronica,” Uriah said suddenly. “He knows something that we don’t.”
A cold fist squeezes my heart.
“I know,” I replied. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Then you should ask him.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Yes you are. You’re just afraid.”
I blinked.
“Yes,” I admitted.
It was so easy to admit that to Uriah. I almost hated myself for it.
“Chris isn’t a traitor, Cassidy,” Uriah assured me. “We know he’s loyal. He just knows something about that woman that we don’t, and he needs to share. We need to know.”
I didn’t disagree. I knew Uriah was right.
“He looks at me differently now,” I whispered. “Ever since Sky City. He keeps watching me, like he’s afraid of me.”
“He is,” Uriah answered. “Everyone is.”
I frowned and looked back toward the skyline, quickly fading into shadow.
“Have I changed that much?” I asked.
“We’ve all changed. Hell, the world has.” Uriah raised his hand, his black fingerless gloves stained with soot. I stared at his hand as he moved closer, frozen. He touched my cheek with his finger. “I like the new you,” he said. “It’s different. But it’s real.”
I didn’t move, looking into his coal-colored eyes.
I saw something there. Something familiar.
A reflection of my own soul, perhaps?
“We should go inside,” I said, stepping away, frightened.
In the distance, thunder boomed. I paused, looking behind my shoulder. Uriah looked mildly disappointed, but beyond him, color flashed above the canopy of clouds. I looked to the sky. It was just a single sheet of white and yellow—like lightning flickering through a window. And then it was gone.
“What was that?” Uriah murmured.
I shook my head.
“I have no idea,” I said.
This new, dark world was beginning to frighten me.
*
We pack everything up. We are ready to go. Weak, but ready. In the back of the cave, I see Harry Lydell sitting in the shadows, unmoving. I slip through the team and walk toward him. He knows I am coming, but he doesn’t look up. He has thinned out considerably, and the usual rosy tone of his skin is now pale white.
“You should have left me in Sky City,” Harry says, his lip curling. He lifts his head, his blue eyes meeting mine. There is hatred and bitterness there. “At least I could have died somewhere with electric lights and indoor plumbing.”
“Life is hard,” I reply. “Get used to it. We’re leaving, and you’re coming with us.”
“And if I refuse?” He stands up, very slowly, taller than me by a good ten inches. “What then, Cassidy? Will you kill me?”
I take a step closer.
“Don’t test me,” I say.
I turn away and march through the crowded cave. Chris gives me a worried glance. A few of the men are gathering up Alexander’s things. Earlier, the team dug up the dirt in the corner of the cave and laid his body to rest there. We had a small parting ceremony for him. It was difficult for all of us, but it was most difficult for Chris. He knew Alexander the longest, and their relationship was a deep one.
�
��Everyone keep your eyes, nose and mouth covered,” I advise. “It’s thick out there.” I pause. “It’s scary. Don’t let it get to you.”
Vera looks at me, pulling her own hood on and securing her goggles. I lead the way through the cave, Chris right behind me. When I step outside, I am greeted by the familiar scent of burnt brush and dirty soil. But I am one of the few who dared venture outside into the ash, and many of those on our team has not seen the outside world for two weeks.
There are horrified gasps. One man grasps a crucifix hanging around his neck, crossing himself. I smell the tension in the air, the terrifying reality of this new, gray world.
“Everything’s disgusting,” Vera states.
“How far away do you think the bomb was?” Uriah asks Andrew.
“I’m thinking Oregon or Northern California,” he replies. “We’re getting some heavy duty ash. It can’t be that far away. I think the jet stream is carrying the bulk of the fallout away from us, though.”
“When Uriah and I came outside,” I say, “we saw a flash. Behind the clouds—above them. What was that? It wasn’t thunder or lightning.”
Vera suddenly grips Andrew’s hand.
“I have a theory,” he tells us.
“Tell us while we walk,” Chris growls, agitated.
The swirl of ash and debris is sickening, and if we’re going to be out in it, we might as well be making progress. So we walk, still falling into team formation, although I doubt anything dangerous will be waiting for us in this cloying air.
“Tell us your theory,” Vera says.
She nearly has to yell to be heard above the wind.
“I think that when Omega dropped a nuke on the West Coast,” he explains, “they also detonated another nuke in the atmosphere, sending out another electromagnetic pulse. What you saw in the sky, Cassidy, was another one.”
“But why?” I ask, confused. “They already sent out an EMP the first time. That’s how all of this started.”
“Because people have been finding a way to rebuild,” Andrew says. “This eliminates every thread of technology that we’ve been using since the EMP. Every scrap of computer tech, every car with an electronic starter that we’ve replaced. Back to square one.”
It’s brilliant, when you think about it. Completely simple, totally diabolical, and most people on Earth would have never believed it was possible.
And now look at them. Those same people are dead.
“Our radios are resistant to that kind of an attack, though,” Vera points out. “So why can’t we get a signal?”
“Because something is wrong,” Chris says, his voice sharp. “Camp Freedom should be easy to contact.”
His grim statement casts a pall over us.
We remain silent as we trek through the woods, keeping our lips pressed together as grit worms its way through our masks. I constantly wipe grime and dirt off my goggles so that I can see where I am going. Even then, it is impossible to see more than twenty feet in any direction.
“It’ll take us three days, at least, to get to Camp Freedom,” Vera says at last.
“We’ll make it,” I reply.
“We might get lost. It’s thick out here.”
I don’t know what to tell her. We have a compass and a map of the area. All of us have spent countless hours memorizing the contours of the mountains, in an attempt to gain an advantage over the enemy.
“We can only try,” I say.
Chapter Three
“You’ve got to tell me,” I said.
