Summer Lane - State of Rebellion

And that’s when I hear the sirens.

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.”