Collapse Series (Book 7): State of Destruction

by Summer Lane

  “We got a message from San Francisco,” Arlene says, clearing her throat. “They told us to tuck tail and run. At that point, we didn’t know if Omega was dropping bombs in a line, and if we were next.” She quells a shudder. “And then we lost radio contact with you, and with them. With the whole damn state.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “More EMPs. All across the state. And what the EMP wouldn’t affect, Omega physically disabled. They’ve been making a concentrated effort to knock out the radio towers the militia have spent months so carefully constructing.” She mutters a curse. “All of that work. We’ll have to start from scratch again.”

  “So you decided to pull out to San Francisco,” Chris states.

  “Yes,” she says. “We had no way of knowing if you were alive. We waited, we really did. For almost two weeks. You never showed. If Omega was staging another advance on the California coastline, we wanted to be there to help fight them off. So we evacuated. We had no choice.”

  “You left us to die,” Vera says, her tone venomous.

  “We did what we had to do.”

  “We were stuck in a cave for two weeks while ashes fell from the sky! Alexander Ramos died! No one will ever know where his grave is!”

  Her voice is shrill, almost a shriek.

  Andrew puts a hand on her shoulder and gives Arlene an apologetic look.

  After a long, heavy silence, Arlene speaks.

  “I am sorry. But we waited. You didn’t come. And we had women and children to think about. The blizzard was harsh. We took a vote. Everyone decided to go to San Francisco. We thought we could help the most here…and we were right.”

  “We left all the supplies and vehicles we could for you,” Manny adds, exuberant. “I told them you’d make it back to camp. I knew it. I never doubted your stubbornness for a moment, Cassidy Hart.”

  My lips twitch, a flicker of amusement.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  I give Vera a sharp look.

  “Obviously you found my message, too, or you wouldn’t be here,” Arlene says. “Now tell me. What happened to Sky City? Was the mission a success? Were the Angels of Death as effective as we hoped?”

  “Yeah,” Chris answers. “Sky City is destroyed. But we’ve got a problem.”

  “A problem?”

  “There was a woman,” I say slowly, unclasping my fingers. “She showed up on a satellite feed. She knew we were coming, and she taunted us. She called herself an Omega Chancellor. Veronica Klaus. Whoever she was, she was dangerous, and she was powerful. That’s the first time since this whole thing has started that I’ve ever been able to put any kind of a face to Omega.”

  Arlene stares at me.

  “What?” I demand.

  “Veronica Klaus,” she says. “You spoke with her?”

  “Yeah. She warned us off. Spit out some threats.” I shrug. “Typical Omega behavior. But there was something different about her. Something I’ve never seen before. Maybe it was the way she seemed to be in control.”

  Arlene stands up.

  “Then it’s true,” she says, eyes wide. “Cassidy, you have to tell me everything she said.”

  There is a flicker of movement near the windows, and I see Elle staring at me with all the intensity of a raging fire.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “I know who Veronica Klaus is,” Elle says. She walks to the table. “But it’s not my place to tell you about her. There’s someone else you should talk to. Someone here, on the island.”

  “Who?” Chris asks.

  Elle licks her lips.

  “You’ll see,” she promises. “Come on.”

  I do not hesitate to follow the girl and the dog.

  *

  “Welcome to Alcatraz,” Arlene says.

  “Homey, isn’t it?” Manny jokes.

  Alcatraz is many things, but homey is not one of them. The prison building looms on all sides of us, massive and cold. Dark. There are three visible levels, all filled with cells. We walk through an old door on the side of the building and funnel into the cold prison hallways. It is typically old, concrete. Freezing. Cells line the cellblock in three tiered levels. Cell doors are not locked. Cots are piled with blankets and pillows. Soldiers are sleeping in the cells.

  “We figured that as long as we have the facilities, we might as well use them,” Arlene explains. “It’s not a five-star hotel, but at this point, a lot of these men and women have been sleeping in the dirt. So this is a step up.”

  I understand perfectly. I would not be opposed to curling up in a cellblock and taking a nap on a cot, swathed in blankets. In fact, I would consider it a luxury, after having spent two weeks in a cave.

