State of Chaos

“Run!” he yells.

A simple command, but universal. We jump up and book it just as the first bomb detonates. I’m ru

I scramble to my feet, only to fall back down again, dizzy and disoriented. My ears are ringing. Chris grabs my arm and helps me find my balance. I look back over my shoulder and gasp. Three or four of the militiamen in our group are lying motionless on the ground about thirty feet behind us. The Omega truck that exploded is nothing more than a hulking mass of smoking, twisted metal. I’m vaguely aware of rapid gunfire in the background, but my ringing ears make it difficult to gauge the distance of the weapons.

Chris drags me into the tall grass and suddenly the entire area is alive with lights and movement. Another Omega vehicle detonates on the edge of the property, sending shockwaves through the field. Luckily, none of our men are close enough to it to be killed, but Max’s group is probably more than a little bit singed.

Omega troops swarm out of the wooded areas bordering the fields, either drawing our men out in the open or pushing them back into the hills. Both are bad. I don’t even have time to take aim and shoot. All I can do is run.

Because we’ve walked right into a trap.

I spot Derek’s group going head to head with an Omega patrol. Men and women are knocked to the ground. Shot, knifed, kicked, smashed, punched. The end product is always death. The adrenaline rush I’ve been expecting finally hits me, but it’s tainted with horror. All around me our soldiers are being slaughtered. Omega troopers are boxing us in from all sides. They were waiting for us. Watching us as we approached the building.

How could they have known we were coming tonight?

There’s a spy in your camp, my gut tells me.

I crawl through the grass, following Chris’s lead. We need to reach cover, otherwise we’re going to die. Period. We finally get to Derek’s group, but the only cover we have here is the tall grass.

These open fields are lethal.

I take out my gun, but I don’t even have time to use it. An Omega trooper fires at me from twenty feet away, but I see him moving. I duck out of the way and hit the ground, bringing the gun into my shoulder. Powered with superhuman levels of adrenaline and desperation, I sight him, squeeze the trigger, and take him out. Just like that.

I stay right there on the ground, hidden in the shadows, taking out as many troopers as I can until it’s impossible for me to stay in the same place anymore. One of our militiamen accidentally steps on my back, leaving a muddy footprint on the rear panel of my jacket. Yeah. Time to move and stick to maneuvers I know inside and out: Shoot, move and communicate.

Chris is fighting next to Max. Both of them are using every weapon at their disposal, everything from guns to their fists. But Omega keeps coming. They continue to swarm out of the hills like grasshoppers. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen — and I’ve seen some pretty scary stuff since the EMP went down. Sophia literally crashes into me, ru

Sophia grabs my arm.

“I can’t find Alexander,” she says, covered in sweat. “I think he’s hurt.”

I meet her gaze.

“Are you serious?”

“Retreat!” Max yells. “Fall back! Rally point One!”

That’s just another way of saying, “We’re screwed. Run for your lives.”

But there’s nowhere to retreat. Omega’s got us surrounded. We’re closed in on all sides. The militiamen that have been pushed back to the supply depot are being caught in the land mines and IEDs set up by the Omega troopers. A few militiamen find themselves cornered against the warehouse. One sweep of an automatic weapon is all it takes to kill all of them in less than three seconds.

Just when I think things can’t get any worse, I’m blinded with white light. Sophia and I shield our faces, confused. What the heck is this? A UFO invasion? Are aliens finally taking over the planet?

I wouldn’t be surprised. Please, take it. There’s not much left.

My eyes adjust and I focus in on the source of the light. Floodlights. Omega is firing up their backup generators and powering floodlights on top of the depot, shooting the beams of light into the fields. Making it easier for them to pick us off. My heart sticks in my throat.

We really are dead.

But wait. I spot a familiar figure standing on the edge of the depot. A flash of dark hair. A tall, muscular frame. He’s kneeling on the ground. Alexander Ramos. He’s watching the proceedings as blood runs down the side of his neck. He’s wounded. Badly. I find myself moving towards him, stopping only to look back and make sure Chris and Sophia are still alive. They are, and they’re putting up a valiant fight, but a wall of Omega troopers are pushing our militia farther and farther back. There won’t be any escape once they reach that point.

I stop and stare at Alexander. He looks at me. We don’t say anything. A brief thought flashes through my head: He’s a good soldier. He’s just a little rough around the edges. He looks at me like I’m the most a

“Let me help you,” I stutter, shocked at his appearance.

“Just keep moving,” he commands, wincing. And then, “Please.”

I don’t hesitate.

As I’m working my way across the field, I see someone else. Harry Lydell. He’s standing motionless next to an Omega vehicle on the other side of the property, a safe distance away from the battlefield. He’s unarmed, watching everything with catlike curiosity, and something about that really bothers me. I stalk towards him, my weapon raised.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“You really are stupid,” he says, pronouncing every word like it’s part of a British play. He’s staring down the barrel of my rifle. “You walked right into this.”

“You?” I gape at him. “You betrayed us?”

“Cassidy, I was never with you in the first place.” His eyes shift to the right and then snap back to me. “I’ve been with Omega the whole time. Since day one.”

“But the militia gave you your freedom,” I say, shocked. “They saved you from Omega.”

“No. Omega gave me my freedom. I’ve been spying on you since that first day I started working with you in the fields.” A twisted smile crawls across his face. “When I was liberated by the militia, it made things difficult. It took a long time to get back in contact with my commander.”

“You’re really disgusting, you know that?” I spit.

“Oh, I know. Don’t flatter me, Cassidy.”

“You do realize I’m pointing a gun at your head, right?”

“You won’t kill me.” He chuckles. “You have trouble killing people you have a relationship with.”

“My relationship with you is non-existent. You know what? Maybe I’ll save everybody the trouble—”

I never get to finish my sentence, which is sad, because I was just getting to the best part. Something knocks me sideways and I hit the ground with an unattractive thud. A fiery pain explodes just below my ribcage. I look down and press my hand against my side. I lift my hand up, horrified to see my palm dripping in blood.