State of Alliance (7 page)

Tell me about it.

We keep walking through the open courtyard between the barracks.

“This big building in the center here is called Herrmann Hall,” Devin explains, falling into step with me. “It used to be called the Del Monte Hotel before the military took it over, and then it was the on-base lodging center for Navy families and visiting SEALS like me and your boyfriend here.” He shakes his head. “Since everything went down, we’ve been using it as Headquarters in addition to lodging.”

“Are any other representatives here yet?” I ask.

“Yeah, we’ve got the reps from Oregon and Washington here,” Devin replies. “We’re still waiting on Mexico. They should be here by tonight.” Then he asks, “You’re a little young to be a senator, aren’t you? What are you…seventeen? Eighteen?”

Chris starts laughing. It’s a good sound – I’ve missed it.

“She’s twenty, Devin,” he chuckles.

“Huh.” Devin shrugs. “You don’t look it.”

I sigh.

We climb the steps into Herrmann Hall. The door is arched. Inside, I’m struck with the unique, old-fashioned vibe of the building. It’s beautiful. Dark flooring, light walls, and a wooden concierge desk. Navy officers and National Guards are manning the
area. Those that are sitting down stand up immediately as Chris and I enter the room.

“As you were,” Chris says, tilting his head.

I am used to this, so I don’t flush with embarrassment like I would have in the past. Devin smirks and walks to the front desk, where a young man in the dark blue camouflage of a Navy uniform greets us.

“Tell the reps from Oregon and Washington that California just arrived,” Devin says. “This way, Senator.”

He gestures to a long, ornate hallway. The Spanish tile and blue carpet running down the center resembles the long walk into a throne room. It makes me a little uneasy.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying while you’re here,” Devin tells me. “Both of you. If the representative from Mexico gets here on time, we should be able to hold Negotiations as soon as tonight.”

“How are the Naval forces holding up here?” Chris asks.

“Couldn’t be better at the moment,” Devin replies. “Monterey is among the most secure military
strongholds on the west coast. Omega won’t touch it right now. Their forces are concentrated down south.”

We reach the end of the hall. The main stairwell extends above us. I feel like I’m inside a castle. We climb the carpeted stairs to the next level. Up here, the halls are narrower and lit with generator-powered lights. Devin walks to the center of the hall. There are two doors.

“One room for you,” he tells Chris, “and one for the Senator. Your security detail can still do its thing. We’ve secured the entire base. The Navy’s protecting the city on the water, and the National Guard is protecting the city on the ground. You’ll be safe here.”

I raise an eyebrow.

Safe is a relative term, anymore.

“Thank you,” I say.

Devin gives me a key – it’s old fashioned, metal. I slide it into the lock in the door on the right and open it. The room is lovely, Spanish style like the rest of the building. There is a bed, chair, table and a bathroom. Wide windows overlook the huge, open courtyard between the two major halls of the connected buildings.

“We’ll notify you immediately when the representative from Mexico arrives,” Devin promises. “Do you have any questions? Anything you might need?”

I share a brief glance with Chris.

There’s nothing that I need right now, aside from rest.

“We’re set,” Chris replies. “But can I talk to you for a minute, Devin?”

Devin nods.

Andrew, Vera, Sophia, Elle and Bravo leave the room. Chris slips into the outer hall with Devin. I close the door behind them, walking to the window again. The courtyard is full of soldiers and military vehicles. It is a well-organized operation. And, unlike Sacramento, it seems to be impenetrable.

We’ll see how long that lasts.

The meeting room looks as scary as a battlefield. A long, narrow room stretches before me, huge windows covered with thick curtains. A table stretches the length of the space, modern and dark. There are thirty swiveling chairs. Chairs also line the walls of the room. The ceiling is swirling with ornate
designs in burnt oranges, deep reds and gold tones. There are armed guards every few feet in the room. A huge American flag is hanging above a large piece of artwork at the opposite end of the table.

I take a deep breath.

Chris is standing behind my shoulder. Uriah, Vera, Andrew, Sophia and Devin May are to my right, remaining in a standing position. The table is relatively empty. Only four people, along with their armed escorts, are here.

