Текст книги "State of Rebellion"

Автор книги: Summer Lane

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

The beginning of the end doesn’t look or sound anything like I thought it would. There is no lineup of opposing forces on a large field. No long pause as we stare at each other. No trumpet. No epic charge. No horses with chariots or Roman warriors with spears.

It simply begins.

The militia is arranged in a unique pattern. Platoons divided into groups of one hundred have pushed on ahead like the tip of a spear, allowing Chris and I to infiltrate the bubble of advancing Omega troops. The platoons up front bear the brunt of the first assault. The rest of the militia buries itself into the hillside, hiding in the small ravines and ditches. Guerrilla warfare at its finest. This is where our skillset will be applied in the most desperate of situations.

A wall of vehicles and limited tanks block the exit down the interstate at the bottom of the canyon – the Grapevine. And I am lying in the tall grass on the side of a hill, watching the open freeway below us. Chris is near my side. Vera and Angela are with Legion. Derek, Max and Sophia are with one of the platoons closer to the frontlines.

Technically we’re all on the frontlines, but still. They’re closer.

“Watch em’ come around the corner,” Uriah mutters, crouching next to me. “They’ll be expecting something. They know we’re out here.”

“We’ll surprise them anyway.”

He doesn’t look too sure. He flicks his long, slender fingers over the stock of his rifle, taking a position next to me. “We’ll see if your reputation as a great sniper is true or not,” he remarks.

“Don’t get your hopes too high.”

“Hope? I don’t have hope anymore. Just common curiosity.”

I roll my eyes, never pulling my gaze from the scene below. The interstate curves slightly, and where the corner hides the rest of the freeway from sight, a line of soldiers appear. They are not wearing the uniform of an Omega soldier. Their clothing is midnight black, a slash of red on the sleeve. The red is the only distinguishing difference between them and the uniform of a mercenary.

Red in Chinese culture symbolizes joy and happiness, a teacher once told me in High School. That is why brides often wear red wedding dresses in China when they are married.

I watch them closely through my scope, noting their black helmets, boots and vests. Black is considered a neutral color in Chinese culture, the same teacher also said. I stare at their faces. The pale skin. The dark, cropped hair. I grip my rifle much too tight, hit with the feeling that I’m no longer holding a deadly weapon – just a toy.

“Steady,” Chris breathes, holding his hand out. Reminding us to wait.

It is not my job to take the first shot today.

They keep coming around the corner, and I can’t help but think that they look like a leaky faucet. Slowly spreading across the ground. Like water. Like ants.

“Chris…” I say. “There’s got to be at least three hundred right now.”

“Hold.”

I take a deep breath. Uriah is motionless beside me.

I scan the crowd of Chinese with my scope. I can’t pinpoint a leader among this group. Wherever he is, he’s well hidden, and they’re trickling in for a reason. They’re anticipating guerilla war fighters. They’re anticipating us.

I stop looking down the scope for a second. I close my eyes. I say a brief, unspoken prayer that we’ll all come out of this alive, and then I look at Chris.

He’s watching me. Wordlessly. Silently.

The middle of the flood of Chinese troops explodes. I grit my teeth, steeling my nerves. The troops are tossed into the air like rag dolls, sprays of cement and mud and body parts hurling through the air. For the first time, the Chinese seem to realize what we have done.

“Good boy, Max,” Chris says.

Max, Derek, Sophia and the rest of their divided platoons have planted enough land mines on and around the freeway to blow up the forward advancing forces. The smell of smoke and burning flesh waft up the hill. I keep my lips together, not quite enough of a warrior yet to avoid feeling at least a little nauseous from the stench.

The Chinese scatter. It looks like hundreds of red water droplets running down the interstate. It’s obvious to them now that they will have to leave the path of the freeway and climb down the hills themselves if they don’t want to get their legs and arms blown off.

Finally, something actually goes according to plan.

As grim as it is, this is the only way to get the Chinese to deviate from their course and weaken their forces. Drive them into the hills. Drive them straight into our waiting arms, so to speak. Our Blackhawks and smaller aircraft are keeping the long distance Omega troops at bay – keeping us from being pummeled by bombs and rockets.

