State of Rebellion (Collapse Series) (7 page)

“But what about the people who aren’t fighting? What about straight up refugees?” I point out. “Who do they take orders from?”

“They don’t. They’re just here to survive.”

“And what if they decide to do something stupid?”

“Like…?”

“I don’t know. Mutiny or something.”

“We would stop that from happening,” Commander Jones says.

“Because
you’re
in charge?”

He blinks.

“All I’m saying is,” I explain, “there’s no clear picture of leadership going on around here. Nobody knows who’s in charge of what, and the bigger this camp is, the more differing opinions you’re going to get, and you need to divide responsibilities up more evenly. People need to know that somebody’s in charge.”

Chris folds his hands under his chin, gazing at me thoughtfully.

“She’s right,” he says. “We’re in charge of our own militias, but nobody’s really running the camp. Anarchy could sweep in fast if it has the chance.”

“The real issue isn’t
this
,” Dad snaps. “It’s what we’re going to do when this fight is over. Then what? Do we start rebuilding? Where’s the federal government? Do we come up with our own governing body?”

Good question. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

Angela looks at Dad. “Personally, I believe that we should build on what’s already in place,” she says. “The laws, the division of powers between the branches of government. We just start where we left off.”

I tap my fingers against my forearms, considering. I guess the militias everywhere would have a responsibility to start rebuilding the country if we succeeded in wiping Omega out. And then we’d have to decide
how
. We’d have to make sure that what we built wouldn’t collapse.

“Why start with a flawed system?” Commander Buckley demands, dropping his fist on the table. “Our government was corrupted beyond all comprehension before the EMP
destroyed our infrastructure. This is our chance to wipe the slate clean and start over fresh, just like the original founders did.”

“And do what?” Dad growls. “Rewrite the constitution ourselves? Come up with a
new
system of democracy?”

“Technically, the United States is a republic,” I mutter.

“You know what I mean,” he says pointedly. “If we manage to push back this invasion, we’ll need a form of authority. We don’t want to become a military state, and we don’t want the population to have total free reign – that’s anarchy.”

“I’m aware of that,” Commander Buckley replies. “I’m also aware that there are a lot of things we could do
better
because of what we’ve been through.”

I look at Chris, gauging his reaction to all of this. I didn’t mean to start an argument about rebuilding the entire freaking government. I was just wondering who was in charge.

Personally, I think Commander Buckley has a point. A really good point.

Why build a rebirthed nation on a system that crumbled apart?

“We know what needs to be done,” I say suddenly, before I can stop myself. “We need a solid form of authority and structure, right? Anarchy will get us wiped off the map. The old system of government will collapse on itself, because it was too corrupted. But the idea of what we had was right on. You can’t argue with that. We
were
the most powerful, most creative, most free nation on earth. So we take what we know and come up with our own version. Like a
purer version of what this is all supposed to be. Maybe this is our chance to fix everything that was ever wrong with our system. We could make sure something like this never happened again.”

Chris gives me a proud look.

I know. I made an intelligent statement. Go figure.

“No,” Dad says firmly. “We do
not
need to go around experimenting with different forms of government. That could set us up for total destruction.”

“Oh? So where are we right now?” I ask. “Last I checked, total destruction was already here. In case you hadn’t noticed, China is sending a million man army to the west coast and every major city from here to New York has been bombed.”

I immediately regret snapping at my father. But I can’t help it.

Can’t he see that he’s wrong?

“The girl has an excellent point,” Commander Jones adds. “Frank, we’re not saying to install a
new
system. Just an
updated
one. One that’s written with the knowledge of people who have seen the previous weaknesses and want to correct them…”

The men drone on and on, arguing back and forth over the issue. Frankly, it all seems a little bit stupid. Shouldn’t our focus be fighting Omega? What good does it do to talk about the aftermath when we’re barely keeping our head above the water right
now
?

After an hour, the men are all but choking each other out, shouting and pounding their fists on the wall. Dad is one of the worst, fingers
clenched around the edges of the table, a vein throbbing in his neck.