  “I never thought in all my born days that I’d live to see people trying to get into Alcatraz instead of out of it,” Manny chuckles.

  His laughter echoes off the walls, filling the cellblock.

  “There are isolation cells outside the main cellblock housing,” Arlene tells me. “We use those units to treat the sick. It keeps the infections from spreading.”

  “Smart,” I agree. “Have you had any Omega attacks?”

  “No,” Arlene replies. “But Omega has tried to infiltrate the city several times since last year. They’re always watching, therefore we are always on the defensive.”

  Elle and Bravo lead us up a metal staircase, to the second tier of cells. The hall curves around the inside of the cellblock like a steel atrium.

  We reach the end of the block. Elle hovers just outside the final cell on the level. The door is open, and Arlene and Manny stand to the side. On the cot, sitting in a cross-legged position, is a young man. His fine, black hair is shaggy and overgrown, shading almond-shaped eyes and a strong, handsome face. He is dressed in black—boots, pants, shirt and jacket.

  He looks at us as we arrive, unperturbed.

  Elle says, “I’ve brought someone who needs to talk to you.”

  The young man raises a single eyebrow, but he does not move.

  “This is Commander Cassidy Hart, Commander Chris Young and Lieutenants Vera Wright and Andrew Decker,” Arlene announces. “They’ve had contact with Veronica.”

  At this, the young man immediately stands up, brushing his dark hair away.

  “You’ve spoken with her?” he asks, locking eyes with me.

  “Yes,” I say. “What do you know about her?”

  “Too much,” he snorts. “How did you find her?”

  “We didn’t,” I say. “She found us.”

  The young man looks at Elle.

  “Sorry,” she says quietly. “Everyone, this is Cheng. He’s a friend of mine. You can trust him. He can help us.”

  “Might as well be completely honest with them, Elle,” Cheng replies, a Cheshire-smile on his face. “She calls me Cheng,” he goes on, nodding at Elle, “but everyone else calls me Harrison. Harrison Klaus.”

  “You’re related to Veronica?” Chris asks, surprised.

  “Worse, actually.” Cheng smiles. “She’s my mother.”

  “Seriously?” Vera says, staring.

  “I can see the resemblance,” I affirm, noting the dark hair, the attractive features. The boy named Cheng carries himself with the same sense of regality Veronica does. “Can we trust you, Cheng? Are you with us, or with Veronica?”

  “Believe me,” Cheng drawls, “my mother is a master of theatrics. Her dramatic, self-created titles of prestige and grandeur are figments of her imagination. She uses fear to get what she wants. She is an outstanding actress.”

  “Cheng has been in San Francisco longer than we have,” Elle explains, looking at him fondly. “He and I…we were in Sacramento together. I was deployed on your security detail to Monterey at the time, Commander Hart, and we were separated. Until now. I can vouch for his character.”

  “Why did you come to San Francisco, Cheng?” I ask.

  “Information,” he replies simply. “I know things about my mother that could benefit the militia move
ment. And believe me, Commander Hart, you’ll be glad I came.”

  I am not so sure. I do not like Cheng’s attitude, but I trust Elle. The girl is smart and calculating. She would not trust Cheng unless he had proved himself to her in some way.

  I walk into the cell and sit on the cot. Cheng leans against the wall. Chris stands at the mouth of the cell.

  “Tell me what you know,” I say.

  “It’s a long story,” Cheng warns.

  “I want to hear it.” I lean forward, glaring. “And don’t lie to me.”

  He smiles.

  “Of course, Commander.”

  He begins.

  *

  “Elle knows my story already,” Cheng starts. “And so does Bravo.”

  At the sound of his name, the dog’s tail bobs slightly. Cheng grins, and continues. “My mother has been a part of Omega since long before the Collapse,” he says. “Before everything. She was an arms dealer in Austria. I was raised there. Long story short, my mother was very wealthy, and she made millions smuggling weapons into the United States in preparation for the Omega invasion she knew would soon come.”

