State of Pursuit

At any rate, my stomach is a writhing mess. I’m pacing at the front door, waiting for the militia to gather their gear. We’ve been here for twenty-four hours. Omega hasn’t found us, and it’s time for us to begin our journey back to Arlene’s Way House in the Tehachapi Mountains.

I haven’t spoken to Chris since I told him that his brother was dead.

I have barely been able to deal with the pain of that loss myself. Focusing on rescuing Chris was the only thing that kept me together. Now that I’ve achieved my goal, the loss hurts like a fresh wound.

“Are you okay, Cassidy?” Uriah asks.

He’s sitting on the steps, cleaning his rifle.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Just tired. You?”

“Same.” I can tell that he doesn’t buy it. “What did Vera say to you?”

“Nothing.”

I say it a little too quickly. Uriah stands up and slings his rifle over his shoulder. He walks closer, smiling faintly. “Cassidy,” he says. “Whatever it is, remember that you’ve got people here who really care about you. You’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” I reply.

Footsteps on the stairwell snap me out of it. I take a reflexive step backward and meet Chris’s gaze. He’s wearing black combat pants and a black shirt. He’s leaner than he was a few weeks ago — a side effect of suffering torturous interrogation and malnutrition. He’s shaved the excess scruff from his face and pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail. He has eaten a couple of times since he’s been here, but he’ll need more food if he’s going to get his full strength back.

“True,” Chris says, giving Uriah a stony expression.

“Commander,” Uriah replies, saluting. “Good to see that you made it, sir.”

Chris looks between us and I realize that I have unconsciously taken another step backward. Despite our earlier conversation about being friends, Uriah seems incredibly uncomfortable under Chris’s glare. Uriah excuses himself, mumbling something about checking on the militiamen in the living room.

Chris raises an eyebrow. I shrug.

He kisses me quickly on the forehead, brushing his hand on my hip. The two of us head to the living room. The militiamen are geared up and ready to go. Ma

“Ma

“Like a million dollars,” he replies, gri

“I believe it,” Chris says.

“Chris Young.” Ma

“Thank you.” He claps Ma

“It was impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“Commander,” Derek exclaims. “Good to see you back, sir.”

The two men embrace briefly. Of everyone here, Derek has been with Chris’s militia the longest. Even before I joined. Except for…

Alexander Ramos.

He’s standing near the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest. A hush falls over the room when Chris approaches. Two men — both of them thought dead. Both of them survived. And both of them, begrudging allies and now friends.

“Ramos,” Chris says.

And that’s it. They shake hands, embrace for a moment and nod respectfully. It’s a solemn moment of recognition. They both care about each other, even if they won’t say it out loud.

“Welcome back, Commander,” Vera says.

She’s seated on the couch armrest near Ma

“I want to thank you for what you’ve done,” Chris says. “A rescue unit in the heart of an Omega stronghold? Suicide. But here you stand, successful. It is my honor to be your Commander. I couldn’t ask for better soldiers.” He looks directly at me. “Some of you have performed above and beyond expectations. Thank you. This war has not torn us apart. It’s brought us closer together. We know what we want now: we want our lives back. And it’s given us drive and motivation. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t believe in the promise of freedom as much as I do. I want you to know that everything you do is worthwhile. Every drop of blood that has been spilled is not in vain. There is a purpose. There is an end goal.” He stops to clench his fists, and I know that he is thinking of his brother. “And God willing, we will be victorious.”

“Amen to that,” Ma

“Yes,” Chris and I reply at the same time.

Force of habit.

Chris’s lips twitch.

“Yes,” he says again. “What we said.”

I leave the room and climb the stairwell, heading to the bedroom. I gather my gear as quickly as possible, checking my weapons and ammunition. A million emotions are swirling inside of my head:

Relief:

We survived the rescue mission into Los Angeles.

Confusion:

What is Chris not telling me about his past life?

Fear:

What will I have to deal with when we return to Fresno?

I sense Chris’s presence before he even steps into the room. I look up quickly, hands trembling as I zip my backpack shut. “Are you feeling good enough to head back?” I ask. “You were pretty beat up when we got here.”

“I’m a fighter,” Chris replies, gently grasping my waist from behind. “And so are you, Cassie. Everything’s going be fine. You know that. Hang onto that hope.”

I want to say, Vera told me something that’s driving me crazy!

But I don’t. Not yet.

Chris places his hands over mine, closing his fingers over my trembling fists. He kisses the side of my neck, locking me into an inescapable embrace. His breath tickles my ear. “What’s bothering you?” he whispers. “Something’s not right.”

“I’m just tired,” I say. “It’s been a long two weeks.”

“It has.”

I study his hands. For the first time, I notice the angry red lines crisscrossing his wrists. The scars of torture. I close my eyes, silently thanking God that we found Chris before he was executed.

“Was he horrible?” I ask.

“Who?”

“Harry. Did he do this to you?” I touch his hands.

“Harry didn’t lift a finger,” Chris replies. “He has people for this.”

“I’m so sorry, Chris.”

“Don’t be. It’s the price of being in charge.”

“Nobody deserves torture.”

He doesn’t answer. He just kisses me again.

“If I could go back,” I say, “I wouldn’t have gone into that stupid drainpipe. I would have made Jeff go ahead of me and I would have come back for you.”

“You can’t change the past, Cassie,” Chris answers, his voice gentle. “Don’t live in that place. It will destroy you. Believe me, I know.” He turns me around and tilts my chin up, meeting my eyes. “We could go over every scenario a thousand times and think of ways that we could have changed things, but it still wouldn’t change anything. So don’t look behind you. Keep moving forward.”

Looking at Chris, I realize that this is the reason I fell in love with him.

Not because of his good looks. Not because of his fighting capabilities. Not because of his leadership skills. But because he is a good man. A man of integrity and honor and respect.