Текст книги "State of Chaos"

Автор книги: Summer Lane

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter Five

Omega should go ahead and give classes in world domination, because they’ve got the formula down to a science. I don’t know how far their invasion extends – or whether or not the United States is the only one affected by it – but I do know this: they’re smart. Organized. Utilizing resources that are already here, enslaving the population that was already in place. Things are working out fine and dandy for them, while the civilian population is being forced to march through cold showers and do manual labor.

Yeah. I’d say people like me could have been better prepared for a situation like this. It’s weird, too. I was probably the only person in Los Angeles with an emergency go-bag, a getaway car and a pre-planned emergency rendezvous point when the EMP hit. I was ready and prepared. Naïve? Yes. Scared? You bet. But I was actually ready. Apparently somebody needs to write a survival manual about labor camps, because now I’m not prepared. I’m at Omega’s mercy, and that seriously ticks me off.

I hate being bossed around.

So yeah. Enslavement isn’t my fantasy job.

But there are things I can do to keep myself alive and well while some of the other prisoners shrivel up and waste away. For one thing, mental stimulation is a big part of keeping myself sharp. I play games with myself. I solve riddles. I recite memory verses. Whatever I can do to keep my mind working. Sophia and I tell each other stories, everything from the Three Little Pigs to Goodnight Moon just to avoid going crazy. Or maybe the fact that we’re reciting Goodnight Moon out loud is a sign of our insanity. Whatever. It helps the time pass quicker.

The food that we get around this place isn’t enough to keep me healthy and strong, either, so Sophia and I have started eating some of the oranges we pick. It’s a potentially lethal situation, because if we get caught eating the food that we’re supposed to be picking, we could very well be killed. Just like that. And I have a feeling Kamaneva would dance a Russian jig over my grave.

The oranges are full of Vitamin C, though, which keeps us healthier than the rest of the prisoners. But I’m sure we’re not the only ones bending the rules. I mean, if you don’t fly under the radar, you’ll die. You’ll burn out and turn into a hollow shell of yourself. I’ve seen it happen.

An older woman named Jenna arrived at the labor camp a few days ago, and she’s already wasting away. She’s retreated far inside of herself, refusing to talk to anybody or eat anything. She worked until she dropped unconscious in the fields and the guards kicked her awake, forcing her back to her job. She’s given up hope. She’s already dead.

I don’t want to turn into that.

I want to live.

I want to see Chris again. And my dad. And the Youngs.

It’s not like it’s the ultimate dream to hang around a death camp for the rest of my life. More like the ultimate nightmare. Because a labor camp will eventually get you to one place: an early grave. Chris would agree with that. He’d tell me to figure a way out of this mess.

Well, I’m trying. There’s not a lot I can do with Kamaneva and her hyperactive guard dogs stalking our every move. It’s not like I can just smuggle in the back of a pickup truck and sneak out the front gate, either. Omega checks and double-checks every vehicle that goes in and out of the camp.

I’m stuck.

Stuck, stuck, stuck.

“We’re not stuck,” Sophia corrects. “We’re enslaved. There’s a difference.”

“Care to elaborate, oh philosophical one?”

“Stuck implies that we can’t move because we just can’t or won’t. We’re actually being temporarily detained by evil people.”

“Like I said. We’re stuck.” My fingers close around an orange, and judging by the amount of growling my stomach is doing, I could really use a little bite of it. “You know what I would give for a big greasy taco right now?”

“What would you give?” she sighs.

“I have no idea. Anything, probably.”

“Me too.”

Well, not anything. I wouldn’t be willing to lose my life over it. Then again, there’s no telling what I might be willing to go through for a taco. Enter my current climate of reasoning, a testament to the fact that I might be taking a ride on the crazy train a lot sooner than I think if I don’t get out of this place.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, approaching us. His bag is slung over his shoulder. “Want to know what I just heard?”

“Let me guess,” I say. “Kamaneva’s going to let us have pudding cups with our meals. Oh, joy.”

“No.” He frowns, looking puzzled. Harry doesn’t get my humor. “I overheard some of the guards discussing the backup generators.”

“What about them?”

“They’re going to start using them for cold storage.”

“Why?” Sophia asks.

“So they can store all of this food we’re harvesting for them,” I say. “They’ve got to be saving this for somebody, because they’re not shipping all of it out anymore.”

“Who do you think is coming?” Harry asks.

“I told you before. Backup.”

“But where is their backup coming from?” Sophia presses.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, thinking.

“We’re on the West Coast, right?”

