Summer Lane - State of Rebellion

“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?”

“Nothing much,” Angela replies. “Welcome home.”

Chris glances at me, raising an eyebrow.

I shrug.

Don’t look at me.

Manny kicks back on an empty chair, propping his boots up on the table. Vera practically dives for the seat next to Chris, leaving me as the only person in the room without a chair. I glare daggers at the back of her head as I lean against the wall.

“Well,” Manny says, toying with a loose pen, “I hate to tell you this, folks, but we may be in for some trouble.”

“That’s supposed to be news ?” I mumble.

“What kind of trouble?” Chris asks, shooting me a look.

“Huh.” Manny leans forward, rubbing a hand over his chalky stubble. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“Manny, this is Alpha One of the Freedom Fighters . Chris Young,” Angela explains. “Frank brought them back with him.”

Dad is sitting across from Chris, and I notice that he’s not in a good mood. I guess the previous argument isn’t sitting well between them…Dad’s lips are pressed together, his arms folded across his chest. He looks at me, frowning, and turns his gaze to Manny.

Maybe he’s mad that I sided with Chris during the argument.

Well…I can’t be neutral all the time. I have to make my own choices.

“And you’re who?” Manny asks me, turning. “Cassidy Hart. You’re a Freedom Fighter , too? What?”

“Codename Yankee ,” I say simply.

Manny smiles.

“Ah. I’ve heard of you.”

“Apparently everybody but me has heard of me.”

“Apparently.” Manny flips the pen in neat circle, catching it in the palm of his hand. “We, ladies and gentlemen, are right in the path of a decent-sized mechanized enemy force.”

“A convoy ?” Angela asks, alarmed. “Explain.”

“Not a lot to tell. From the air, there’s a convoy coming in our direction. I couldn’t get too close, but they’re definitely military, and they’re well armed.” He shrugs. “But my advice would be to get ready for their arrival at any rate.”

“How many vehicles?” Chris asks. “How far away are they?”

“I’d say one day,” Manny answers. “The lighter trucks are scouting ahead. And a big line of armored transport trucks are in their wake. Older ones. I could be wrong, but they were moving steadily this way, and they were coming up .”

“Nobody knows about this camp,” Commander Buckley snorts.

“Nobody but other militias,” Angela corrects. “And you never know when information might leak.”

True. Look at what Harry Lydell did to us.

“It could be Omega,” Chris says. “Or it could be someone worse.”

“Who the hell is worse than Omega?” Commander Jones demands.

“Pirates, gangs, mafias, cartels. Anybody.”

“He’s got a point,” Manny replies. “We should be ready for this. Very ready.”

“Every able-bodied man or woman that can pick up a gun should be preparing for a fight,” Angela nods. “Boys? See to it that your people are ready. I want you back here in an hour for mission planning. That will be all.”

Nobody objects. So that’s what happens. We leave and head towards the barracks, gathering our militias together. As we walk back to the meadow, a single thought floats through my mind:

There is no such thing as safe anymore.

We’re running high on anticipation around here. Anticipation, of course, is just a jacked up version of adrenaline. And in my case, it’s tinged with plenty of raw fear.

A convoy? Coming here? Did Omega somehow track us?

No. That can’t be. That just can’t. Nobody was following us.

You don’t know what happened to Harry Lydell , a little voice says. Maybe he followed you.

Again, no. He couldn’t have made the trek back down the mountain that fast. It took us four days to get up here. He would have had to make it back in one. And that is impossible. Unless he got a ride somehow, and that’s unlikely. So there must be another explanation.

Quit worrying about the hows or whys, the voice insists. Just hope for the best and get ready for the worst, like you always do. Remember?

I remember.

Our forces have gathered on the meadows, each one grouped into sections according to their commander. The Freedom Fighters , Mountain Rangers and Legion are here. Commander Thomas, Buckley and Jones are on the other side of the camp. There isn’t enough room for all of us in one spot.

The militia leaders are giving frag orders, preparation instructions, for the likely impending attack. I stand to the side, seething. Vera is right there in the middle of it, engaging in conversation with Chris and my father. Sophia is standing next to me, silent. And I’m burning with embarrassment. More than anything in the world, I’d like to walk over there and contribute to the conversation, but something is keeping me rooted to the spot. Usually I have no problem offering my opinion. Maybe I’m just afraid.

“Don’t feel bad,” Sophia says, hugging me from the side.

“What makes you think I feel bad?”

“Um, I don’t know. The fact that you’re staring over there like you’re going to shoot everybody?” She grins. “You’re kind of easy to read.”

“Well…” I sigh. “Don’t you feel a little left out?”

“You can go over there if you want.”

“I’m not going over there unless they ask me to come.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

‘Then I’m staying here.”

A few beats of silence tick by, and I realize how stupid our dialogue is. What is this, high school? What am I afraid of? Rejection? Embarrassment? Am I jealous of the attention Chris is giving Vera?

Flushed, I suddenly feel angry for allowing myself to be this petty.

I square my jaw and march over there, standing behind Chris’s shoulder. He acknowledges me with a nod — and a slight smile. I immediately feel better. How hard was that? All I had to do was walk across the meadow.

“…There will be contact on the main access road,” Dad is saying as I walk up. He’s turned, talking to Vera and Angela. “There will probably be scouts far ahead of this convoy. We’ll stop them before anybody gets too close to camp.”

“I’ll go,” Vera volunteers, casting me a quick, sour glance.

“So will I,” I say.

“No, you’re not going,” Dad replies, frowning.

“Yes. I am .”

“Frank, how many men will you be taking with you?” Angela asks.

“The road is already well secured,” Dad answers, flicking his gaze to her. “I’ll just bring my scouts.”

“And mine,” Chris adds.

Silence.

Chris says, “Commander Jones and Commander Buckley will also be accompanying us. We expect the military convoy to send out scouts, and there will be a leader among them. Frank and I are coming in case we need to parlay.”