Summer Lane - State of Chaos

The Blue Band in the lead approaches him, weapon ready, then lowers it and slaps Grease on the back.

“Nice work,” he says.

I scramble to my feet, recognizing that voice instantly.

Grease steps aside and the Blue Band pulls his scarf down around his mouth, taking off the sunglasses. Green eyes, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

“Chris!” I run forward and tackle him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I breathe in his familiar scent — only today he smells a little sweatier than usual. I blame it on warfare.

“Cassie,” he says, holding me at arm’s length. He looks me over from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”

“That’s kind of a loaded question.” I’m grinning from ear to ear, actually. “I can’t believe you’re here! I can’t even—”

He steps forward and crushes me against his chest with one arm, pulling me into a fierce kiss. My heart stops beating for a few seconds as his fingers dig into my waist and, for a short moment, there’s nobody but the two of us.

And then it’s back to reality.

“Yo, boss. Heads up!” Grease yells.

Chris breaks the kiss, leaving me flushed with color as he picks me up with one arm and moves me out of the way. I grab his arm as he calmly shoots an Omega trooper who’d been creeping towards us in the hallway.

Sneaky.

“How did you know where to find me?” I ask.

Chris pulls me backwards with his team — whoever they are — and pulls his scarf back over his mouth. “Long story,” he says, nodding at Grease, who’s ditched the Omega jacket and tied a blue armband around his upper arm. “I’ll explain later. Right now just do what I say and don’t ask questions, okay?”

I nod, disappointed. Our happy reunion didn’t last long, did it?

I’m still dazed by everything when we exit through a broken window and enter an empty playground area. Hopscotch squares are painted on the ground. Playground equipment has been left untouched.

We stay close to the side of the building, since it gives us more cover than if we were running down the middle of the sidewalk. We’ve got five people with us — four Blue Bands and Grease. Something’s off.

“Who are all these people?” I ask. “Soldiers?”

“Local militia,” Chris answers. “We’ve been…hold it.” He pauses. “Max?”

Grease nods. He checks the corner and gives us the all clear. We run forward, entering the bus stop area where I was almost killed a mere few minutes ago. The front gate around the school has been totaled. A couple dozen Blue Bands are ravaging what’s left of the facility, setting it on fire, shooting it up, blowing it up. Whatever they can do to be a pain.

Omega is in total disarray. I search for Kamaneva on the ground, but her body isn’t there. She could still be alive, then. Great. “Let’s shut this party down,” Chris says, rounding up the Blue Bands. He whistles loudly and makes a circular motion over his head. “Let’s move out,” he yells. “Rally point Echo!” The militiamen have commandeered pickup trucks from the fields and thrown the ladders and buckets out. They’re loading half of them up with fuel containers and boxes of food and supplies. The other trucks are being stuffed with liberated prisoners.

“Cassidy!”

I turn at the sound of Sophia’s voice. She runs towards me, grabbing me in a frantic embrace. It’s kind of painful. “Oh, my god, I thought Kamaneva killed you,” she says, crying. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” I glance at Chris, who’s handling this whole situation like a boss. “I think we were just liberated by a small army.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. Chris is with them, though.”

“Your boyfriend?”

I nod.

Sophia stares at him. “Wow.”

The few Omega troopers that aren’t retreating into the orchards or haven’t been killed yet try to pull off a last ditch effort to keep the prisoners from escaping by rushing the pickup trucks like kamikaze warriors. The Blue Bands are ready for them, though. Gunfire rips through the air as Chris grabs me by the waist, shoulders me into the front seat of a pickup truck, and sets me down in the middle seat. Sophia jumps onto the rear bed with a bunch of other prisoners who are both standing and sitting. Grease swings himself into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. The windows have been rolled down. Chris is sitting shotgun, his weapon ready.

And here I am in the middle of it.

Life is so weird.

“Go,” Chris commands.

Grease floors it. The pickup surges forward. I’m thrown backwards against the seat. The only thing that doesn’t send me flying out the open window is my death grip on Chris’s left arm. The other pickups are following our lead. We roar over what used to be the security fence. Remains of barbed wire and metal are lying twisted on the ground. I turn around in my seat and stare at the school. It’s a barbecue. Totaled. The buildings are destroyed, the grounds are burning and there are dead Omega troopers everywhere. Unbelievable.

I face Chris.

“Who are these people?” I whisper, trembling.

“Friends,” he replies, kissing my forehead.

“ Your friends?”

“ Our friends.”

“Well, that’s a first. I actually have friends now.”

He turns to focus on the road, giving directions to Grease and watching for enemies. But I don’t think Omega will be able to get backup troops in fast enough to stop us.

Shocked and bewildered, I try to focus on what’s in front of us. Country roads, orchards, abandoned farmhouses and, in the distance, the foothills. Beyond that are the mountains.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Away from here,” Grease replies. “And by the way, you can call me Max.”

I watch Sophia hanging on for dear life in the rearview mirror, wondering how many other trucks we’ve got following us in this freedom convoy. Probably five or six. A final, giant explosion lights up the early morning sky above the school. It’s the biggest detonation I’ve ever seen. A pillar of flames rolls through the air, turning inside out with inky black smoke. It mushrooms out in all directions.

The school is gone.

“Mission accomplished,” Chris remarks.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” I say, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” Chris leans closer. “I’m not the only one.”

I guess he has a point. This could be a long road trip.

We drive for several hours. So far we haven’t been ambushed or blown up, so I take that as a positive sign. Negatively, I’m suffering from the aftershock of almost being publically executed by a Russian psychopath. Despite the warmth of the cab, I’m shivering from head to toe. A classic symptom of shock.

Chris senses my discomfort almost instantly.

“Cassie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just… a little wiped out, I guess.”

I’m a lousy liar. He frowns and tips my chin up with his finger, looking at my eyes. “Are you sick? Wounded? Be honest with me.”

“Neither.” I lean against his shoulder. “I almost got shot in the head. Give me a couple seconds to recover.”

Grease — I mean, Max — stifles a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I demand. “You know, I don’t get you. One second you’re an Omega soldier, and then you’re all chummy with a bunch of rogue militiamen from god-knows-where. Plus, you shot Kamaneva. What made you turn on Omega?”

Chris chuckles, sliding his arm around my shoulders, drawing me close to his chest. “Max was never for Omega in the first place, Cassie,” he says. “He’s always been a spy for us.”