Finally, Chris speaks up.

“This is irrelevant,” he states.

Dad explodes, setting his laser-like glare on him.

“What do you mean by that?” he says. “This is necessary. What happens when-”

“-I understand that,” Chris interrupts. “But the fact of the matter is that we
haven’t
won this war yet. We’re walking the razor’s edge every day. Our focus now should be survival and combat strategy. We need to win this war.
That
is our priority. When the time comes, we can worry about rebuilding our infrastructure.”

“No. We need a plan,” Dad insists. His eyes flick to me.

“Sorry,” I shrug. “I agree with Chris on this one.”

Why do I feel so guilty saying that?

And that’s when I hear the sirens.

Chapter Six

Fear surges through my veins.

Sirens
.

The last time I heard sirens was when I was imprisoned in a slave labor camp. I flinch and stand up, a sudden silence falling over the room. Angela freezes. Even Dad appears to be caught off guard.

“What does that mean?” I breathe.

Angela leans back, a slight smile on her lips.

“Manny’s back.”

“Manny? Who’s Manny?”

Angela tilts her head.

“Vera, take Cassidy to meet Manny.”

She nods. I don’t move, confused.

“Wait…
where
am I going?”

“Just go with Vera.” She tilts her head. “Go on. Enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself? Seriously?

Chris starts to stand but Angela places a hand on his forearm.

“No, you need to stay,” she says. “We need you in this discussion.”

But apparently they don’t need me.

Vera heads towards the door.

“Come on, Hart,” she says.

I sigh, locking gazes with Chris as I exit. When we step onto the porch, I chew on my lower lip, self-conscious standing next to Vera in the sunlight. Where I’m covered in scars and freckles, she’s perfect. Where my hair looks like the TV commercial for a chia pet, hers looks like a salon advertisement for Vidal Sassoon.

Figures I’d get stuck with her.

I take a deep breath, suck up my pride, and say,

“So where are we going?”

“To meet Manny.” She walks down the steps and I follow, cutting a beeline across the entrance road. The siren has stopped, and I notice quite a few people heading in the same direction that we are.

“Who’s Manny?” I press. “And why does he have a siren?”

“He doesn’t have a siren,” Vera snorts. “It means he’s
coming
.”

“In
what
? A tank?”

She gives me a weird look.

“It’s a joke,” I say. “I was making a…. never mind.”

Vera takes a right, heading towards the barracks.

“So…” I begin, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“So
nothing
, Hart,” Vera snaps, whipping around. Her blue eyes are sparking, her cheeks flushed with color. “This is
my
home, and you are
not
going to take it away from me.”

I blink a few times.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply, surprised.

“You know
exactly
what I’m talking about.” She folds her arms. We’re both standing in the middle of the road. An epic stare down. “There aren’t any female leaders in the camp besides my mother and I. Don’t mess with us.”

“I’m not here to mess with anybody.”

“I’ve heard all about you, you know.” She does a quick once-over of my appearance. “I was expecting somebody a little more…
intimidating
.”

Tiny but mighty
, I think, remembering a long-ago conversation I once had with Chris about my height.
What is her problem?

“I didn’t come here to challenge anybody’s position of authority,” I state, fighting the urge to land a good kick to her chin. That would be very unladylike. “I came here because Omega killed a lot of our men and we needed a place to stay. Period. If you think otherwise then you’ve got a problem.” I walk around her. “Let’s go see
Manny
.”

Dead silence. A few beats later she yanks on my arm, jerking me to a halt. I instinctively spin and snap her arm into a painful wristlock. I’ve lived in a warzone far too long to react in any other way. She glares at me, wincing. I release her arm and take a step backward, raising my hands.

“You’re not on edge, are you, Hart?” she grits out.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I state.

“I will be
watching
you,” she warns. “
Both
of you.”

“Leave Chris out of this.”

“Chris?” She rolls her eyes. “I was talking about Sophia Rodriguez. Chris is another story. How you two ended up together I’ll never know.”