It takes an enormous amount of effort to force my body to remain still, to quit trembling. The Chinese hit a few more landmines. The screaming and confusion is palpable from my vantage point in the tall grass. They disperse off the interstate in squad formations and begin climbing through the hillside, many of them struck with horror. Some approach at a full sprint, foolishly believing that if they’re moving fast enough, they won’t set off any landmines.

Only a few are that stupid, though. Some of them still linger at the sides of the freeway, wary of leaving the path. They’re not all idiots. They know what’s waiting out here. I’m sure they’ve all been briefed by their commanding officers on the threat of guerilla war fighters in the central valley.

Yeah, we’re definitely as dangerous as they told you we’d be.

As soon as the thought floats through my brain, a group of fifty Chinese start climbing the side of my hill, scaling it nearly on hands and knees. It’s steep enough to make it difficult to walk, and at the same time, draw them closer to us.

“God,” Uriah whispers, “they’re actually falling for it.”

I don’t reply. The Chinese are pouring over the sides of the interstate, spreading over the hillside by the hundreds. They send sacrificial scouts fifty yards in front of the body of troops to make sure there are no landmines planted in the dirt.

There’s not, but they don’t know that.

This pattern is repeated for two hours. Two hours of waiting motionless on my stomach, barely daring to breathe. Our entire platoon is comprised of riflemen from our militia, many of them with a skillset far greater than mine.

“I think it’s time, mate,” Uriah says, glancing at Chris.

“I agree.”

He gives a wordless signal to our snipers in the grass, and I lick my chapped lips. Why didn’t I take another sip of water from my canteen? I had two hours to do it. Too late now.

Warfare doesn’t wait.

Chris takes the first shot, as always. And that shot is the signal to begin the attack. The Chinese have merged by the thousands into the canyon, all of them driven off the road, into the grassy slopes. Right into a box, unknowingly surrounded on all sides by the National Guard. Not to mention the Air Force, if we need them.

The first shot hardly fazes the Chinese. They look around, almost dazed, searching the hillside for the fool that could have accidentally fired a shot.

“Open fire,” I say, talking into the radio sewn into my shoulder.

We do. It’s the most brutal, ruthless attack I have ever been involved in. Chinese troops are literally razed to the ground in systematic sweeps. The ones who are deep enough into the crowds turn on their heels and run south. Some drop and return fire, aiming blindly at muzzle flashes. It won’t do them any good. They’re surrounded on all sides. As they pull away from the troops who are dead or dying, they expose themselves, too. And so they die.

I struggle to see through my scope at one point, brushing away moisture from the eyepiece. I blink a few times, tasting salt on my lips. Tears? I’m crying?

I can’t do that right now. I shake myself and keep fighting. Someone from our militia fires an RPG into the middle of a mass of Chinese soldiers pushing their way north. It lights up the dark hillside with an orange glow. The screaming is horrible. The smell of gunpowder is sharp.

So this is what winning looks like, I think. I don’t feel victorious.

Yet at the same time, the knowledge that these troops have invaded our homeland and killed every innocent man, woman and child in their path softens the pain of killing. I’m not a murderer. I’m a defender.

They forced my hand. They expected us to surrender silently.

They underestimated our will.

And now they are paying the price.

The attack goes on for hours. Until the twilight hours, when the hills and sky are one shade of muted gray and the sunrise throws color over the battlefield. It is at this point that there are barely any standing Chinese troops left to fight. The rest of the forces – which number at maybe two and a half thousand – never even come around the corner.

“Alpha One, I’ve got a situation.” Chris’s radio crackles with Max’s voice.

“Give me details,” Chris replies.

“They contacted us. They want to parlay.”

“Are they crazy?” I snap. “It’s too late for that.”

“What are their terms?” Chris asks.

“Just you and their messenger. He’s got something to say to us, apparently.”

“We should be talking directly to their commanding officer,” Uriah spits.

“We’ll parley,” Chris replies. “But they come to us, and they come up.”

“Roger that, sir.”

I lay down my rifle, exhausted, sweaty, and emotionally spent.

“What do you mean, up?” I ask.

“They’ve still got two thousand men out there, almost three thousand,” Chris answers, popping his canteen open. “If we can avoid getting any of our men killed, I’d like to do that.”

“We’ve had no serious casualties so far.”