  “So this was a global effort,” I state. “Everyone was in on this.”

  “Well, not everyone.” Cheng pauses. “Just mostly everyone.”

  “Please continue,” Chris interrupts, his forehead wrinkled, deep in thought.

  “As I was saying,” Cheng goes on. “We were very wealthy. Omega, you must understand, is an organization with ancient roots that has threaded its way through the very fabric of history for centuries. It has knit the leaders and the elite of the world together very carefully and drawn them in collaboration for one purpose: domination. And whether that comes by death or invasion doesn’t matter to them. The point is, nations converged and their time came at last, after centuries of waiting. Which is why you now find yourself in the middle of the most desperate struggle for humanity that mankind has ever known.”

  “Who forms this coalition?” I ask. “Who is Omega?”

  “As I said before, mostly everyone,” Cheng replies. “China, Russia, Italy, France, Spain, the entire Middle East. The supreme elite, dynasties, royal families… the list goes on. Even you.”

  “Us?” Vera echoes.

  “The United States. Don’t think that this wasn’t a plan,” Cheng warns. “Not for a second. There has been nothing that has happened that wasn’t planned carefully for decades. Especially here in the United States.

  “But back to my mother,” Cheng continues. “She became very wealthy through her arms smuggling and manufacturing. We moved to a home on the California coastline. She wanted to watch the world burn, she said. At that time, I made my escape: I ran away. Shortly thereafter, the world collapsed because of the technological attacks on computers and electricity, Omega made themselves known during the invasion, and the war began.”

  “So what does that have to do with your mother?” Chris demands, stony. “Why does she matter? Why is she suddenly the one that Omega has chosen to use as the face to communicate with us?”

  “Because Veronica Klaus is an exceedingly talented woman,” Cheng explains. “I told you, she is an excellent manipulator. But that’s not all. She’s powerful. She controls a large army of mercenaries, and she also has a handle on a big portion of Omega’s weapons. Omega has chosen her to represent the movement because she is beautiful, powerful and terrifying. The survivors here will fear her. They will obey, and Omega knows this.”

  “If there are any survivors left,” Andrew adds, morbidly. “It sounds like Omega is killing everyone on the West Coast who doesn’t comply.”

  “Omega won’t destroy everything,” Cheng assures us. “They want to have something left. The purpose of the invasion is to take over, not annihilate. Remember, elites are elites. They love their money and their power. California is simply too beautiful—too alluring and rich—to destroy with a bomb. The rest of the bombs…they were brutal reminders of how far they will go to intimidate us.”

  “Who controls Veronica?” I ask.

  “Many people. Omega has many heads, Commander Hart,” Cheng says. “It’s impossible to trace it back to one person.”

  “What good does this information do us?” Chris asks, folding his arms across his chest. “It leaves us in the same position: survival.”

  “Well, that’s the interesting part of my story.” Cheng grins. “I came to San Francisco for a reason. When you ask me who controls Omega, I can genuinely tell you that I don’t know everything. But there are leaders—people who exclusively control the West Coast and decide which attacks will be staged where. They call themselves the Western Council. Veronica is a part of this group.”

  “And?” Vera pushes, annoyed. “Get to the point, kid.”

  “And I know where they are meeting,” Cheng tells us, fire dancing in his eyes. “And you can kill them all. Every last one of them.”

  Chapter Five

  I step forward, inches from Cheng’s face. My cheeks flush, and I feel a rush of excitement.

  “Where?” I ask.

  Cheng’s face is nothing but a haughty smile.

  “I need a map,” he replies.

  “Arlene,” I say.

  “We’ll need to go back to the Schoolhouse,” she answers.

  I walk to the door.

  “Come on,” I say. “I want to see.”

  Cheng follows, and so does everyone else. We move through the prison in a silent, determined parade. As we walk, we draw the attention of the soldiers staying in the cells. A few of them recognize Chris, but mostly I hear murmurs about me.

  “…That’s Cassidy Hart…”

  “…she’s a sniper in the militias…”

  “…I heard she’s killed a thousand men…”

  “…No, not a thousand. Maybe a hundred—”

  “Who could miss her? Look at that red hair.”