I’m wearing black combat fatigues and a jacket, hair pulled tightly into a bun, armed with a handgun and a knife strapped to my hip. I walk to the table, nod at the representatives, and take a seat. There is no friendly banter or introduction. I simply sit down in the chair behind the CALIFORNIA placard.

Chris takes a seat in one of the chairs at the edges of the room. There are plenty of people gathered, listening and watching. Naval commanders, National Guard Officers, security details, armed guardsmen and militia leaders.

“Welcome, Representatives, to the Negotiations.” A tall black woman with short hair is standing at the head of the table. “I am Commander Jen Amal, leader
of the California coastal militia group
Seahawks
. I will be the presiding mediator for these negotiations. Thank you to the Representatives who have made the long and dangerous journey to Monterey to engage in these discussions.”

A beat of silence. A bead of sweat slips down my temple.

I do not show my fear. I keep my hands folded. I am the picture of calm.

Commander Amal gestures to a short, stocky man with a gray beard. His placard says OREGON. “Senator Ken Thrawn, Commander of the Oregon militia group
Titans
.” He nods respectfully, and I notice that his left hand has been amputated. “Senator Nathaniel Mero, Commander of the Washington militia group
Red Fox,”
Amal continues, nodding at a younger man with long brown hair and a scarred, beaten face.

Commander Amal gestures next to the man with the CANADA placard, a white-haired gentleman wearing a camouflage jacket and thick black gloves. “Senator Marshal Sullivan, Commander of the Canadian militia confederation group
The Strikers,”
she says. Then she turns to a woman sitting behind the MEXICO placard. She is pale white with black hair
and blue eyes. A deep, red scar cuts through her cheek, into her lip. And yet somehow she is still beautiful. “Senator Anita Vega, Commander of the Mexican militia group
Coyotes
.”

Commander Amal surveys the room and then holds an open palm in my direction. “And representing California in the these Negotiations to join the alliance is Senator Cassidy Hart, Commander of the
Freedom Fighters
and
Operation Angel Pursuit
.”

My face warms when she mentions my name. I feel slightly out of body, like I’m dreaming. I tell myself to relax. This is not a battlefield, but it might as well be. I have to go into this with the same mentality:

Keep it together. Failure is not an option
.

“Senator Hart, since you are representing the state of California, the entity who wishes to join the Pacific Northwest Alliance, will you begin the Negotiations?” Commander Amal suggests.

I nod. I have been around the block when it comes to this war with Omega, so I figure…why not be direct?

“I’m representing California, as you know,” I say, projecting my voice. It echoes in the big room. “What do we have in common? We are all fighting Omega. Omega has taken everything from us – our homes, our
families, our friends. Our way of life. But they haven’t taken away our will to fight, or to be free. That’s what unites us. That’s what brings us together.” I briefly lock eyes with Chris. I continue, “California, Mexico, Canada. It doesn’t matter that we’re independent countries. Right now we’re all on the same playing field. To stay alive and to maintain our freedom, California needs your help, and you need California’s help. Our coastline is huge, and we need help keeping it secure, and keeping Omega from pushing into the Central Valley and taking our agricultural resources. In helping us, you will be helping yourselves. As long as Omega can’t get a stronger foothold in California, their chances of breaking our defenses anywhere on the Pacific coast are significantly slimmer.” I hold my hands out. “It’s simple, really. We need you, you need us. It’s a win-win situation for everyone. Omega needs to be destroyed, and together, we can achieve that goal.”

Seriously. It’s not rocket science.

“And what guarantee do we have that when the war is over, California will not overstep its territorial boundaries?” Anita Vega, the representative from Mexico speaks up. “America has taken Texas and
California from us in the past. Perhaps in exchange for our help you could return territory to Mexico?”

I shake my head.