“Don’t think the Chinese will be stupid enough to come into the canyon twice.” Chris offers me a drink. I take it gratefully. “Eliminating the rest of them will be more difficult.” He wipes a droplet of water from my chin, smiling softly at my shaking hands. “And a break in fighting will be good for everybody.”

“Where are we going to meet with their messenger or whatever?” I press.

“On top of that hill,” Chris says, gesturing to the hill behind us. “We’ll make them come up to us.”

“Dang it. Then we have to climb the hill,” I sigh.

“No. We’ll ride up.”

The sun peeks over the eastern horizon, glowing brilliantly even through the haze of smoke and debris in the air. I hang my head and close my eyes, praying that this parley will bring good news – not bad.

The puzzle of Omega has always been the question of who are they really? Chinese? Korean? Syrian? Russian? Who controls Omega? And who decided to unite all of these radical factions to gang up on us? Is it one man? A group of men? A woman? A body of government? A mysterious, legendary secret society come to destroy us all and take over the world?

I don’t know. And sometimes not knowing who the enemy is can be maddening. They’re standing right in front of us, and we don’t know who they are.

All part of the plan, Walter Lewis would say. Nothing they’ve done has been spontaneous. They’ve been planning this for a long time. The only question is who they are.

As we wait at the top of the hill, Colonel Rivera joins us. There is a static tension in the air between our militia and his presence. When I look at him, I see the man that refused to send us backup when we were in need. I can’t help but feel resentful.

Both Rivera and Chris stand next to each other as we wait for the Chinese messenger to arrive. We’ve brought a small detachment of armed militia with us, and unbeknownst to the Chinese, our forces are still holed up in the undergrowth around the mountains. If they try anything dirty, they’ll die.

The early morning light casts a defining glow over the landscape. The temperature is cold and biting, but I hardly notice. I’m focused on the vehicle moving up the hill. It’s a Humvee, but it’s painted with the Omega symbol – a white, stylized O on the side of the door. Max is with us, and so is Sophia. She’s standing next to me.

“What do you think they want?” she whispers.

“I have no idea,” I reply. “But Chris seems willing to negotiate for some reason.”

“He’s trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Rivera, on the other hand, doesn’t care.”

“He cares,” Sophia corrects. “His methods are just different.”

I keep my comments to myself. It’ll probably take a few years for the bitterness over Rivera’s abandonment of the militia to wear off. And then I’ll understand. But that day is definitely not today.

Chris turns his head slightly, sharing a glance with me.

Don’t worry, he seems to say. We’ve got this.

As far as I know, Jeff and Derek are with their platoons, still safely hidden. As the vehicle comes to the top of the hill, it slows to a halt, and the troops slowly come out. Chinese soldiers surround a man exiting the front passenger door. They protect him with their bodies, a human shield. They move him towards us, standing in a straight line in front of his body.

“Start talking,” Colonel Rivera states.

Chris says nothing. His silence speaks volumes.

The man shielded by the troops is obviously the messenger, and as he begins to talk, his soldiers pull apart enough for us to get a view of his appearance. Sophia slaps her hand across her mouth, unable to contain her shock. A stone drops to the bottom of my stomach.

Wavy brown hair. Tall, lean figure. Piercing blue eyes. All of this wrapped up in a recognizable blue Omega uniform that contrasts the Chinese’s black suits perfectly.

“Now Colonel,” he says, his voice smooth. Perfect. “Let’s not dispense with the pleasantries simply because we’re on a battleground. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harry Lydell, and I am the acting Commander for this detachment of troops.”

Chapter Sixteen

Of all the people I had expected to see in the midst of this Armageddon, Harry Lydell was not one of them. The Englishman who spied on Sophia and I during our imprisonment at an Omega labor camp. The guy who fed information to the enemy before the attack on Sanger, costing us the lives of too many good men.

And I definitely didn’t expect him to be a commander.

“Don’t look so shocked, Cassidy,” he says, looking directly at me. “You didn’t think I’d just disappear forever, did you?”

Well, actually…

“You know this man?” Rivera asks, turning to Chris.

“He was an Omega spy. He betrayed my men,” he replies simply.

