by Summer Lane
“You will try.”
I realize in this moment that there is no negotiating with this woman. There is nothing that I can say or do that will please her, other than my surrender or betrayal. And I will give her neither. Yes, I fear seeing the deaths of all those I love, but it will not stop me from protecting them, or for standing up for what I believe in.
She will not scare the love and loyalty out of me.
Not today.
“Veronica,” I say, refusing to address her by her title. “I will not betray my men. And I will not surrender. You won’t find anyone in the militias who will.”
“Is that so?” she asks. “What about Jack Proper? I turned his head easily enough. And how about Sophia Rodriguez, your dearly departed friend? You know. The girl you killed, in the end?”
“I didn’t kill her,” I snap, flushed. “Omega did.”
“She turned to us. She understood the odds.”
“She wasn’t strong enough.”
“How about Harry Lydell?”
“Harry is a coward. Omega got him nowhere.”
“Because he is a coward,” Veronica sneers. “He was useful to me, for a time. But when you captured him, his usefulness diminished.” “So you tried to have him killed.”
“Technically, I did nothing.” She looks pleased with herself. “I warned him. He failed to heed the warning. Perhaps he’ll listen next time.”
“You’re a wonderful leader, Veronica,” I say, flatly.
“I’m not a diplomat, darling,” Veronica cackles. “I’m a strategist. I’m a leader.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“So be it. I do what I must to attain what I need.”
I fold my arms across my chest.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I say, swallowing the fear in my throat. “You pull your battleships off the coastline for a parlay, and we can meet with Commander Young and the rest of the militia leaders. We can come to an agreement. We’ll negotiate.”
I look her straight in the eye. I don’t want her to see the fear in my face, so I will myself to be steely—to be brave. I don’t want her to grasp the threads of my hope. If Veronica pulls her battleships back for even one hour, the militia will have time to make a retreat from San Francisco, and thousands of lives will be saved.
That’s all I want. I don’t care about negotiating.
I know that there is no negotiating with evil.
“That’s a dazzling idea,” Veronica drawls, her eyes narrowing to slits, “but you committed an unforgivable act. Insufferable.”
I wait for her to explain.
“You killed the Western Council,” she hisses. Her pales cheeks blossom with a furious red flush. “All of them, hung by their heels on a cable in one of the most sacred Omega retreats on the planet. That is unforgivable. A crime punishable only by death.”
Her expression is one of pure rage, and that gives me satisfaction. That despite the grisly act that we performed by killing the Western Council, we have succeeded in scaring Veronica—and scaring Omega.
“You really believe that the rest of your leadership circle will agree to parlay with Omega?” Veronica goes on, drilling her iron gaze into mine. “Well? Do you?”
“Yes.” It is such a lie. I know that they will not negotiate—especially not Chris. “If they know that you have me, they’ll talk. What is it you want, Veronica? We can negotiate with you.”
“I want it all,” she says simply. “Everything.”
“So easy to please,” I deadpan.
“I try, darling.” She gives me a sideways glance. “You are many things, Commander Hart, but you are not a traitor. I may have underestimated your ability to…stand firm, so to speak.” She takes a seat on the chair. “And as noble as your efforts are, let’s just be honest with each other. The militias are never going to surrender. They’re too damn stubborn and annoyingly idealistic. So. They must be forced to make a choice: surrender to me, or I will unleash more than a foot army. I will poison them all—every last one of them. Their dead bodies will rot on the streets.”
“A chemical weapon,” I say.
“Yes.”
I know the effects of chemical weapons. Los Angeles is gone because of it. Millions of people perished at the invisible hands of sarin gas, a deadly poison that kills on contact.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” she says. “Your efforts are noble, but ineffective. San Francisco will perish, and you’re going to watch it burn. And then, I’m going to kill you, too. You will die with the knowledge that you failed, and that everything you love is being torn away from you, because you chose to be heroic, and you chose to stand for something that is dead.”
Her voice is venomous, full of poison.
Terrified tears threaten to flood my eyes, but I hold them at bay, fixing a deadly stare on Veronica.
“I will kill you,” I tell her. “That’s a promise.”
She says nothing. The door slams open and two guards return.
“Take the Commander,” Veronica says. “Keep her alive for now.”
I am led out of the room, away from the woman who holds my fate in her hands. Outside, Jack Proper is waiting.
“Come with me,” he mutters.
It’s not like I have a choice. I follow him, my wrists still cuffed behind my back, down a dirt path that curves around the back of the island. The guards stay at the building with Veronica, leaving Jack to guard me by himself.
No one is worried about me escaping.
We walk in silence, Veronica’s threats pounding inside my head like a cruel pulse, filling me with doubt and apprehension. There is something about her…something dark. Something in her heart that is foul and wicked, and it is infecting the way my mind thinks.
Don’t let her mess with your head. That’s what she wants.
But her threats are not empty, and I know it. A chemical weapon would kill everyone in San Francisco and still preserve the city for Omega to use. Just like Cheng said. Omega won’t destroy the city…but they will destroy us.
