State of Alliance

“We send the scouts into the city,” Chris says, seconding my suggestion. “We find out what’s going on, and we keep the rest of our forces hidden in the woods. If Cassidy’s theory is right…” He shakes his head. “We’ll find out. Uriah, Vera. Take a team. Do a recon. See what you can see.”

“I’m going with them,” I say.

“You’re going nowhere,” Chris replies. “You’re wounded.”

“Give me some epinephrine and I’ll be fine.”

Chris gives me a look.

Geez. I was only joking.

Well… kind of.

I get a flashback of Desmond, the crazy field medic from the Mountain Rangers, his dreadlocks fluttering in the breeze as he went from wounded to wounded on the battlefield, saving every man he could.

He would have had me fixed up by now.

“Sophia,” Chris replies. “Help Cassidy with her wound, then hit the city. Fast.”

Sophia doesn’t meet Chris’s gaze, but she does as she’s told. She has often been our go-to medic when there is no one else available.

I walk over to her, sitting on the edge of a rotting stump. The sound of distant warfare is unsettling. Sophia kneels beside me, checking my hip. It is only a flesh wound, but it still smarts. The skin has been cut and burned. The bullet passed through the flesh, leaving me with nothing but pain — and what I’m sure will be a highly attractive scar later on.

“How are you doing?” I ask Sophia.

She glances at my face, shrugging. She cleans the wound with water and antiseptic wipes from her medial kit. “This needs some stitching,” she says. “Hang on.”

I sigh. She takes the needle and inserts it into my flesh. It pinches and burns, but I force myself to remain still. If I can endure a gunshot, I can endure the stitching up that comes afterward.

“Sophia,” I say.

She keeps stitching.

“Lieutenant,” I press. “Look at me, soldier.”

Sophia snaps her head up, locking gazes with me. Her eyes are red, teary. I touch her shoulder. She freezes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a moving vehicle.

“What is it, Sophia?” I ask. “Why all this bitterness?”

She finishes the stitches and ties it off, leaving me with a cleaned, bandaged hip. “What’s going on,” she whispers, “is that we’re at war.”

She stands up.

She swipes her black hair out of her eyes, now long enough to pull into a ponytail.

“You know,” I say, “you can only act like this for so long before you have to take responsibility for your attitude. And let me tell you, Sophia, I’m getting sick of this. We’ve all been through crap, and none of us do this to the team. It’s time for you to suck it up and get over it.”

Sophia’s expression is pure poison.

“You have no right to tell me how to feel or how to act,” she hisses. “I don’t care if you’re the chosen one or the freaking messiah of the entire revolutionary movement. You can’t help me. Ever.” She stands up. “You’ve made your choice. I’ve made mine.”

She shuts her medical kit and walks away. She converses briefly with Vera. They both look at me, then look away.

Sure. That’s right. Talk about me behind my back.

See how well that will turn out for you.

I stand and test my weight on my hip. Not bad. It’s sore, but it will heal — and hey. It could have been a fatal wound, but I got lucky. I’m still in the game. I approach Chris and place my hand on his.

“I want to take a team into the city,” I say. “Let me go instead of Sophia and Vera.”

Chris considers this. He knows that he ca

“You can go,” he says. “But with Sophia and Vera.” He looks at the woman who was once my best friend. “Both of you, same unit. Cassidy’s the Commander.”

Chris cocks a mischievous eyebrow, like he knows how much Sophia is going to hate this. I maintain a poker face and thank him, checking my rifle, loading up on ammunition.

“Be careful,” Chris whispers. “In and out. Don’t take any u

“I will,” I say. “See you soon.”

I kiss his cheek. He squeezes my hand.

“Cassidy,” he says, his voice low. So low that only I can hear it.

“Yeah?” I reply.

“I love you.”

A smile touches my lips.

“I love you too, Commander,” I say. “See you soon.”

And then I am off. Sophia and Vera are with me. There are about five militiamen with us. They are silent. I do not know them by name, but I have seen them in action often enough to trust them.

“This is insanity,” Vera mumbles. “We’re stuck on the outside of the safest city on the west coast.”

“Safe is a debatable term,” I say.

“You know what I mean, Hart.” Vera’s perfect blonde hair has fallen from its tight ponytail, hanging in limp strands around her sweaty face. “This was our last chance at rallying forces against Omega, and they’ve taken us by surprise.”

I don’t want to tell them my theory.

I don’t want to hurt them by making the situation worse.

So I keep it to myself. When we reach the city, they might see soon enough, anyway. There is nothing I can do to stop that.

We move through the woods, quiet and stealthy.

“So what’s your problem, Rodriguez?” Vera demands. “You’ve been a pain-in-the-butt since the Grapevine. Why are you even here?”

Normally, this would be the time where I jumped in to defend Sophia.

But Vera has a point.

“I’m fine,” Sophia snaps. “Shut up and leave me alone.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, soldier,” Vera retorts.

Sophia swings around, stopping dead in her tracks. She takes Vera by the shoulders and shoves her backward, kicking her in the stomach. I am shocked. Not by the violence, but by Sophia. She has never been like this.

I am standing a little ahead of them on the trail.

“Stop it!” I command. “We’re on a mission. Both of you shut up and come on.”

Vera rises from the ground, clutching her stomach.

She shoots Sophia the most lethal glare I’ve ever seen.

The militiamen with me look to me for a signal. Should they interfere? I shake my head, no. Not yet. Not unless they pull out their knives and decide to duel. Until we reach that point… I can handle them.

We trudge to the top of the hill.

Vera is silent. Sophia walks on the other side of the unit, her face a mask of contained fury. At this point, I am so a

Sophia needs a new life. A life without bloodshed and warfare.

We all need that, I think. Until then, hang in there, kid.

We come to the crest of the hill, still hidden in the trees. Sophia stops and stares, and Vera takes a sharp breath. My hands falls limp to my sides.

“Oh, my God,” Vera breathes. “What have they done?”

The Monterey Peninsula is clearly visible from our vantage point on the side of the mountain. The warships have moved to the shoreline. They are anchored off the coast, and shiploads of troops are coming inland. They are moving like black ants, flooding the coastline. The beach is covered with them, an invasion force.

“Why aren’t we retaliating with cruise missiles?” Vera says. “The Alliance is supposed to protect us from this.”

I shake my head. “It’s too late,” I reply. “They’re already here.”

I watch the terrifying spectacle of the Omega troops crawling up the beaches and overru

Chapter Fifteen

“Dad?” I ask. “Why is there war?”

I am ten years old. I’m kicking a soccer ball around the front yard. It is a bright autumn day. Even here, in Culver City, I can smell the quiet descent into winter. Fall is here, Christmas is coming.