“Betray is a rather harsh word, don’t you think?” Harry asks, still watching me. “Betrayal implies that one was loyal to a cause before turning their backs on it. I did no such thing. I’ve always known where my loyalty lies, and it was never with the militias.”

“That’s your mistake, then,” I say.

“So bitter.”

“You almost got me killed.”

“Sorry about that, love. But this is war, you know.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“—Enough,” Chris growls, and even Harry flinches at the tone of his voice. Chris, after all, is the man that almost snapped his neck on one occasion. And I saved Harry’s life. Epic fail. “You’re here to deliver a message. Deliver it.”

“Colonel Cho sends his condolences for the losses you will take if you do not stop your attempt to exterminate our forces,” Harry says, an irritating smirk on his lips. “I volunteered to represent him at this meeting. I recognized your fighting techniques, Young. You haven’t changed.”

“And you’re still a jerk,” I grit.

“Now, now,” Harry says, raising a finger. “This is supposed to be a peaceful meeting.”

“I should jam my boot down your throat.”

“By all means, go ahead. That would be an amusing attempt to watch.”

“Lydell, why didn’t your Colonel meet us here himself?” Chris interjects, holding his hand up, silencing both of us immediately.

“Because it wasn’t necessary.” Harry folds his arms across his chest. “You’ve made a noble attempt to stop us, I’ll give you that. But you cannot defeat us, and we will kill every man and woman in our path. The solution to your problems is simple: surrender.”

“Surrender is not an option,” Chris replies.

“Why not? Join us. Omega will provide you with food, weapons, ammunition. Be on the winning side.” Harry again moves his gaze to me, smiling wickedly. “When all of this is over, and the new Order is established, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of the border, trust me.”

“You’re asking us to turn our backs on our own country,” Max says. “You’re insane.”

“Colonel Cho is making a generous offer,” Harry answers. “We will unleash everything on your forces if you don’t surrender. I guarantee you, not a single man will be left standing.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Chris warns. “We’re not joining you.”

“Then I suggest you run.”

“We’re not running. You and your allies need to get the hell out of our home.”

“Your home?” Harry sighs. “As if it belongs to you. It’s ours for the taking, and we’re taking it. You can either step aside and bow to the superior power, join us in our fight, or be annihilated. Personally, I prefer option three, but that would be a waste of some talented guerrilla war fighters.”

“Consider them wasted,” Colonel Rivera shoots back, startling me with the venom in his voice. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re going to wipe the floor with your face, kid.”

I press my lips together, fighting the irrational laughter bubbling up in my chest. Harry looks very ticked.

“So is that a refusal, then?” he asks.

“That’s a no,” Chris corrects. “Get off my hilltop. And by the way, the next time you and I meet, I’m going to kill you.”

Ouch.

“Cassidy?” Harry says, swallowing.

“I’m not a traitor,” I reply.

He glares at me.

“You will be responsible for the death of hundreds,” Harry presses.

“Leave,” Chris commands.

“Your mistake. This offer will not come again.” Harry turns back towards the vehicle, the soldiers retreating from the parley. “Just remember that you had a chance to live. It will be the last thought you have before you die.”

He slams the door shut. We stand there in silence as the vehicle rolls back down the hill. I release a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

“That was entertaining,” Rivera states. “Let’s get back to work. They’ll be on us as soon as he gets back to his commanding officer.”

“At least we know the name of their Colonel,” I shrug.

“I cannot believe Harry is here,” Sophia gasps. “After all this time.”

“It’s a small world,” I say. “And it’s getting smaller every day.”

“That meeting was meant to intimidate us,” Chris says. “They wouldn’t have stopped to parley if they had as much power as Harry is bragging about. We would all be dead already.”

“He’s bluffing?” I say.

“They’re hesitating,” Chris replies. “And that’s perfect.” He turns to Max. “I want you to join Jeff’s platoon. Sophia, you go with him. Cassidy, you stay with me.” He and Rivera look at each other for a second. Chris simply nods and the two of us head to our vehicle.

I slide inside, wrapping my fingers around Chris’s forearm.

“Chris, did you catch what he said about the ‘new Order?” I ask.

“I caught it.”

“What’s the Order?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s what Omega’s calling the new government system they’re going to set up. Does it matter?”