There was darkness here. Always darkness. Was it night? Was it day?
I didn’t know.
I’d lost track of time.
“Tell you what?” Chris demanded.
There was a space between us. A void. I could feel it.
“Veronica Klaus,” I replied, narrowing my eyes. “She knew you. How?”
Chris avoided my eyes. The movement was like a knife in my chest. Chris never avoided my eyes. Ever.
Something took root in my heart, then.
Doubt.
“Chris,” I said again, firmer. “Tell me the truth.”
It was just the two of us, in the small, confined spaces of the entrance of the cave. Our voices were quiet. The rock wall was cold against my fingers.
“I know her,” Chris said slowly. “From a long time ago.”
“How long?”
“When I was a SEAL, I was sent out on a mission. One of my last jobs. Top secret, highest priority. We were sworn to secrecy. We took an oath—that we would never tell anyone about the assignment, no matter what. These days…well, the Collapse has changed the rules of secret-keeping.”
“What was the mission?” I asked quietly.
“We had information,” Chris went on, staring at the wall. “Someone was smuggling massive amounts of weapons into the United States. They were doing most of it on the border between Mexico and California. Some came through Canada. Others were being sent on ships into ports that had been corrupted and paid off.”
“Weapons?” I echoed. “Where were they being sent?”
“That’s the same question we had,” Chris answered. “Intel suggested that this was part of a terrorist plot. We thought they were sending terrorists into the United States, where they would wait for the weapons to arrive, and then attack simultaneously, causing mass panic. But that was only a theory. We never knew. All we were told was that we were to find out who was sending the weapons into the country—and kill them.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “We went in. Ghost protocol, silent and stealthy. Intel traced back the smuggling operation to a place in Austria, where they suspected the head terrorist was hiding out. We got there. Killed some terrorists. And she was there.”
“Veronica Klaus?” I said, inhaling.
“Yeah.” He looked at me, then. “It wasn’t right, Cassidy. This big compound, a virtual fortress with a massive mansion sitting in the middle of it. And this woman is standing at a dining room table, smiling at us as we come in.”
“Smiling?”
“Smiling.” He shook his head. “We put her down, held her at gunpoint. Took down the compound. It wasn’t hard. But Cassidy…that’s the thing. It wasn’t hard. She was waiting for us. It’s like she knew we were coming—but there was no way she knew. Not a chance in hell. It was impossible.”
“But she did.”
“She did.”
“What happened to her?”
“We took her in, had her questioned. She was a prisoner of war, essentially.” Chris shrugged. “She was a terrorist, and as far as I was concerned, I’d done my job and that was the end of it. I never saw or heard of her again. Until now.”
“She remembered who you were,” I said. “But how would she know your name? How would she have escaped United States custody?”
“She couldn’t,” Chris answered, slowly. “Unless.”
“Unless?”
“Unless, even way back then, Omega was playing games with us. Drawing us in, spinning a web. They must have released her. There’s no other explanation. How would she know my name? She wouldn’t. Unless someone on the inside gave her that information.”
It all made sense, in a terrible, chilling way.
“So Veronica was an Omega operative?” I whispered. “And people in our government were protecting her. They were funding the arms smuggling.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“It wasn’t relevant until now.”
“You didn’t think this was relevant?”
“Until now, Cassidy, that mission was a routine assignment,” Chris explained. “Seeing that woman alive—and as a part of Omega—makes me wonder how many of my missions were actually strikes against Omega.”
I closed my eyes.
If the infiltration really went that deep…then Harry Lydell was right. Omega was like a viral infection, leaving no part of society untouched.
&
nbsp; And only in retrospect could you see how all the pieces connected.
*
Three days. They are grueling. The weather conditions are worse than a blizzard. The ash seems to stuff itself into every corner of our clothing, burrowing into our mouths and shoving its way into our noses. There is coughing and sneezing, hacking and gagging. It is almost comical.
Almost.
We travel in morbid silence. Talking at this point is a major effort, so we try to keep communication to a minimum. We eat enough to keep us going, and drink enough water to get us to the camp.
It seems to take an eternity, but after two nights and three days of traveling by foot, we reach Camp Freedom. I look at the dirt road. Tire tracks cross through the sludge, cutting through the frozen mud. I share a glance with Uriah. As we get closer to the camp, we pass the first checkpoint. It is abandoned, and so is the second one.
I stop. The fence around Camp Freedom is unguarded. The concrete blockade before the final guardhouse is empty. No guards are in sight. Nothing but the lonely whistle of wind through the trees.
Camp Freedom… gone?
Charged terror rushes through me. Through everything, I at least knew that Camp Freedom would always be here. It was a place to go that was safe. Always.
And now…
I rush forward, trudging through the snowy deluge, reaching the front gate. It is closed, but not guarded. I curl my fingers around the chain links, looking across the empty camp. Headquarters, General Store, the Armory. Nothing.
“This can’t be happening!” Vera exclaims, giving voice to all of our thoughts.
A small panic breaks out among the thirty-man team.
“Can you believe—”
“Were they killed by the ashes? That’s crazy—”
“Did Omega send more mercenaries—”
“Maybe they’re all dead.”
Chris does not seem pleased with the negative commentary. He takes his gun—an AR-15—and squeezes the trigger. He shoots through the chains holding the gate together, effectively unlocking it. He and a couple of the men kick the gate open, and we are standing inside Camp Freedom.
I swallow a lump in my throat and walk forward, the first one through the gates right behind Chris. Camp Freedom is a ghost town. There is not a living soul in sight. The vehicles have been vacated. The stores emptied of their goods. Headquarters, the General Store…everything is locked up, abandoned.