State of Chaos (Collapse Series) (19 page)

The question is, what will we do when Omega’s backup
does
arrive?

What kind of backup is it going to be? Where will it come from?

Can we survive it?

The
Mountain Rangers
are hard to contact. Just like our militia, everything is kept anonymous and secret, because let’s face it: you can’t trust anybody these days. Of course, I didn’t trust anybody before the EMP, either. But that was just me. Now everybody has come down to my level.

Ironic.

The Underground is an efficient but slow means of communication, and it will take a few days to find out if they want to have a pow-wow with Chris about joining forces. Until then, our focus is the supply depot that Omega is setting up. It’s located on the edge of Sanger, about twenty or so miles away from Squaw Valley. Because we’ve moved our campsite farther into the hills, it will be a little bit more of a journey for us to reach the depot in our trucks. It will also be hard to be stealthy, because once we leave the shelter of the hills, we’ll be out in the open. Wide
grassy plains aren’t that great for our style of fighting, but Chris will find a way to make it work.

The best thing we can do is take away Omega’s food, water, fuel and ammunition. What Chris likes to call the “meat and potatoes” of war. Because that’s the one thing that everybody needs to stay alive. That’s why hitting supply depots are so important. And we’re getting better and better at it.

My dad would be proud.

And shocked. I don’t know if he ever expected me to amount to anything. I mean, sure, I’d planned on getting a degree in criminal justice before the EMP hit and the world went down the drain, but at the time I had no way to attain that goal. No money, no job, no friends, no family. I was a speck of nothing in a big world that was passing me by.

Now I have a purpose, at least.

As we gear up for the journey down the mountain to hit the Omega base in the nearby valley city of Sanger, my nerves are all over the place. I give an Oscar-winning performance of
calmness for Chris and the rest of the camp, but on the inside, I’m being eaten alive with anxiety. We’ve never tried to attack a target this big before, and we’ve really never tried to hit anything outside of the foothills.

Something about this whole mission seems…
off
.

Go with your gut instinct,
Chris told me. But my gut instincts aren’t like his. Mine are tainted with fear and raw nerves, which makes the “instinct” a little hard to decipher. How do you know what’s real and what’s not?

I’m guessing this is why I’m not in charge.

The night we’re supposed to carry out our mission on the supply depot finally rolls in. Chris is wound tight – more so than usual. My stomach is tied into knots. Even Alexander seems tense about the situation. I guess it’s natural. We
are
wandering out of our comfort zone this time.

“Maybe we should just wait and see if the Rangers will help us,” I suggest to Chris. We’re waiting by our pickup truck, checking our gear. “This is a big target. We’ve got a lot of men, but backup could never hurt, right?”

“We don’t have time to wait around for the Underground to bring us a message back from the Rangers,” Chris replies, tugging on his jacket collar. “I want to hit the depot before they’ve got everything completely mobilized. Before they get everything set up. We
can’t
wait.”

I sigh.

“I just have a bad feeling about this one, Chris.”

He presses his lips together, meeting my gaze.

“Don’t let fear back you into a corner,” he warns. “This is new for us, so it’s intimidating. But we’re more than capable. You know that.”

“I know. But-”

“-No. Cassie, remember what I said about people respecting you? You’re an example. Don’t let people see you being afraid. Be brave. Even if you don’t feel that way.”

I nod, blinking back tears.

“Yes, sir.”

He traces my cheek with the back of his hand.

“We’ll be fine.”

How many times are we going to have to go through this kind of scene? I guess that’s what war does to you. It’s repetitive. It’s also terrifying. Going to college and getting my criminal justice degree would have been a lot easier than this.

Leave it to me to do things the hard way.

“Be careful,” Isabel says.

She’s wrapped up in an oversized windbreaker. Her wild blonde hair is sticking up in every direction, and her baby blue eyes are tinged with red. She’s as tired as the rest of us, despite the fact that she doesn’t do any fighting. Living in an active warzone is enough.

“We will be.” I give her a hug. “Take care of everything until we get back.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“We should be back by morning.”