“Yeah. I’d like to know what their evil master plan is.”

Chris strokes my hair.

“We know what it is. Annihilation and domination.” He shrugs. “We just have to stop them.”

“It’s going to be a long day.”

“It already has been.”

You know that feeling you get when you stand on the edge of a cliff? Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t. For me, standing on the edge of a cliff is just as exciting as it is terrifying. If I fall off the cliff, I’ll die. And that’s terrifying. But I’m also looking out over the world. I’m on top of the world. And that is exciting. There’s no way to describe it unless you’ve experienced it.

It’s exactly how I feel right now.

Exhausted as I am, hiding in the mountains again, awaiting Omega’s second push, I’m terrified. Because we might die. But excited, because we might survive, and we might succeed in keeping Omega out of the valley.

Hours have passed since our meeting with Harry. The shock has worn off. It’s been replaced with near boredom as we wait for Omega to do something. Anything. It’s like waiting for lightning to strike the ground. When will they hit us next?

Night comes. There is no moon tonight, just clouds. It makes the hills darker and more difficult to navigate. I sit with my legs in front of me, eating MRE rations, meat and vegetables chemically heated in a bag. It tastes like mashed baby food. But I’m not complaining. This food is better than no food, even if I do have to eat it in the dark and feel for the contents like a blind person.

It’s been a long, restless day. I managed to get an hour or so of sleep, but my body was too wired for anything more than that. Harry’s words have replayed in my head over and over again:

“You will be responsible for the death of hundreds.”

I remind myself that he’s a professional liar, taking another bite of food. Forcing it down. Harry is just trying to get to us, specifically me. He spent enough time with me in the labor camp to know that I have difficulty engaging in warfare. Yes, it’s something I have to do. Yes, I realize that if I don’t fight, we’ll all die anyway, so I might as well go down swinging. But no, that doesn’t mean I’m an emotionless monster who wants unnecessary bloodshed.

Harry’s wrong. You’re not all going to die. He’s bluffing and you know it.

I finish off the rest of my food, toss it aside and take a long drink of water. I hear a distant whining, like the escalating ringing in my ears before my hearing popped back. I tilt my head up, a fat raindrop hitting my nose.

Oh, lovely. On top of everything else, it has to rain, too?

A smattering of cold droplets peppers my face, and the whining grows louder. In that moment realization smacks me upside the head.

“Did somebody order air support in here?” I ask, turning to Chris. “Chris?”

He’s kneeling on the ground, listening intently.

“Those aren’t our jets,” he says simply.

I jump to my feet, shouting this order as loud as I can.

“Take cover, take cover! They’re sending jets!!!”

Fear, raw and real, grabs me by the neck. I can’t breathe. Are we about to get bombed? Our air support has kept the skies clear for us so far. But what if a bogey or two got through? Just one could do some serious damage to our front lines.

Chris grabs my arm and drags me down the hillside, heading for lower ground. We’re too far into the interstate to take cover under the freeway. The road is at ground level, plus we’ve planted landmines all along the road. We duck into the low bushes, staying hidden under rocks and trees. The screaming of the incoming jets strike terror into my heart. I clutch Chris’s arm as he pulls me close. The rain is starting to fall harder, sticking my uniform to my skin. Uriah scrambles down next to us, while other members of our militia scatter throughout the hillside. The jets streak by overhead, sweeping through like dark birds.

Something drops from the first bird. It detonates upon impact, turning the grass into a smoldering mass of dirt and grass. Flames spring up despite the rain, giving everything a hellish aura. More weapons hit the earth. Every impact is like an earthquake. I can feel the expulsion of air on my lungs, each shockwave hitting me like a brick in the chest.

Chris holds me against him and I hang on for dear life, praying to God that one of those things won’t hit us. The barrage seems to go on for an eternity, never ceasing long enough for me to recover from each shockwave. The hills are alive with flames now, and the rain isn’t falling hard enough to put out the fire. At last the enemy jets stop their attack, and Chris’s grip on me eases a bit.

“Are they gone?” I ask.

“They’ll be back,” Uriah replies, his dark eyes glimmering with hatred. “But we’ve got our own birds, too. I’d suggest you radio Rivera and call in the Air Force.”

Chris nods.