There are several small boats docked here, able to fit about forty or fifty soldiers. They are empty. A concrete boathouse sits alone here. Jack takes me inside and shoves me in the corner. It’s cold.
“You said you had an agreement with Veronica,” I say suddenly.
Jack flinches.
“What does she have?” I demand. “What is she hanging over your head? What is it that’s controlling you, Jack?”
He pauses at the door, shuddering.
“My wife,” he says quietly. “She’s dying. Omega promised me help, medicine. Veronica herself said she would provide my wife with the appropriate treatment.”
“Let me guess,” I reply. “She hasn’t provided you with it yet.”
“No.”
“She’s not going to. She’s using you, Jack.”
He turns around, flushed, furious.
“How the hell do you know?” he demands. He grabs me by the throat. I gasp for breath, unable to fight him off with my hands, bound as they are. “I’ve given up EVERYTHING for this! Everything!”
He throws me against the wall. I regain my balance, looking at his flushed face, at the tears in the corners of his eyes.
“The only loser in this situation is you,” I pant. “And you know it.”
Jack takes a deep breath, glares at me, and slams the door shut, locking me in the darkness of the boathouse.
Chapter Fourteen
I’ve got a splitting headache.
The building is empty and the windows are covered with boards, shedding small slits of light into the room. I sit against the wall, clenching my teeth. I look down at my stomach. My shirt is crusted over with dried blood from my open wound. I check the area. It’s not infected, but it still throbs with a dull pain.
I lean my head against the wall and take deep, even breaths.
Judging by the light coming into the room, I would say I’ve only been here for a few hours. I pull my knees to my chest and w
ince, pain racing through my ribcage and ricocheting inside my skull.
Veronica is going to unleash a chemical weapon.
That knowledge rings in my head like an alarm bell. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and warn the militia what’s coming—but I can’t. I am trapped here, in a boathouse, on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
There is no escape for me.
And now, rather than dying with my friends in the heat of battle, they are going to die before my eyes, in one ballistic stroke. And then, after I have seen the death of the city, Veronica will kill me, and Omega will push into the coast, and Northern California will belong to the enemy.
But it won’t matter, because I will be dead, and it will be over.
Way to give yourself a pep talk, Cassidy, I think.
But even my inner sarcasm can’t cheer me up. I am wounded and scared, separated from Chris and my friends, and there is nothing I can do to stop the mass slaughter that Veronica is about to bring upon San Francisco.
Boom, boom, boom.
I hear boots on the dock. It is the first time I have heard footsteps in hours. Mostly I can only hear the distant sounds of bombs and the occasional spray of machinegun fire.
I wonder how much of San Francisco is left.
The door to the boathouse swings open. It’s Jack Proper. His eyes are dark and hooded as he pauses at the threshold, assessing my condition. I brace myself for an attack.
“No,” he says. “It’s okay.”
I stare at him.
He goes on, “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.”
“I’ve got a good reason to think otherwise,” I snap.
I gesture to the black and blue bruises on my neck.
“I…” He sighs. “I’m sorry.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Look,” he says. “You’re right. About Veronica. She’s just using me. I know that now. This was supposed to seal our deal—she was supposed to help my wife.”
I say nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he goes on, his voice breaking. “She’s too far gone. It’s too late—she’s going to die. I can’t change that.” A tear slips down his cheek. “But I can change myself.”
He holds his hand out.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I can get you off this island,” he replies, shaky. “But you’ll have to trust me.”
I look at him closely.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“Redemption,” he replies, without hesitation. “I’m not a bad man, Commander. I told you, I didn’t kill Eli or his daughters. Veronica sent her own personal assassins to do that. I was instructed to kill Harry Lydell, and I failed.” He looks defeated. “I failed because I’m not a killer. I failed because I didn’t want to succeed.”
I don’t know if I can believe him. But right now, he just might be my best shot to make it out of this crappy situation alive.
I stand up, dizzy, and clutch the wall.
“Here,” Jack says, dropping something into my hand. “Pain meds. I figured you’d need them.”
I look at the two white, oval pills in my palm. They could be poison, for all I know. But do I really care at this point?
No.
I toss the pills into my mouth and swallow them dry, feeling them travel down my throat, into my chest.
“Let’s do this,” I tell Jack.
He nods.
“I’m taking the helicopter to one of the battleships off the coast,” he says. “But I can take you to the mainland before I hit the deck. Nobody will ever know. I can have you there in fifteen minutes.”
“How are you going to get me into the chopper?” I ask.
“With this.”
He disappears around the corner and reappears after several moments, dragging a limp body behind him. It is one of the many Omega guards on the island. He is unconscious.
“Take his uniform,” Jack instructs.
I don’t hesitate. I get down on my hands and knees and strip his jacket, pants and visor.
“What about you?” I ask, pulling the pants on over mine. “Veronica will kill you once she realizes what you’ve done.”
“Yes,” he answers. “She will.”
I pull on the jacket, tuck it into the pants, and gather my hair into a loose bun, smashing it under the helmet and visor.
