State of Chaos (Collapse Series) (21 page)

Yeah. There’s ammo in it.

That’s the second guy I’ve shot at close range today. I swallow the nausea and turn my attention to Kamaneva. What I really
need
to do is kill her, just like every other Omega soldier. I
lift the gun, sighting her. It’s not hard. She’s exposing herself in order to reach me, and that will be the death of her.

But my hands are shaking and I’m having a hard time keeping the sights in the middle of her chest. I adjust the weapon, getting mad at myself. I’m clutching my side with one hand, blood pouring between my fingers. The gun wavers in my other.

Just do it
, I think.
This woman is
evil
. She doesn’t deserve mercy.

Right?

A split second of hesitation is just about the worst thing you can do in the middle of a fight. Kamaneva ducks out of sight, disappearing into the tall grass. I lose her and keep a tight grip on my handgun, unable to stand by myself. All I’ve got left is the gun in my hand – and the ammo that’s left inside it. Once I run out, I’m dead.

Kamaneva crawls out of the grass, slathered in mud and grime. She’s filthy, and there’s an expression on her face that can only be described as possessed. “Dead,” she hisses.

I’m not sure whom she’s referring to. Herself, her daughter, or me.

Probably all three.

“You’re about to be,” I mutter.

She jerks backwards and hits the ground, her hand to her chest. I blink, memories resurfacing of Kamaneva getting shot by Max the last time she tried to kill me. And now red blood is blossoming in the center of her chest, getting bigger by the second. She gasps and stares at me in horror, coughing. Blood trickles out of the corner of her mouth.

She begins to say something – maybe it’s something important, maybe not – but before she can get it out my attention is drawn to the right. A tall man walks out of the bushes. A militiaman dressed in dark brown camouflage with a broad rim hat pulled down over his forehead. His face is covered with a standard face scarf. He looks down at Kamaneva, kicking her weapon aside with his foot. He says nothing.

“Thank you,” I say.

He turns to me and nods, and that’s when I notice the white star etched into the sleeve of
his jacket. It’s a pretty crude depiction, but the shape is distinct. I force myself to my feet. “You’re a Mountain Ranger,” I realize.

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice has a southern twang. “And you’re a Freedom Fighter.”

“That’s debatable, but yeah,” I say. “How are you here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. He drops to one knee.

“We got a tip,” he replies. “And the boss said to come running.”

I turn back to look at the hills. The yelling and gunfire has kicked up a notch and my anonymous Mountain Ranger friend disappears into the battle, leaving me alone with a dying Kamaneva. She’s sputtering for air, turning to the side, trying to spit out the blood pooling in her mouth. Harry has vanished.

I kneel next to her, too wired and wounded to find a boatload of sympathy for a woman who murdered hundreds – possibly thousands – of innocent men, women and children. And yet I still whisper,” I’m sorry.” She looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. “I really
am.” An expression of disbelief crosses her face before she stares into the distance, her eyes going glassy.

Kamaneva is dead.

“Cassie!” Chris bursts out of the grass, grabbing my arm. It takes him about two seconds to assess the situation. He looks at Kamaneva. He looks at me. “You’ve been shot.” His expression tightens and he wraps an arm under my shoulders, dragging me away from the field.

“Where are we going?” I ask, clinging to him for dear life. My energy level is draining away. “Chris? Now is
not
the time to take a grand tour of this place!”

“We’re losing, Cassie,” he replies, moving behind the same vehicle I just took cover under a few minutes ago. “You need to get inside the warehouse and stay safe.”

He pulls back my jacket and lifts up my shirt, looking at my gunshot wound. His face betrays no emotion, but I can tell by the way he’s clutching the material that whatever he’s thinking doesn’t have anything to do with positivity.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I state. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“No.” He takes my face between his hands. “You are
not
going to die.”

Another Mountain Ranger appears from the grass, distinguishable by his broad rim hat and white star on the sleeve of his jacket. “Chris…” I mutter. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

He doesn’t let go of me, but he flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. A human wave of Mountain Rangers are pouring over the side of the hill, opening fire on Omega. Smoke is blanketing the entire field. Mortar rounds explode, sending bits of rock, glass and twisted metal into the air. The constant roar of automatic gunfire permeates the air. The strong smell of gunpowder and burning vegetation is heavy.