I feel my cheeks redden as I whirl around, following the line of people. I don’t have to take this. Common bullying tactics. And I’ve always hated bullies. What Vera Wright has against me I have no idea, but she’s going to have to forget it. Or regret it. I don’t have time to engage in petty playground drama. We’ve got a war to fight – and if she has any brains, she’ll realize that, too.

When I reach the meadow, Vera is walking behind me. She says nothing. Neither do I. The long stretch of cut grass is left wide open, and in the distance I can hear the low stutter of an engine. I strain my eyes, searching the meadow for the source of the noise.

“Look
up
,” Vera says, annoyed, a hand on her hip.

I ignore her tone and do as she says, searching the skies. The engine noise gets louder, and suddenly a shape appears against the blue sky. An airplane. A small dark blue biplane with a red and white stripe on each wing. I gape openly at it.

I haven’t seen any aircraft since the day passenger planes fell out of the sky in Los Angeles the night the EMP struck.

“Say hello to the air force,” Vera deadpans.

I gauge her expression. Cold. Icy.

She’s serious.

I squint against the early morning sunlight, watching the old biplane totter across the sky, barely seeming to move at all. It curves toward the meadow, the engine roaring louder as it descends. The aircraft dips down and settles into a graceful landing on the short, manicured grass.

It trundles along for a moment, coasting into a wide U-turn. Finally it rolls to a stop, the engine cutting out. The spectators around the edges of the meadow don’t look nearly as shocked as I am to see an operating airplane in the middle of the High Sierras. They start cheering as the pilot jumps out of the open
cockpit, removing a cap and oversized goggles. He’s a tall, thin man wearing a leather duster. His hair is gray, hanging in overgrown strands to his chin. As his feet hit the ground, he lets out a whoop of victory.

“Welcome back, Manny,” Vera says brightly, approaching him.

So cheery and sweet. What an act.

“Good morning, my girl. Good morning,” he says, shutting the door. Hoisting a black satchel over his shoulder. “How goes life at Camp Freedom?”

“Same as always.”

I come up behind Vera’s shoulder.

“I’m Cassidy,” I blurt out. I’m not waiting for an introduction from Vera. “Who are you?”

Manny assesses me, looking surprised.

“Well, now,” he says, a lazy smile lighting his wrinkled features, “what have we got here? What’s your name?”

“Cassidy Hart. I’m…new.”

“I can see that.” Manny starts strolling across the meadow, and Vera and I follow. “You come alone or with soldiers?”

“I’m with the
Freedom Fighters
.”

“Ah.” He pauses. “The population of redheads just went from zero to one.” He winks at me. “I’m Manny, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. Now where’d you get a biplane?”

“Nosy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Are you going to answer my question?”

Vera sighs dramatically, casting me a weird look.

“Air support. Hello.” She falls into step with Manny and I. “Manny’s plane is how we can keep a better handle on the mountain region. He’s our eye in the sky.”

“You’re a scout,” I say.

“Scout, soldier, pilot, and incredibly good looking.” He starts laughing at himself. “That plane is a good friend of mine. Belonged to my granddad originally. Figured I’d use it for something worthwhile.”

He takes a turn at the main road, heading toward the Headquarters building.

“You reporting to the Commanders?” I ask.

“That’s the general idea, yes.”

“What did you see when you were scouting?”

“Trees. A hell of a lot of trees.” He laughs again. “They’re everywhere.”

I frown. Vera is studying my face closely as we approach the building again.

“Well, come on, ladies,” Manny says, climbing the steps. “Let’s tell the head cats what I found.”

“What did you find?” Vera asks.

“Something. Come on.”

“He’s a little different, isn’t he?” I say.

“
He
can hear every word you’re saying,” Manny replies. “And yes. I am.”

By the time we reach the Headquarters building again, Vera has succeeded in reapplying her fake, friendly façade. Angela and the others look pleased when Manny steps inside. He slams his satchel down on the table and crows, “I’m
back. What have you birds been doing while I’ve been gone?”