“Duh.”

“It was a rhetorical question, genius.” I roll my eyes. “What country is closest to us?”

Harry shrugs.

“Oh, come on. China, anybody?”

“You don’t know that China is sending backup troops for Omega. We don’t even know who Omega is anyway,” Sophia replies. “If we don’t know who Omega is, then there’s no way we can know who’s helping them.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “All you have to do is think about all the countries that might have a motive to attack the United States. That’s, like, the entire universe.”

“So you’re saying the whole world is against us?”

“No. I’m saying I think we can be pretty sure that Russia is involved, and maybe North Korea. North Korea doesn’t have enough troops or the technology to invade the United States on their own. China does. China’s entire population is an army.”

“Then which one of those countries sent out the EMP? And who’s nuking the East Coast – if that’s even true?” Sophia asks.

“Does it really matter?” I say. “If they’re all working together, then it was a joint effort. Hooray for teamwork, I guess.”

“Where’s the rest of the world?” Sophia sighs. “What happened to them? Are we the only country affected by this?”

“That’s a good question,” I admit. “I would think one of our allies would come help us out…but not even our own military can help us, so maybe that’s a stupid question.” I stop and look up at Harry, who’s watching me with a curious expression. “What?”

“Nothing.” A small smile appears on his face. “You’re just very good at figuring things out, that’s all.”

“Do I get an A for effort?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever think about escaping?” Sophia whispers suddenly.

Harry and I stiffen at the mention of the “e-word.” That’s a trigger word. Instant death. I lower my voice. “Um, heck yeah. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.”

“It can’t be done, can it?” she stares off through the trees, her gaze stopping at the barbed wire fencing. “We really are…stuck.”

“Nah.” I nudge her shoulder. “I’m willing to give it the old college try at some point, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to end up dead.”

“She’s got a valid point,” Harry says.

“We’ll end up dead either way,” I point out. “Either we’ll be worked to death or we’ll die escaping. One of these days…” I trail off, knowing it’s wiser to keep my mouth shut. Just because the idea of escaping is an attractive thought doesn’t mean I should go blabbing about it. You never know who you can trust, especially in a place like this. It’s like high school on super steroids. Backstabbers, cliques, and nasty teachers all thrown into the same crummy mix. Only the penalty for messing up is a lot worse than suspension.

It’s sudden death.

Fun times, right?

At the end of the day when our work is finally done, the guards round us up and march us back into the school compound. But instead of heading towards the cafeteria like we always do, we stop in what used to be the outdoor cafeteria. Now it’s just a bunch of dead grass. A wilted, hand painted banner is falling off the far wall. It says, Walk for a Cure. I swallow. Reminders of normalcy are everywhere.

And then there’s this.

Kamaneva is waiting patiently in the center of the courtyard, watching the prisoners file in.

“One of you has been stealing from me,” she states.

The lump in my throat turns into a baseball. I can feel Sophia tensing up beside me, so I put a hand on her wrist. I stare straight ahead, motionless. Afraid to give myself away with just the slightest twitch of a facial muscle.

“I don’t know which one of you it is,” she goes on, taking a few calculating steps, “but when I do find out, do you know what the punishment is for stealing from me?”

Nobody answers. We all know. Execution.

Game over.

If I were wearing boots, I’d be shaking in them. Instead all I can do is stand and tremble in my cheap gladiator sandals from a trash bin, avoiding eye contact. Eating oranges have been keeping Sophia and I just a little healthier and stronger than the rest of the women in our group, and if Kamaneva ever notices that, she just might catch on. But right now, the two of us look pretty disheveled and unhealthy despite our efforts. That happens when you haven’t had a bath in weeks and you’re wearing thrift store reject clothes covered in dirt and filth.

Kamaneva studies the group. Her eyes eventually fall on me – like always. I stare at the wall. I will myself to remain emotionless. Just one wrong move and I’m toast. After a nerve-racking five seconds, she moves her gaze to the next person in line. I release a small breath. Sophia squeezes my hand.

By the time we make it into the cafeteria, my knees are almost knocking together because I’m trembling so badly. I sit down with Sophia at our spot in the corner. Harry approaches us. “What was that all about?” he wonders. “Was that really necessary on Kamaneva’s part?”

“She’s just trying to scare us,” I say.

Harry doesn’t know that Sophia and I “borrow” oranges. The less people know, the better. The more people who know your secrets, the higher the potential for them to betray you.

“Well, I’m effectively scared,” Harry replies.

