State of Chaos

This will also be our primary rally point if something goes wrong.

“Let’s go,” Chris says.

I nod.

He catches my chin between his fingers, pressing a kiss against my lips.

“I…” He shakes his head. “Just be careful and stay close to me.”

“Will do.”

My heart twists a little in my chest.

We get out of the truck. We’re about a half a mile away from the supply center. Nobody speaks. Nobody breathes. We fall into our platoons like we pla

I stay close to Chris’s shoulder as our platoon separates into the woods. The foothills are bright and beautiful in the moonlight, making it simple to navigate the path — but easier for Omega to see us coming if we’re not careful. In the distance, I spot the supply center. It’s an old warehouse surrounded by a parking lot. Omega trucks are parked there, and a big barbed wire fence has been erected around the perimeter. In the back, a cinderblock fence is lined with wiring around the top.

Looks familiar.

Troopers are guarding a few smaller buildings next to the main warehouse. That’s where they’re keeping the POWs. Chris crouches down and we all follow suit, lying prone, watching the buildings through the tall grass. Chris has his binoculars trained on the front entrance. The other three platoons are closing in on the warehouse, and pretty soon we’ll have it surrounded on all four sides.

“I really hope they don’t have satellite,” I whisper.

“Nobody has satellite surveillance anymore,” somebody says behind me.

“I’ll bet Omega does.”

I mean, why not? They’ve got working cars, don’t they? They’ve got generators. They might as well have their own satellite. Unfortunately, the thought that we could be watched from the sky is enough to make my nervousness skyrocket.

Relax. Breathe. Just stay calm.

I’m an idiot. I can never get my body to cooperate with me when I want it to. And right now, all I want it to do is relax. My hands are shaking and my shoulders are trembling. The cold temperature is just making it worse, too.

Chris takes my hand.

“Hey,” he whispers. “We got this.”

I force a smile.

And just a second ago I was the one calming his nerves.

In total silence, we move closer to the building. As we get closer, I can see that it used to be some sort of big repair shop, but Omega has, once again, commandeered something good and turned it into something bad. It makes me sick — and it reminds me why I’m here.

Just stay focused, I think. Don’t do anything stupid.

When we’re as close as we can get, we drop to into the prone position again. Our weapons are at the ready. I lay mine across a log to take the weight off my arm. It will help make my aim steadier. Our goal is to wait for Alexander’s team and Derek’s team to maneuver into place while Max and his men set up the fireworks.

A few minutes of tense silence pass before Chris finally says, “Now.” We can’t see the other platoons. We can only go by time — and hope that everybody does their job according to the plan. There are at least ten troopers standing guard on this side of the supply building. Two inside the fence, two outside the fence at the entrance, three around the warehouse itself and two more patrolling the front of the storage buildings being used to house prisoners. We’re close enough to see the white O stitched into their uniform sleeve. Close enough to hear their conversations.

Close enough to take them out.

Chris gives the signal for us to open fire by taking the first shot. It’s perfect. A trooper drops dead at the front entrance. As he does, our group starts firing from the cover of the grass and the trees, and more troopers fall. When Omega finally starts regrouping and hitting us with return fire, we drop into the grass. The other two platoons open fire, shooting at Omega from the opposite side. Omega scrambles to get it together, but it’s not happening. This goes on for a while. We trade off coordinated volleys until Omega’s numbers are significantly reduced. Shoot, drop, let the other side pummel Omega while we reload. Rise up again, shoot, drop. Rinse and repeat. Omega troopers keep falling. Our numbers remain the same.

One or two desperate troopers duck for cover and yell for backup, but as they do, the main gate explodes. Just like it did at Kamaneva’s camp — only now I recognize the militiamen’s handiwork.

I duck my head as the explosion sends a wave of heat over our hiding place. I keep my weapon aimed at the entrance, sweeping back and forth, looking for an Omega trooper that might appear in my sights.

The explosion at the front entrance lights up the property and gives us access to the grounds. Omega troopers are scrambling, trying to figure out what the heck is going on. It’s like the rescue at the labor camp all over again — only this time, I’m on the other side of the fence.

Chris gives the signal. He takes half of our group and bounds towards the building, leaving me and a few other militiamen behind to cover them. I watch them storm the camp along with Alexander, Derek and Max, systematically taking out Omega’s lines of defense. If anything, they make it look too easy.

But I know better.

Chris is just that good.

Omega troopers are ru

But this is the new me. I actually do what I’m told…most of the time.

As I’m watching the scene unfold, I notice an Omega trooper coming around the corner of the big warehouse. He’s armed and, because of the thick smoke, hard to see. He shoots one of our men. I suck in my breath, dropping my head, looking down my sights. I don’t even think about what I do next. I just aim, squeeze, and shoot. He’s at least two hundred yards away, but it’s a good shot. He drops instantly as my bullet hits him right in the chest.

I release a breath and close my eyes.

Somebody — I don’t know who — claps me on the back and says something congratulatory. A sick feeling pools in my stomach and I fight the urge to gag. I intentionally killed someone. Granted, I did it to keep him from killing someone else, but still. The realization hits hard.

There’s no time to feel guilty. Everything’s moving fast. Alexander reaches the entrance and gives the all-clear signal, and the rest of us jump to our feet and storm the camp with the remainder of our forces. Omega is overrun, dropping their weapons, throwing their hands in the air. I enter the property with my weapon raised, the stench of burning metal and gunpowder singeing my lungs.

“Cassie, stay behind cover!” Chris yells, appearing from the smoke. He grabs my arm and pulls me behind the corner of the warehouse. “Stay out of the open.” He pauses, looking at the Omega trooper on the ground. “Nice shot.”

His gaze falls to the other side of the camp, and his features harden. Alexander is rushing the last of Omega’s defense with all of his troops. I watch three militiamen get shot and killed in the process. We can’t afford those kinds of losses.

“Stay here,” he orders.

Something about his tone screams danger. I stay behind the corner of the warehouse and watch as he makes his way across the parking lot, weaving through the battle zone like a boss. Derek cuts through the property, guns blazing, a feverish glint in his eyes. I’m guessing he’s enjoying this. Max takes off after Chris. I watch them, wondering what the problem is.

“Sophia!” I yell, waving her down.

Her head pops up and she runs over, clad in the same black clothing I am. She’s sweating. Besides the trail of blood ru