I remain still, listening to the crackle of fire against the dry grass.

Please rain harder, I think. Put out this fire before…

Wait.

I pull back from Chris.

“Which way is the wind blowing?” I ask.

“Um…I don’t know. South?” Uriah says.

“We need to drive this fire towards the Chinese. Nothing can stop a wildfire.”

Chris fixes me with a surprised look, a smile spreading across his face.

“Cassie, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

“It’s the only idea I’ve had all day.”

He hits the radio and contacts Rivera.

“Rivera, this is Alpha One,” he says. “What’s your status?”

“We’re alive,” Rivera replies. “What’s your status?”

“My platoon is uninjured. Radio air support. Tell them to be ready to combat military aircraft.”

“Will do,” Rivera says, but he sounds shaken.

I grab my radio and contact Max’s platoon.

“This is Yankee, over,” I say.

Nothing but static. Chris tries on his radio. Uriah tries his, too. Nothing.

“Oh, my god,” I breathe. “Do you think they’re hurt?”

Chris sets his jaw.

“Possibly.”

Uriah shakes his head.

“No. No way am I leaving this position to check on another platoon,” he says. “If those jets come back while we’re on the move, we’ll be out in the open.”

“I’m not leaving them to die,” Chris snaps. “And I’m not asking you to come.”

“You’re not going without me,” I tell him.

He nods. No argument.

That’s new.

Uriah rolls his eyes.

“You care too much.” He holds out his hands. “But I get your point.”

What Uriah might not understand is that despite the fact that it’s dangerous to check up on Max’s platoon, it’s worth it. Max, Derek, Sophia and Jeff are the best soldiers we have. If we lose them, we’ll lose a lot of the militia’s morale. We can’t afford it. Plus, Chris has already lost Alexander this week. He doesn’t want to lose anybody else. Neither do I.

Chris turns to a young man staked out behind us. I don’t remember his name. Andrew, I think. I don’t know.

“You’re in charge until I get back,” Chris says.

The kid stares at Chris with an expression of shock, then nods.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

Chris doesn’t hesitate in moving forward. I dart behind his shoulder, Uriah on my tail. We move through the grass, feet sinking into mud. My brilliant plan of driving a fire towards Omega won’t do much good if the rainfall continues to get heavier. Max and his platoon are four hundred yards from our position, and the rain and darkness make it even more difficult to navigate the rough terrain. All the while, Uriah anxiously listens for any signs of enemy aircraft.

As we approach their position, I stop dead in my tracks. Where Max and his platoon were hiding is nothing but a smoking, flaming crater. Horrified, I run forward and claw my way up the hill. “Sophia!” I scream. “Max! Derek! Jeff!”

Dead militiamen are lying in the mud, burnt and mutilated beyond recognition. I fall on my knees and cover my mouth, fighting the gag reflex.

“Cassidy!”

I look up. Sophia is running towards me. I pull myself up and throw my arms around her neck. She’s crying hysterically. “I barely missed it,” she chokes. “They dropped a freaking bomb on our heads.”

“Where are the others?”

“Here!” Jeff crawls out of the tall grass. Chris heaves a sigh of relief and pulls his brother into a fierce hug. Max is there, as well, but I don’t see Derek.

“Where’s the rest of the platoon?” I ask. “Where’s Derek?”

“I don’t know where everybody is. We scattered.”

I bite my lip.

“We need to get out of here. The cover’s been fried.”

“Exactly.” Chris kneels down. He grabs his radio and calls the other nearby platoons. “We’re going to light these mountains up. We’re burning them down.”

“But… why?” Sophia asks, trembling.

“We’re going to push Omega back. They can’t fight against a wall of flames.”

“They’ll try.”

“They’ll just come in with their jets,” Uriah says.

“It’s a lot harder to see the enemy when the ground is covered in smoke,” Chris replies.

Our militia platoons roll in with a couple of vehicles. Soldiers dump barrels of diesel fuel on the grass. And from there, all it takes is a spark. Soon the entire field before us on fire, the flames reaching skyward, the wind whipping it hotter, towards Omega.

“Keep lighting up the hillside,” Chris orders. “Follow the interstate and make sure you drive it back. The wind is blowing south, right in their direction. Keep it going.”

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.