“Who knows if somebody’s really even stealing from her?” I say. “She could have made up the whole story just to put everybody on edge. To keep us all on our best behavior.”

Harry shrugs.

“It’s possible, I suppose.”

Yeah. It’s possible.

I concentrate on eating my food. It feels like everybody is watching me, waiting for me to give myself away. It’s miserable. It’s the prison camp environment. Nobody trusts anybody else, and everyone’s afraid of being stabbed in the back.

Maybe I was right.

Maybe this is a lot more like high school than I thought.

Chapter Six

Four weeks in a labor camp is enough to make anyone grouchy. My clothes are worn through with holes and my body is coated with a thick layer of dirt. I’m slowly starving, dehydrated, lonely, scared and desperate to escape. The only problem is, there isn’t any easy way out of this stupid camp.

Thirty days of observation has only told me two things that might be considered a weakness:

1. Even with all of the trucks and plumbing Omega has inside the school complex, the portable generators that they’ve installed isn’t enough to keep all the lights in the camp running. The back stretch of the fence is dark, but as far as I can tell, heavily patrolled.

2. Grease, the Omega soldier with the bad hair, seems to have gained sympathy for Sophia and I. He might come in handy.

3. I’ve pretty much got the routine of the guards figured out, and I know which troopers are lazier or less intelligent than the rest.

Omega is armed, powerful and dangerous. I, on the other hand, am tired, tiny and afraid. There’s nothing I can do. Omega never slips up. They don’t leave weapons lying around for me to steal. They don’t leave stretches of the fence unguarded. They’re on top of everything, and Kamaneva is on top of everybody in Group 13. The woman has gotten considerably crueler in the last couple of weeks. She’s started daily torture treatments and public punishments to keep the workforce under control. Every once in a while one of the officers will round up the prisoners, grab a worker for a real or imagined violation of a regulation, and beat or execute them on the spot.

It keeps everybody in line.

Omega has moved us from orange fields to empty fields. They’re making us prepare for planting, although I’m not sure what we’re going to plant yet. I’m guessing it will be something high in nutritional value. Something to keep an army going. And judging by the amount of prisoners being brought in and forced to work, I’m guessing Omega is planning on hosting a whole lot of troops. Soon.

That’s not a rosy prospect.

Everybody has a different idea about who Omega is, why they’re here, and what they want. In my opinion, it’s really not that much of a mystery anymore. Omega is a cover name to keep us confused. Global forces are involved. There’s no other explanation. They need slave labor to keep the invading troops fed, and who better than to provide that kind of work than people like me?

But what is their final goal? What’s the point of this invasion?

Power, wealth or greed, probably. The usual suspects. Besides. Who wouldn’t want to take down the United States, right?

“If you ever get the chance to escape,” I tell Sophia and Harry over dinner one night, “take it. Don’t wait for anybody else. Don’t think. Just go. Take the opportunity.”

“I couldn’t leave without you,” Sophia says firmly.

I close my eyes, because I don’t believe that. In the end, it all comes down to self-preservation. If Sophia saw an opening to escape, she’d take it without looking back. So would Harry.

And so would I.

Wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t Chris?

Yes. Chris would escape and then find a way to come back and get me out. He would never throw away an opportunity to stay alive. He’s just that kind of person.

“I just…” I begin, but trail off. “I appreciate that.”

“You’re all I have.” Sophia’s eyes go glassy with tears. “We’re like family now.”

“I’m sure your family is alive in New York,” I say, touching her shoulder.

“Not if the rumors are true and New York was nuked.” Sophia hunches closer to the table, looking at the floor. “Then they’re all dead. My parents, my brother…they’d be gone.”

“We don’t know if that’s true.”

“I heard all the major cities were nuked,” Harry adds.

I slap his arm as Sophia pales a little more.

“I mean…not all. Just some.” He tries to smile. “Honestly, how are we supposed to separate reality from rumors?”

“With common sense,” I say.

Easier said than done. At that moment, Kamaneva walks into the cafeteria. She’s wearing her blue uniform, knee-high boots and signature skin-stretching bun. Her eyes scan the room. She slowly walks down the center aisle of the cafeteria. Everyone stops eating. Sudden silence falls over the room.

Kamaneva stops at our table. Sophia keeps her head down. Harry’s fingers are trembling around the brim of his soup bowl. And I’m the only one who’s not afraid to look Kamaneva in the eye. I don’t say a word. Not that there isn’t a lot of sarcasm dying to get out of me…I just know better than to challenge her that bluntly.

She motions for me to stand up. I do.