“Who gave them the tip?” I wonder, awed.

Chris doesn’t answer. Does it matter? Backup has arrived.

“Just stay with me,” Chris commands. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice. I lean forward and kiss him, tasting sweat and smoke
against his mouth. He holds me with a death grip, breaking the kiss only when it’s absolutely necessary. Both of us are breathing hard.

“Oh, that’s a lovely sight. I’m going to gag now.”

I snap my head around at the sound of a familiar voice. Chris’s brother, Jeff, is standing behind us, decked out in full combat garb, his chest heaving with every breath. “Really, that was dramatic and touching,” he gasps. “But no worries. The Mountain Rangers are here now.”

“You’re supposed to be guarding the camp,” Chris growls. “How did you even…?” And then he drops it. Just like that. There’s a lot to explain, and sitting in the middle of the battlefield behind a broken car with a girl that’s just been shot isn’t the best place to have a heart-to-heart chat.

“Go,” I urge, fighting to take a deep breath. “You need to be a leader right now. You can’t do that if you’re sitting around in the mud with me.”

“Cassie, I won’t leave you.”

“You’re not. Jeff is here.” I touch the side of his face with my hand. “I love you.”

Jeff kneels down next to me, nodding at his brother.

Chris squares his jaw and kisses me one more time.

“Keep her safe,” he tells Jeff. It’s not a request. He stands up and ducks into the tall grass, making his way back towards the battle zone. It’s almost impossible to hear anything over the piercing noise of all the fighting, but I make an attempt to figure out the situation anyway.

“How did you get here?” I ask Jeff.

“Mountain Rangers came into camp about an hour after you left.” He shrugs. “They wanted to help us fight after all. So I brought them.”

I purse my lips.

“Thank you,” I say. “You got here in just in time.”

Jeff takes a look at my wound and makes an effort to stop the bleeding, packing it with combat gauze, wrapping a tight bandage around my waist. He hands me a bottle of water and a couple of pills from a medical kit. I take a long drink and choke the pills down, gagging a few
times in the process. Feeling faint, I put my head between my legs to try to stabilize the rush of blood from my brain. Jeff loosens my gear and tries to give me room to breathe. My body is going into shock and I need to keep it under control, otherwise I’ll end up dead. Not cool.

A few minutes – or maybe it’s a few hours – later, Sophia shows up, bruised and bloody. But she’s still walking, which is a fairly positive sign. “We’re pulling out,” she pants. “Now.” And then she sees my bloody shirt. “Oh, my god. Cassidy, what happened?”

“Kamaneva,” I reply, trembling with the effort of staying conscious.

“She’s
here
?”

“Was.”

“Are you serious?” She helps Jeff haul me to my feet, and I lean heavily against him for support. My limbs are getting stiff. “I can’t believe it.”

“I can.” I start coughing. “Jeff, be careful. Watch for mortar rounds.”

We pull back into the side of the hill, putting distance between ourselves and the
depot. Omega is coming towards us like a dark tide, killing everything in its path. Even with the extra Mountain Rangers filling the field, we’re still being forced backwards.

Chris finds us in the midst of the chaos, grabbing me around the waist and holding me to his chest. He pushes me halfway behind his back, protecting me with his body as we retreat. And as we do, my eyes fall on the wide expanse of the battlefield. The white smoke has turned black, shrouding the scene. The open space is crawling with Omega troopers. And then the line stops, and our side is suddenly pushing back against Omega. It’s the most vicious game of tug-of-war on planet earth. One side surges against the other. More people drop. Another surge. Another round of gunfire. More dying.

“Look!” Jeff exclaims, pointing.

Mountain Rangers are coming from behind the Omega troopers, pushing their way across the field, closing them in on two sides. What’s left of our forces is joining with them, initiating Chris’s backup plan. Rangers and Freedom Fighters form a ring around Omega’s
men, dropping to the ground, firing from hidden vantage points. Omega is completely surrounded, and what’s more, they’re being fired on from every direction. As they move forward, our forces move backwards, and the rest of the Freedom Fighters just follow. Omega troops are trapped inside of a giant circle of fire – and they panic.