“This isn’t about territorial claims or disputes,” I say. “This is about getting Omega
out
of our countries. This isn’t for our governments. I mean, come
on
. Our governments are all but destroyed. They’re a sad joke. What have they done to protect us from Omega? Nothing. The only reason we’ve got a shot is because people like you and me – average, everyday people – are taking it on themselves to grow a spine and duke it out with the bad guys.” I press my index finger on the table. “And right here is how we do it. We join forces now, and we make crushing Omega our main goal. End of story.”

“So we don’t have any prizes for anyone,” Marshal Sullivan, the representative from Canada interjects. “Which means our incentive is the same – defeating our common enemy. That strengthens our cause. I agree with Senator Hart in this. There is no other way. I see no reason to deny California membership in the Pacific Northwest Alliance. We need California as much as they need us.”

“True, but let’s say the war ends,” Anita shoots back. “Omega is hypothetically defeated and the world is restored to how it used to be. While we are rebuilding society, do we remain in an alliance, or do we break apart?”

“We’ll establish that when the war ends,” I say. “Honestly, think about how long it’s going to take to rebuild everything. I mean
everything
. Right now we’re running on backup generators and some emergency supplies, but it could take a hundred years to completely restart. We’ve got limited technology left. A huge chunk of the population has been wiped out. It will take time. Right now we have one priority: destroy Omega, then worry about step two.”

“I think it would be of interest to the company gathered here to note that we have had limited communication with the United Kingdom, Germany and Russia,” Ken Thrawn, the Oregon representative states, his voice deep and bellowing. “They’ve been wiped out by an EMP, as well. They are in the same boat as us. There are few places in the world that have been left untouched by the scourge of Omega, and most of those locations are completely taken over by the enemy.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” I ask. “We really
are
Earth’s last hope. If we go down, we take the last free continents on the planet down with us. Omega takes over Mexico, Canada, and the United States. They take over Europe, the Middle East and Asia. The planet is ruled by a dictatorship, we all die, and everything good goes up in flames.” I look at Chris again. His eyes are sad, knowing. “So there it is,” I say. “That’s the truth. Are you going to help us win this thing or not? Because even if you say no, even if you don’t want California in the Alliance, I’m still going to go out there and fight Omega every day until the day I die. Because they’re killing us – all of us. I know where I stand. The question is, where do
you
stand?”

There is a heavy silence in the room. And then Nathaniel Mero, the scarred young representative from Washington finally says something.

“The Senator is right,” he says. His voice is slightly slurred. “This is not a question of politics or revenge. This is about right and wrong. It is wrong for us to stand by and do nothing – we know this, otherwise we wouldn’t have created the Pacific Northwest Alliance. It is our moral obligation to fight for what we believe in and to defend our homeland from this invasion. We
all know this. It is absolutely necessary is to allow California to join us. Our survival depends on it.”

His words hang in the air.

Let the games begin
, I think.

I have done my part. Now it is in their hands.

I pray to God they do the right thing.

Chapter Seven

The Negotiations adjourn for the night. I was under the impression that my heartfelt – and, in my opinion, pretty
inspiring
pep talk – would open the Alliance’s arms to California. And it did, as far as I know. But the representatives will take a vote, and I will know tomorrow if California is in for
sure
. I am clearly not a politician, and the complexity of negotiations and strategies may always elude me, but I know the difference between right and wrong. I have common sense, and I am not afraid to draw a line in the sand. My first priority is to destroy Omega, and I will do that in any way that I can.

“You did outstanding, Cassie,” Chris says.

We are walking toward the Herrmann Hall ballroom. The hallways are lit with generator-powered lights, dull orange colors that thrum and hum against the pale walls. My fingers are still shaking and my face is warm. Public speaking has a way of doing that to me.

“Are we in?” I ask quietly.

“We’d better be,” Uriah interjects. “I don’t see any reason why they would reject us. Everyone but Anita Vega seemed pretty enthusiastic.”

“Anita was fine,” I say. “She’s just trying to
negotiate.”

“I can’t believe it will take them until tomorrow to take a vote on this stupid thing,” Vera snaps. “This is a state of emergency – we’re at
war
. We’re either in or not. How long do they have to drag it out and
talk
about it?”