Chris musses up her hair.

“See you, kid.” He gives her a smile and walks to the center of the camp. It’s time to run through the plan one more time before we move out. I walk around the edge of the ring, spotting Harry in the crowd. He’s talking animatedly to
somebody, but he’s too far away for me to make out what he’s saying. I inch closer, straining to hear. Chris steps into the middle of the circle and starts speaking.

“This will be the biggest target we’ve hit to date,” he says. “Let’s go through the plan one more time and make sure everybody’s completely clear on what they’re supposed to do…”

The man that Harry’s talking to has his back turned to me, and I can’t see who it is in the darkness. I weave through the crowd, trying to concentrate on Chris’s speech and Harry’s movements at the same time.

“…You just watch yourself,” I hear.

Harry’s gaze snaps to the left. He sees me. He stiffens and mutters something under his breath. The man he’s talking to turns around, glaring at me. Alexander Ramos. I suck in my breath. Harry takes a few steps backwards and melts into the crowd, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder.

“Well?” Alexander demands.

I open and close my mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

He scowls and brushes past me.

“Watch yourself, Hart.”

His tone is harsh. Harry and Alexander disappear into the crowd in two different directions. My mind is spinning. What could those two possibly be talking about?

I move back through the audience to catch the tail end of Chris’s talk.

“It’s the same principle as all of the attacks we’ve done before,” he’s saying, “only on a larger scale. We’ll still surround the depot on four sides, and Max and his team will still open the gates for us…but this depot isn’t fully operational yet, so I’m counting on security being a little more lax than what we’ve experienced in the past. Does anybody have any questions?”

Silence.

“Good. Remember, in the event that something
does
go wrong,” he continues, “We revert to using our backup plan.” A smile touches his lips, and I instantly know what he’s talking
about. “Surround the enemy, take cover, and start firing. If they try to break through our lines, just keep retreating and moving with them. Create an inescapable circle of fire. It will be unlike anything Omega’s ever been hit with. Any more questions?”

Nope. Chris’s father steps forward and offers a brief prayer over the camp. When he’s done, I trail behind Chris and corner him back at the truck.

“Alexander Ramos was talking to Harry,” I say.

“Yeah?” He looks at his notebook, biting his lower lip.

“You don’t find that highly suspicious?”

Chris opens the driver door and gestures

for me to crawl inside.

“No. Somebody needs to keep Harry in

line.”

“No. They were
talking
. Like, engaging in

actual chitchat. It wasn’t cool.”

“Cassie…” Chris literally picks me up and moves me towards the door. “Get in. We’re leaving now. If Alexander was talking to Harry, it
wasn’t because he was plotting world domination. He’s a rough guy, but he’s not evil.”

I slide into the passenger seat and roll the window down.

“I disagree,” I shrug. “I think the dude is creepy.”

“He’s not warm and fuzzy, but he’s not a bad guy.”

I disagree with that, too. Alexander is very unpredictable, plus he walks around with a chip on his shoulder. He resents Chris for taking away his position of leadership. I can see it in his face every time I look at him.

But what do I know? I’m not in charge. I’m just going off instinct.

We move out. We’ve got about a dozen trucks loaded with militiamen. The other trucks have already gone on without us. They’ll meet us at a pre-planned rally point down the road. We’re traveling separately to keep the engine noise down – plus, it’s safer for everybody involved if we’re not traveling in one giant wagon train. A bigger group means a bigger
target, and that’s not how guerilla war fighters roll.

Sophia jumps into the back of the truck. We lock gazes through the window. She nods, giving me a Girl Scout salute and a weak smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she mouths.

“I know,” I say.

By the time we hit the dusty road, my nerves have calmed down a little. I’ve gone from raw fear to acceptance of the situation, which is what happens to me before every mission these days. And then once the fighting actually starts, adrenaline takes over and I feel like a ninja warrior.