The Omega soldiers are scattering, confused. Running for their lives. There’s no mistaking the terror in their voices as they scream frantic orders to their men, trying to stay alive as the fire rains down on them from all directions. And here I am on the sidelines, contributing to the firefight, taking out one trooper at a time with my commandeered pistol despite my gunshot wound. Alexander Ramos staggers through the madness, making his way towards us. He stumbles and falls. Chris moves to help him, but he’s beaten to it by a Mountain Ranger. This one has an eagle feather in his hat – the only deviation from the standard broad rim hat I’ve been seeing on the Rangers all night. He puts his arm under Alexander’s shoulders and
drags him through the firefight to the sidelines, not far away from my position.

The Omega troopers are scattered and on the run. Our forces are left with an opening to retreat, so we move out. Our men move back into the side of the hill, firing on the enemy as we pull away.

Our forces retreat to the other side of the mountain as the Rangers take care of business down below in the field, drawing what’s left of Omega’s forces away from our depleted ranks. Our trucks are close. If we can just reach them, we can get the wounded back to camp before it’s too late. We’ve already lost so many soldiers, though…

“Cassie, stay with me,” Chris says, shaking my shoulders. “Come on.”

I’m zoning out. I feel the cool metal of the pickup truck under my fingers and make a monumental effort to focus my vision. Our troops are piling onto the pickup beds as fast as they can, hauling the wounded along with them. I guess I’m one of them. Chris lifts me into his arms and lays me across the seat in the cab,
gunning the engine. I close my eyes, licking the blood off my lips.

That’s
attractive.

A few seconds pass. Orders are exchanged. Chris floors it. We take off into the night, leaving the battlefield. But it’s not over yet. Omega patrols are out in full force, sweeping the highways and combing through the underbrush. And where do we go? If Harry betrayed us to Omega, doesn’t that mean he told them where our camp was? Are the Youngs and the rest of the camp being raided by Omega troopers right now? How can we go back?

I have so many questions.

“Alright, up we go…” Chris pulls me into a sitting position, pressing his hand against my side. Something breaks in his voice. “Don’t let go, Cassie.”

Jeff is standing on the running board outside the door. He helps pull me out of the cab.

“What are we doing?” I ask, dizzy.

“We have to hoof it,” Chris replies. “The roads are blocked. Too many patrols.”

“It’s too far,” I say.

“We can do it.”

Well,
they
can. I’ll just curl up in a ball and die right here, thank you very much. Yet something in the back of my mind says:
Don’t let go. Don’t give up.
I force myself to keep my eyes open as Chris supports me with his body. I feel like I’m inside out. I’m hot, lightheaded. Everything is too loud and too fast.

What I would give to pick up the phone and call 9-1-1.

“Alpha One?” somebody calls for Chris.

A patrol is moving towards us from across the road. The gunfire from the battlefield is still audible from the other side of the hill. Our troops fall into formation to stop the patrol. My heart sinks. There’s no escape, is there?

“Hey, are you Alpha One?”

Chris turns. A platoon of Rangers are moving towards us from across the road. The Mountain Ranger with the feather in his cap is approaching Chris at the front of the group, his rifle in his hands. His face is obscured behind a scarf, and the only thing distinguishable about his appearance is his eyes.

“Eagle One?” Chris asks.

“At your service.”

Eagle One. The codename for the leader of the Mountain Rangers? It has to be. Looks like Chris is going to get his pow-wow after all. I sag against him, the energy draining out of me like helium out of a balloon. I can’t go any farther. I just
can’t
.

“Cassidy?” Eagle One takes a step towards us. Chris tenses, ready to defend me. An explosion of automatic gunfire deafens the world around us. The moon is shining brightly against the dark sky, illuminating the foothills, making everything look like a different planet. Or maybe I’m just getting delusional.

“
Cassidy Hart
,” Eagle One says, the voice familiar through the haze of pain. He’s pulling off his scarf, moving towards me. Chris moves me behind him, taking a defensive stance. Eagle One drops his rifle to the ground and opens his arms up, the scarf rolled up in his hands.

A wave of shock ripples through me. My eyes focus long enough to recognize his face. It’s
him
. Familiar brown eyes, laugh lines around the
mouth, a military haircut under the broad rim hat. It can’t be. I have to be hallucinating.