State of Rebellion

“My pleasure.” He drapes one strap of the pack over my shoulder. “You’re really in the military now, Cassie. It suits you.”

“I don’t know.” I gaze up at his sure, handsome face. “Does it?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s not a lot of people that would adjust to this sort of lifestyle so well. You’ve got a gift.”

“I’ve got a great leader,” I reply, standing on my tiptoes. “You.”

He laughs softly, placing one hand on each side of my waist.

“Is that so?” he asks.

“Yes.” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Chris. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“It was hard leaving Dad behind.” I blink back tears. “After all I went through to find him again.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Chris says, pulling me close. “There’s nothing else you could do. I’m proud of you. You’re growing up fast.”

I smile against the fabric of his jacket.

“Growing up sucks.”

“Nah.” Chris pulls back to study my face, tracing the curve of my cheek with his thumb. “It’s not all bad.”

He kisses me then. It’s the first time I’ve really kissed him since we’ve been here. Since the ambush in Sanger. Since I got shot. Come to think of it, we haven’t had any real privacy since I escaped from the labor camp months ago.

I thread my fingers through his hair, melting into his strong embrace. He’s all around me, flooding my senses. Calming my fears. Being the steady rock I need him to be. “See?” he says, pressing his lips against my jaw. “It’s really not all bad.”

I raise an eyebrow, flushed.

“You have a point. Please continue.”

He laughs, and I feel it rumble deep in his chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

He’s right.

Growing up isn’t all that bad.

National Guard recruits are everywhere. There are a little over a thousand troops crammed into this hole in the ground, and every single one of them is here because they volunteered. And it’s not just men. There are plenty of women, too. Colonel Rivera has command over his men, and Chris maintains control of the militia groups. The two work together.

Because of this, Chris is considered an equal leader of the entire Central Valley California National Guard. I guess that makes him famous. Why shouldn’t it? Everyone is finally seeing him for the amazing leader he is.

For the record, I knew how great he was before everybody else did.

Just saying.

At any rate, the monotony of military base life is finally broken when Chris gives us the green light to go out on our first urban ambush. It’s going to be a lot different than what we did up in the mountains.

Our target?

An Omega emergency relief camp. I remember them well. They were relief camps set up for survivors of the EMP, but in actuality they were traps. Ways to concentrate the populace and carry out executions. Little more than modern day concentration camps.

This should be interesting.

How long has it been since I waited at a drive-through window for an order of French fries? Way too long. And right now, staring past the broken glass from inside a drive through window at Carl’s Jr., I’m getting an eerie sense of dejavu. The night is silent. Unlike the mountains, where the steady background of nature kept my nerves calm, there is nothing to hear in this urban environment except distant screams and gunshots. The earth hasn’t quite reclaimed what belongs to it. Concrete and steel structures still reign supreme.

I notice the sign at the corner of the window.

Thanks — come again soon!

I roll my eyes.

Sophia and Alexander are with me. I edge towards the door of the abandoned fast food restaurant, crouching in the shadows. The moon is shrouded with dark clouds, making it easier for us to hide, but harder for us to see the enemy. And they’re not far away. The enemy camp is located in the parking lot of a former Best Buy distribution center.

Cruel irony. The world ends and millions of dollars of technology just sits inside a giant warehouse, nothing but a pile of worthless pieces of wiring and blank screens. How sick is that?

The camp is surrounded by a chain link fence. There’s razor wire, heavy patrols, Omega vehicles and a large gathering of people inside the fence. It looks exactly like the last relief camp I saw a year ago in Bakersfield. Only this one is a lot smaller, and the civilians are emaciated. They hardly look human anymore.

“This isn’t going to be too bad,” I whisper. “I don’t even see any dead bodies.”

“Oh, boy. This is a good night,” Sophia snorts.

“Hey, you and I both know how bad these places get.”

She glances at Alexander. His expression is stony.

“We wait for the signal,” he says.

This is the first time I haven’t been with Chris for the duration of a mission. I’m always in his platoon, but I have separated myself from routine tonight. Why? Because I’m an officer now. I have new responsibilities. I have to lead. I can’t merely follow anymore. Or maybe I just want to be sure that I can function without him. That my talent and skills aren’t dependent on his presence.

But you know they are, a little voice says.

I shake off the confidence issue and step away from the corner of the building. “Let’s climb,” I say. And that’s when I realize that Alexander and Sophia are actually doing what I tell them. This is odd for two reasons. First, because Alexander is an officer, too. That technically makes us both Lieutenants. And second, because Alexander always assumes command of a situation. We’re both equally ranked. Sophia and Derek are sergeants, each in charge of units of eight men within their platoon.

Tonight Alexander’s being nice. Maybe it has something to do with Sophia. The two of them have been spending a lot of time together since we moved into the National Guard base in Fresno. Could she be — dare I say it? — softening him up?

I smile at the thought.

Alexander is not the “softening up” type of guy.

I head over to a corner of the building, where two walls intersect near the rear exit. I use the windowsill and Alexander’s armored shoulder to boost myself up to the roof access hatch, pulling myself up. I crawl on the roof, keeping a low profile to avoid silhouetting against the skyline. I’m wearing a black and gray uniform. My face is streaked with camouflage grease. I lie prone near a rise in the roof and remove my rifle. It’s as sleek and shiny as a new car. I adjust my position as Sophia and Alexander move in beside me, scoping our sectors of fire.

We are snipers tonight.

The rest of my platoon is broken into four sections. Each section is led by a sergeant like Sophia. Alexander and I — we are lieutenants — oversee the platoon itself. They are the main assault force on the camp. Our job as snipers is to cover our men when all hell breaks loose and the National Guard raids the camp. Which, according to my calculations, should be any minute now. “I love these new weapons,” Sophia whispers. “But they’re not shiny. They’re dirty.”

I stifle a laugh.

“They’re not supposed to be shiny,” I explain. “They have a matte finish so they won’t reflect light and give our position away.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to have real equipment to work with.”

“Tell me about it.” I check my optics one more time, tweaking the settings slightly. Waiting for the right moment. “They should be in position by now.”

Our forces are slowly surrounding the camp, and Chris has positioned snipers along the roof of the distribution center. We’ve got about a hundred troops with us tonight for this assaulting force– and that’s all we need. Surprise Omega, break the gates down, drive them back and let the prisoners out. We’re not necessarily here to provide food and shelter for the prisoners who escape. We’re just here to free them. The National Guard has supplies and first aid in place to administer help to the refugees, then we’ll be on our way.