Summer Lane - State of Alliance

“Senator Hart,” she says softly, nodding.

“Hello,” I reply. “You’re Elle?”

“Yes.”

“I like that name.” I gesture toward the dog. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Bravo,” she says.

“How did you get into dog handling? You seem… young.”

Elle glances at Chris, who is studying her closely.

“I am young,” she replies. “I found this dog. Actually, he found me. Didn’t know he was a bomb dog at first, but the militias in the Central Valley did. They taught me how to work with him. He’s a rarity, anymore, Senator.”

I watch the dog closely. He’s a beautiful creature, really.

“This is Commander Chris Young,” I say, nodding toward Chris. “You’ve already met Uriah and the rest of the Lieutenants?”

Elle replies, “Yes.” She tilts her head toward Chris. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Chris crosses his arms.

“How old is your dog?” he asks.

Elle shrugs. “I’m guessing three or four,” she answers.

“Interesting that he’s taken a liking to you.” Chris stands up. At six feet, four inches, he is a giant compared to the tiny Elle. She stares at him. “Take care of your dog, and he’ll take care of you.”

Chris nods at Uriah. “I’ll be back. Stay with the senator.”

He exits the train car.

“Sit down, Elle,” I say, pointing to the seat across from my table. “Tell me about yourself.”

I briefly remove my gaze from the myriad of plans and rosters on the table in front of me, focusing on the young, dark haired girl. Elle slowly takes a seat, her dog alert and calm beside her.

“Where are you from, Elle?”

A girl this young should not be alone, working with the militia and the National Guard. But here she is. I don’t ask the obvious: Where is your family? She, like me, has probably lost hers.

“Hollywood,” she replies.

“Really? I’m from Culver City,” I answer. “I was just there a couple of weeks ago,” I reply.

“In Hollywood?”

“Well, downtown Los Angeles. Toluca Lake.” I look at Uriah. “We were both there. On a mission.”

“Is there anything left?” Elle leans forward. She looks desperate. “Is the Klan still in control?”

“The Klan?”

“When I was living in Hollywood, after the EMP and the chemical weapons, most of Los Angeles was overrun by a gang called the Klan. They’re pretty brutal.” She pauses. “I was at a ranch in the Tehachapi Mountains. My Uncle’s place, after the EMP. I went back afterwards… it was empty. He was gone. Everything I thought I knew was changed. That fast.” Elle bites her lip, the ghost of bad memories dancing in her eyes.

I know that look. I’ve been there.

“Well, Mexico has been pushing Omega back in San Diego,” I say. “So maybe that’s helped get rid of the Klan. We didn’t see any sign of a gang that big when we were in Los Angeles.”

“Good. I hope they’re all gone.” Elle scratches Bravo behind the ears. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Senator. You’re famous. So is Commander Young and the Freedom Fighters.” She smiles. “A lot of people like you. They look up to you. You give them hope.”

Strong words from a young girl.

“Hope is important,” she continues, meeting my gaze.

Yes , I think. It is .

Elle nods, as if deliberately imprinting her observation in my mind.

“Uriah, I’m going into the next car,” I say.

Uriah rises and follows me. It’s odd to be protected constantly. I’m used to leading men into battle, not hiding behind them. Not that I’m actually hiding , but I feel as if I’ve been taken out of my element.

This is not what I’m used to.

I leave Elle and Bravo behind, stepping through the connecting doors. Walking on the train is similar to walking on a ship. It throws my balance off just enough so that I have to watch where I’m stepping.

Chris is standing in the center of the car, arms crossed over his broad chest. Andrew is there, as well, and so are Vera and Sophia.

“What’s up?” I ask, approaching them.

“We were just talking about Monterey,” Andrew replies. “When we get there, we’re going to try to keep you inside the Naval Academy as much as possible. It’s the safest location for you.”

“What about everyone else?” I say.

“We’ll be there with you,” Uriah replies, coming up behind me.

“And what about the other representatives?”

“They’ll be staying in the same place you are.”

I contemplate this.

“How far do we take the train?” I ask at last.

“San Jose,” Andrew answers. “And then we’ll take the convoy to Monterey.”

I nod. It sounds reasonable.

It should take just a couple of hours for the train to reach San Jose. The convoy is what will take a long time.

“Anything else I need to know before we get off the train?” I ask, looking directly at Chris. He doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead he looks out the window, a detached expression on his face.

“No,” he replies. “That’s everything.”

“Okay, then.” I turn and leave the car, heading back into the previous passenger level. Elle is still sitting there with Bravo. She looks curiously calm — happy, almost. If she’s anything like I was a few months ago, she’s just happy to be in the presence of the United States Military.

I step into the car just as the rumbling roar of an engine rips through the air. Even above the sound of the locomotive and the dramatic creak of the train cars moving on the track, I recognize the sound. It is the deafening rhythm of helicopter blades beating the air, slicing through the sky. I run to the window and crane my head to see through the small slits. I see the chopper — it is black with a single white O on the side of the door. Omega, of course.

“We’ve got company!” I yell.

But Chris already knows this. Everyone does.

Elle is on her feet, moving toward the window with Bravo. There is fear in her eyes. Her jaw goes taut. Her expression becomes stony.

“We’ve got this,” I tell her, finding strength in encouraging her.

She looks at me.

“Yes, ma’am,” she says.

The machine gun mounts on top of the roof and the plethora of soldiers should deter Omega from doing too much damage. But that is wishful thinking on my part, because I see the chopper move downward, directly parallel to the length of the train. The jarring, deafening roar of automatic weapons fire rains down on the roof of the train. It is extremely loud — like being trapped inside a tin can that’s being tossed down a hill. My ears ring and the train cars shake.

The National Guard units on top of the train return fire. The ground rumbles with each round. The chopper passes over our head with a climactic roar, pulling back into the air. Our deterrent fire drills into the side of their aircraft. I can see the bullet holes from here.

I grip the wall, worried. How many more of those choppers are out there?

The firing continues until the chopper pulls back, veering off course and disappearing into the sky until it’s nothing but a black speck in the distance. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and look back at Elle. Her expression is still closed, but her grip on Bravo’s harness is vise-like.

“We’re okay,” I tell her. “We’ve got more firepower than one chopper does.”

Elle says nothing. She steps back from the window. I turn around and look at Chris. He shakes his head.

I know what he is thinking.

There is no such thing as safe. Not anymore.

We reach San Jose. It’s similar to the train station in Sacramento. The station is tall, made of brick, and fronted with outdoor passenger platforms. When the train slows down, screeching and rumbling to a stop in a cloud of steam, everyone gets ready. My security detail gathers around me. A human shield. Guns up and ready to go. I feel trapped inside the wall. I would rather be on the outside, protecting someone else.