“So come with me,” I tell him. “Be a part of the militias again.”
“It’s too late for me,” he answers, eyes hooded.
“It’s not,” I insist, placing my hand on his arm.
“I just want to be with my wife,” he says softly.
He hands me my rifle and the rest of the weapons he took from me in San Francisco. I buckle my thigh-straps, slip my guns in, and sling the rifle over my shoulder.
“Come on,” he says. “Follow me. Don’t talk, don’t say anything. Just let me take the lead.”
I follow him out of the boathouse. He closes the door and bars it from the outside, making it appear that I am still a prisoner inside. I strain to see through the visor over my eyes, but I don’t dare lift it up, or I will reveal my face.
“Try this,” Jack suggests.
He taps the side of the helmet and the visor glows a dull green. I stumble, surprised. The visor turns into a thin computerized screen, displaying information and pinging radio chatter. Jack taps the helmet again and everything fades away to night vision, illuminating the island in tones of black and green.
“Incredible,” I say. “What kind of technology is this?”
“They kind you can’t compete with,” Jack says, grimly.
I follow him, able to see everything now. I see the guards standing near Veronica’s hideaway. I am seized with the urge to break into the building and kill her—a perfect assassination. But I know that I can’t.
I would be killed. I am vastly outnumbered here.
My best bet is to escape and warn the militias of what’s coming.
Jack and I head toward the airstrip, where a helicopter is slowly beating its blades against the night sky. There is a pilot in the cockpit and two guards waiting outside of the chopper, awaiting Jack’s arrival.
I remain calm. I act like a personal bodyguard, staunch and expressionless, bulky in my double layers of uniforms, my face shielded by the night-vision visor.
Jack says something to the guards in Russian.
He climbs into the chopper and I follow. It’s a small aircraft, with only one row of seats behind the pilot’s seat. The door slams shut, and it is just the pilot and us. Jack sits directly behind him. I can smell his fear—the fear of what he has just done, and what he is about to do.
More chatter in Russian. The chopper lifts off the ground, and the guards on the airstrip become smaller and smaller. The swarming mass of Omega troops on the island fade into the distance as the chopper pulls away, heading toward the coastline.
I remain unmoving, silent, like a good Omega trooper.
When we are a good distance away from the island, Jack pulls a handgun out of his holster and jams it into the back of the pilot’s neck.
He growls threateningly in a language I understand a little of, thanks to my interaction with plenty of Omega troops: German.
“Nicht bewegen, und du wirst leben,” Jack snarls.
Don’t move, and you’ll live.
The pilot freezes up. Jack rips the helmet off his head and tosses it into the back of the chopper, taking his headset with it. The pilot is young, fair-haired. But he is not afraid. I can see that right away. He is angry. His eyes spark, and his jaw clenches.
He’s going to be a tough case.
“Nehmen uns an das Ufer. Werden schnell über sie!” Jack commands, digging the muzzle of the gun deeper into the pilot’s skin.
Take us to shore – quickly!
The pilot nods, slowly.
I take the helmet and visor off, letting my red hair fall over my shoulders.
&nbs
p; “Amerikanische hündin!” he spits, glaring at me.
I wince, recognizing a derogatory insult better off ignored. Jack slams the gun against the side of the pilot’s head.
I check my rifle and the handguns. I have enough rounds to get me back to Alcatraz, as long as I don’t run into too much trouble. I slip out of the Omega uniform and discard it under the seat. The medication that Jack gave me earlier is starting to kick in, and the shooting pain in my head and ribs has greatly diminished, now nothing more than a dull throb.
The helicopter cuts through the night sky. I look through the windows, solemnly watching the eternal trail of mortars and rockets sailing back and forth between the city and the battleships. They explode like bloody red fireworks in the air, filling the sky with smoke.
I turn away and look toward the shoreline. I can see it. It’s not far off.
The pilot is muttering expletives in German under his breath. Sweat slicks down his face, plastering his uniform to his body.
“Can he understand English?” I ask Jack.
“No,” he replies.
“Good.” I pause. “Are you going to kill him?”
Jack thinks about it.
“I don’t know.”
I say nothing.
Jack barks a few more commands in German and the helicopter takes a sudden dip to the left. I see the shore whiz by below us. I see trees. I see the remains of the Golden Gate Bridge. It is ghastly. It looks like an enormous beast took a massive bite out of the middle of the structure and left the burning carcasses of thousands behind.
The helicopter slows and the pilot circles an area just outside of the city, beyond the bridge. Because I was blindfolded the last time I took this ride, it’s hard to say if this is the same landing spot Omega used when they were transporting me to the island.
I imagine it is.
The helicopter begins losing elevation as the pilot concentrates on his landing, painfully aware of the gun at his neck. The surrounding area is little more than an abandoned area of the suburbs.
The chopper touches the ground.
I exhale a sigh of relief.
“Werden sie mich jetzt beenden?” the pilot grits out.
“He wants to know if we’re going to kill him now,” Jack says.
I tilt my head.