“I believe I’ve found our thief,” she purrs.

And there it is. Just like that. A lead weight drops to the pit of my stomach as a twisted sneer spreads across her face. I can tell she’s been waiting for this moment. It’s got to be the highlight of her day. She’ll probably write about it in her journal later.

Dear Diary,

Tonight I screwed up some poor prisoner’s life. Epic win.

Love,

Kamaneva

Nice.

I glance back at Harry and Sophia, but their eyes are glued to the floor. Harry is shaking. They look worse than I do.

“How—” I begin, but Kamaneva cuts me off.

“I have my sources,” she says.

Her eyes flick to Harry. He swallows and the food I just ate turns over in my stomach. He won’t look at me.

“You…?” I whisper.

He still doesn’t say anything.

“Why?” I demand, tears springing to my eyes.

Sophia is shocked. Frozen. Kamaneva wraps her fingers around my arm and pulls me away from the table, pushing me towards two Omega troopers. Sophia suddenly starts screaming.

“You traitor!” she shrieks, lunging at Harry.

He crashes to the ground with Sophia on top of him, either trying to choke him or tear the hair out of his head. Maybe a combination of both. Kamaneva watches in silence. Guards break up the fight, and when Sophia is hauled to her feet, her face is covered with tears. Harry is crying, too.

Add me to the list.

“She made me tell you,” Harry says. “I swear, Cassidy, I wouldn’t do anything like this unless—”

“—Unless your life depended on it?” I snort. “I guess it did.”

He nods, fisting his hands and sinking to the ground.

Kamaneva and her guards drag me outside. The next thing I know, I’m being led through the school to a storage building behind the complex. And the whole time, all I can think is:

Harry betrayed me.

“What did you do to Harry?” I demand, shooting daggers at Kamaneva with my eyes. “What did you threaten him with?”

Kamaneva doesn’t answer. She just continues looking smug.

“You made him do that.” I struggle against the guards, total rage turning my vision red. “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much? I never did anything to you!”

“You’re alive,” Kamaneva snaps, cold. “My daughter should have been alive.”

The storage facility is a small building with a tiny window in the top of the wall. The guards open the doors and throw me inside. I land on my hands and knees, looking at a blank room. It’s empty. Not even a bench or a bucket to use for a toilet.

“So you want to kill me and Sophia because your daughter died?” I shake my head. “You’re insane.”

Kamaneva flushes and lands a heavy kick to my side. I double over and jump to my feet, drawing back. “Only one of you has to die,” she hisses. “It’s only fair.”

“I’m not the one who killed your daughter.”

“My daughter died around your age.” Kamaneva’s features don’t soften. They remain steely and emotionless.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I say.

She looks me up and down. “The prisoners have to be kept in line. You violated the rules. You have until morning.”

She turns around so fast I swear she’s going to fall over, but she doesn’t. The guards slam and lock the heavy door behind them. The building is plunged into darkness. It’s cold. Empty. Creepy. I pace up and down, trying to process everything that just happened.

Harry turned me in for stealing. Kamaneva must have given him something in return. Extra rations? A bed to sleep on? Who the heck knows? She’s just a borderline sociopath who loves the drama of dragging out an execution. I had no idea the woman hated me that much. Scratch that. Hated Sophia and me. What’s worse, Chris was right. I really can’t trust anybody.

Harry betrayed me.

You don’t know what Kamaneva did to him to get him to do this, my conscious points out. She probably threatened to have him killed. He didn’t have a choice.

No. We all have a choice. I never would have betrayed Sophia or Harry.

And Chris never would have betrayed me.

I curl up in a ball in the front corner of the building. My mouth is dry, my heart is beating fast. A wave of fear like I’ve never experienced before in my life crashes over me. Tears blur my vision.

Tomorrow, Kamaneva will come back for me.

Tomorrow, I’ll be executed.

Chapter Seven

I’ve been in life or death situations before. How many times did I almost die when I was trying to find my father after the EMP hit? More times than I’d like to count. But this is different, because all you can do is sit and wait for death to come knocking at your door. You can’t fight it, you can’t do anything about it. You can only hope something scares it away and gives you a little extra time to stick around.

But that’s not going to happen. Not now.

Dawn has broken outside, and slits of sunlight are falling through the single window near the roof of the storage building. I’m standing with my back pressed against the far wall, studying the words and phrases etched into the wall by prisoners that have been locked in here before me. Everything from names and dates to Bible verses has been scratched into the paint. Somebody wrote:

Rose Leland

Reedley, California

Don’t Forget Me

A final note. I fight the tears prickling behind my eyes. Breaking down isn’t going to do any good at this point. My fate is sealed. And now that the hysterics have passed and I’ve accepted this fact, I’m swamped with an eerie calm feeling.