  They whisper. I hear snatches of their comments. Some of them call me Commander, some of them call me Senator, and some of them call me Shooter. It is strange. Everyone knows me. They know my name, they know what I’ve done, where I’ve fought, and what I’m good at.

  I am known for killing.

  Do I regret my reputation? I search my mind, and there is a twinge of guilt there…but it is gone in a flash.

  No. I do not regret it. I regret nothing.

  I am a fighter, and I will not apologize for defending what I love.

  When we reach the Schoolhouse again, I notice that Cheng is walking close to Elle, although Bravo still follows her. The dog’s ears are tracking. He is calm, but eternally alert. I admire him for that.

  We walk inside and take seats around the table again. Cheng remains standing and peruses the maps on the wall. He suddenly tears one off and slaps it on the table, a wild light in his eyes.

  “Do you believe in legends, Commander?” he asks, looking at me.

  “I believe in just about anything now,” I reply.

  “Good.” He slowly presses his finger to the map, right atop the San Francisco Bay. “This is where we are. My mother…and the Western Council…” He drags his finger away from the bay, past the Golden Gate Bridge. “Are here.” He grins devilishly. “The woods.”

  “The Muir Woods?” I say. “That’s a National Monument.”

  “Remember when I asked you if you believed in legends about ten seconds ago?”

  I fold my arms.

  “Don’t play games with me.”

  “Years ago,” Cheng says, “there was a place called Red Grove. It was a resort of sorts, if you will. I spent many summers there, hidden in the redwood trees, basking in the privacy of the elite. My mother and I had an exclusive home all to ourselves. The world was ours. Servants, food, entertainment. Everything. It was a fantasy that only we were allowed to enjoy. It became legend—conspiracy theory, if you will.”

  “Here?” Vera asks. Her cheeks are pinched pink with cold. “In San Francisco?”

  “In the woods,” Cheng corrects. “
Imagine: a country club for the Western Council. It was a select group of people, and I’m sure you’d be surprised to see who was a part of it.” He pauses and his face falls. “And here they would vacation, silently planning your downfall, on your soil, in unrivaled luxury.”

  “And you were a part of it,” Uriah says suddenly, his voice dark.

  “I was.”

  “That’s a pretty damn good reason for me not to trust you.”

  “Was is a key word here, Lieutenant,” Cheng emphasizes, unaffected. “But as I was saying…Red Grove. It’s still here, and my mother and the Western Council still meet here, and they are there now. Planning and watching. Hiding.”

  “And we’re supposed to take your word for it?” Chris objects. “You’re one of them. You’re Veronica’s son. You could be baiting us.”

  Cheng takes a seat beside Elle, calm.

  “With all due respect, Commander Young,” he says, “you have no idea what she’s like, or what she’s capable of.” He leans forward. “Believe me. You don’t really want to know. Consider yourselves lucky for growing up in a normal household.”

  Silence.

  “Veronica and the council have been hiding in Red Grove since the beginning of the invasion,” Cheng goes on. “It was always their wish to do so. And so they remain here, hidden, and within arm’s reach.”

  “Your mother must know that you have this information about Red Grove,” I state, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t think she and the council would have relocated?”

  “My mother,” Cheng says, “thinks I’m dead.”

  Elle looks at him, surprised.

  He nods, and goes on, “Trust me. They’re in Red Grove.”

  “How many people are in this Western Council?” Manny asks. “One? Two? A hundred? I’ll gladly wander down there and chuck a few grenades into their bungalows. Give them a little thrill.”

  Vera rolls her eyes.

  Andrew, who has remained silent this whole time, says,

  “I say we check it out. Send scouts.”

  “I’m not lying,” Cheng replies. “You’ll find the Grove.”

  Andrew ignores him.

  “What strategic advantage does this give us?” I ask, posing the question that nobody has asked. “If we kill the Western Council—and they’re as powerful and important as you say they are—then who’s to say Omega won’t retaliate with a nuke right here in San Francisco?”