All in all, the drive to Sanger is long. We take our time picking our way through back roads, avoiding the main highway, and only hitting open areas when we absolutely have to. Eventually it becomes impossible to stay away from the wide-open spaces, because let’s face it: that’s what happens when you leave the mountains. You break cover.

I haven’t been out of the foothills in so long that the expanse of open space blows my
mind. I feel like an ant under a microscope. Totally exposed. I can tell that the situation is bothering Chris, too. He keeps shifting in his seat and checking the area surrounding us every five seconds.

We reach the rally point at last. It’s a grove of trees nestled behind a low hill. It’s basically right around the corner from Sanger, and it will give us enough time and space to make it on foot to the objective without drawing attention to ourselves. The last thing we need is to march into town like a circus parade.
That
would be slightly conspicuous.

I climb out of the truck and find Sophia. We give each other a warm hug.

“Be careful,” I say.

“You too.” She forces a smile. “Deja vu, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“The things we do for this country.”

“I know. Crazy, right?”

We hug each other one more time before separating into our designated groups. I stay close to Chris’s shoulder as we disperse into the
tall grass, leaving the cover of the vehicles and the small hill. Nobody speaks. Any order or command is given through hand signals, but for the most part, everybody already knows the plan. We’ve raided camps and convoys before. We know how to do this.

This is just…different.

Wide open. Bigger. Exposed.

If you can break out of a labor camp, you can do this
, I tell myself.

My hair has grown long enough in the past few months to pull into a tight braid, keeping the strands out of my face. I cinch up my face scarf and check my gear for the thousandth time as we get closer to our target.

As we finally edge around the hill, I spot the depot. It’s located on the brink of an empty field. It was probably a packing shed before the EMP went down, and judging by the size of the buildings, I’m guessing it was a big one. The signs have been stripped down, and a lot of the equipment has been commandeered by Omega. But there’s one thing that sets this apart from the other supply depots I’ve seen: there’s no fence.
The usual chain link fence with the coils of deadly barbed wire are completely missing.

“Something’s wrong with this picture,” I say.

“This depot isn’t fully operational yet, remember?” Derek replies. He’s crouched on my right hand side, his blonde hair hidden under a black hat. “They’re not expecting to be attacked this far from the mountains. We’ve never hit anything out of the foothills before.”

“No.” Chris shakes his head. “They know militia groups are waiting to hit targets like this. They wouldn’t leave it unprotected unless there wasn’t anything inside.”

“It could be a trap,” I state.

Derek stares at me.

“What? It
could
be.”

I give him a
look
.

Nobody says anything. We just sit there under the dark sky and stare at the depot. Omega trucks are parked around the building, but there aren’t any lights. No signs of life. Something is seriously whacked.

“I don’t like this,” I whisper. “Chris, what do we do?”

He folds his hands under his chin and studies the depot for a few more minutes before replying. “Derek, detail some scouts. Recon the objective. Report back here.”

That’s Chris’s way of saying, “Check out the depot and see what’s up.”

He nods.

“Yes, sir.”

We wait in tense silence as Derek and a couple of the men creep to the depot and check out the perimeter. They disappear from sight at one point and I find myself holding my breath, hoping I don’t hear a sudden scream and a blast of gunfire. It’s happened before.

Ten long minutes pass before the scouts come back. I exhale and Chris leans forward, listening. “It’s dead down there,” Derek breathes. “There’s nothing. No lights, no generators, nothing. But there are trucks, and there
have
been Omega troops in the area no more than twenty-four hours ago. It’s like they evacuated.”

“Why would they do that?” I ask.

“Maybe they heard we were coming,” Derek chuckles.

“No. Not possible,” Chris replies. “They wouldn’t evacuate a facility because a militia group was coming to attack, anyway. Besides, why would they leave vehicles behind? They would beef up security because they’d want us dead.” He furrows his brow. “If they’re gone, there could be valuable supplies left inside.”

“We should go check it out.”

“I don’t want everybody checking it out at once. Too risky.” He looks over his shoulder. “Derek, you stay here with your men. I’ll take my platoon. Keep your eyes open.”