It’s like being stuck in a dream. It doesn’t seem real, but it is. I’m totally spaced out. I keep rubbing my thumb along the gold shield necklace Chris gave me so many months ago. If he knew I was about to die, would he tell me he loved me? I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know.

But I can hope.

Thirty minutes after sunrise, I hear footsteps approaching the building. My muscles tense. Everything gets sharper, louder. My fear is a physical thing. I’m going to die. I’ll be executed just like everybody else Kamaneva has ever made an example of. Nobody will even remember that I existed.

Suddenly frightened at the prospect of being forgotten, I pick up a small shard of metal from the floor. I scratch my name into the dark paint on the wall, leaving CASSIDY HART in white letters. Underneath it I put my age, 19. There. At least I’ve memorialized myself somewhere. It’s not like I’m going to get a funeral. They’ll probably throw my dead body into a ditch…

The door rattles, breaking me out of my morbid thoughts. Kamaneva steps inside, four Omega guards with her. I tilt my head to look up at her from my crouched position on the floor. She takes in my appearance and smiles – not in a friendly, fuzzy way, either. It’s more like a twisted leer of satisfaction.

So not helping.

“Ready?” she asks.

I say nothing. I simply glare.

Two Omega guards pull me upright, and that’s when I notice that one of the troopers with Kamaneva is Grease. He’s looking at me with sad eyes. I lock gazes with him and he frowns before looking away.

And that’s it.

I’m taken out of the storage building and led through the center of the school. We pass the LAB and the cafeteria. By the time I’m brought to the front of the school, there’s a big crowd of POWs. A curving section of the road dips close to the front sidewalk, widening near a few steps that lead to a dried up fountain. It used to be a school bus parking area. Now it’s a stage for prisoner executions.

I also realize that all of the POW groups in the labor camp are gathered around. Hundreds of them. Kamaneva has turned this into a bloody circus performance.

I’m led to the center of the road, up the steps to the fountain. The Omega troopers release me. Kamaneva takes a step forward and gestures to Grease, looking him over.

“Kill her,” she says.

He blanches, frozen. I don’t even try to resist. Why would I? I’ll be shot if I attempt to escape, and I’ll be shot if I don’t. I’m a dead girl either way. Escape isn’t happening.

“Let this be a lesson to everyone here,” Kamaneva growls, stalking around the circle like an angry cat. “Look at Cassidy Hart and witness what happens if you disobey.”

I raise my head, suddenly angry,

A rush of satisfaction fills my heart. It’s as if the crowd of prisoners isn’t even there. There’s no stage fright, no humiliation. I’m furious and hey, I’m about to be executed. I might as well say what I want to say.

“You can kill me,” I state, lifting my chin higher, “and you can kill everybody else in this camp. But you can’t kill the desire to be free. Somebody will take you down. It will happen.”

Kamaneva’s jaw is tight. Her cheeks redden.

“You’re replaceable.”

“I’ve got news for you,” I reply. “You’re replaceable, too.”

The crowd murmurs softly. Kamaneva’s eyes dart to Grease.

“Give me your weapon,” she commands, referring to the handgun he’s holding. “Let’s get this over with.”

I swallow and fist my hands at my sides.

So this is how it ends for Cassidy Hart? She gets shot in the head by a crazy woman at a bus stop? Not the glamorous death I’d envisioned for myself. I’d always pictured myself dying some kind of tragic death where I get put in a glass coffin and people look at me lying there and say nice things about me.

Not that I have an ego or anything.

“Any final words?” Kamaneva asks, taking Grease’s weapon.

“Yeah.” I make a monumental effort to keep my lower lip from trembling. “I didn’t go down without a fight.” I turn to the crowd. “And neither should any of you!”

Kamaneva lifts the gun, pointblank range, muzzle to my forehead.

This is it. My ears fill with the frantic beating of my heart. My vision turns hazy as I stare down the cold, steely bore of the gun. I blink and tears run down my cheeks. I curl my fingers into fists to control my shaking.

I hear the crack of a gunshot and jerk backwards, expecting a short burst of pain. Light at the end of a tunnel. Blood. Something. But instead I just hear a lot of screaming. I open my eyes and stare at Kamaneva. She’s on the ground, shrieking in pain, clutching her side. Blood is soaking her jacket.

A long burst of automatic fire erupts, and a second later two Omega guards are sprawled dead on the ground. The prisoners freak out. They start running in all directions, panic setting in. I search the trees and the school property line for the source of the gunfire but I don’t see anything. Omega guards are shoving and firing.

I leap to my feet and sprint away from Kamaneva, weaving my way into the panicked mob. Omega guards are scrambling to close the gate around the prison, randomly firing into the crowd. In the midst of the chaos, Grease shoves his way through the crowd and grabs my arms.

“Come on!” he yells.

I jerk away and plunge into the crowd, squirming out of his reach.

“Cassidy, if you want to live you have to stay with me,” he continues, chasing after me. I ignore him, fear pumping through my system. Well, fear and a lot of shock. I came way too close to getting shot in the head.

“Cassidy, I’m with Chris!” Grease shouts.

I spin around, staring at him.

“You have to believe me,” he says.

Stunned, I open my mouth to reply, but my words are lost as a massive explosion rocks the school. I’m thrown backwards by the impact. Heat hits my face and the front stretch of the gate outside the administrative building bursts into pieces. Heat and flames lick around the edges. Omega troops as well as prisoners are flat on their backs (or faces), groping around, trying to regain their balance. My ears are ringing and my hearing is temporarily out of order, making everything just that much more confusing.

A wave of men start pushing through the front entrance, guns blazing, systematically working their way onto the property. I struggle to my feet, looking at their clothes. Worn pants and boots, rifles. Blue bands of cloth tied around their upper right arms.

Blue?

I search the crowd for Grease. He’s saying something, but between the ringing in my ears and the background noise, I can barely make it out. Something like, Follow me!

“You’re with Chris Young?” I ask.

He nods.

There’s no way logic can even factor into what I do next. I jump up and follow the man because of two words: Chris Young. As I struggle to keep up with Grease, a trooper on the ground jams his boots into my legs, knocking me off my feet. I hit the ground hard. The air rushes out of my lungs.

I roll to the side, just out of his reach, and crawl towards an Omega man who’s unconscious on the ground. As I do, the rapid sound of gunfire peppers the camp as the mystery men with the blue armbands flood the area, picking off…Omega soldiers.

They’re not hurting prisoners.

Realization slowly dawns. Omega is being attacked. By the good guys. Whoever the “good guys” are. I don’t know and I don’t care. I grab an obnoxiously huge gun off the unconscious trooper’s body and get to my feet, determined to do something to help.

I have no idea where Grease went. I lost him in the crowd. I look over the weapon, trying to figure out how to operate it. No such luck. It’s about as alien to me as a UFO. I just squeeze the trigger…barely. A spray of bullets razes the administrative wall next to me, hitting a few Omega troopers in the process. I let go of the trigger and take a few steps backwards, blinking at the downed men.

Oh. That would be my handiwork, I guess.

Five Omega men are charging towards the front gate, preparing to take on the advancing enemy – the Blue Bands. I squeeze the trigger again and take the whole group down with one sweep of the gun. I don’t think they’re dead. I was aiming low. Their legs have been shot out from under them, sending them sprawling.

I swallow, and a shout of exhilaration bursts out of my mouth as adrenaline surges like fire in my veins.

This is war, isn’t it?

I squeeze the trigger again in an attempt to scare off some more troopers from the front gate but I don’t get anything but an empty click. Nothing. I drop it to the ground. I don’t know enough about weapons to figure out how to load it and fire it again. I just turn to run, smacking into Grease. He grabs me by the arms.

“Not bad shooting, kid,” he says. “For a girl.”

“Jerk.”

“You need to come with me now.”

He keeps a steady grip on my arm.

“Where?” I demand, hesitating. “Where’s Chris?”

Another explosion detonates on the other side of the schoolyard. The sound of glass shattering and people screaming fills the air. Black, acrid smoke fills the sky, making my eyes tear up.

“I’m taking you to Chris.” He pulls me forward. “Look, I’m not the enemy here. I just killed Kamaneva for you.”

“Whoa. You?”

And that’s the extent of our five-second conversation. Because all hell has broken loose in the school. Windows are being blown out, bullets are flying everywhere. Prisoners are sprinting away from the building and Omega troopers are rushing around the perimeter, trying to close the civilians in and keep the Blue Bands out.

It’s not working very well.

“We’re in trouble,” Grease says.

I follow his line of sight. A few Omega troops are pointing at Grease, and next thing I know, we’re being fired at. I duck for cover behind the edge of the front administrative building, barely missing a bullet to the head.