Summer Lane - State of Chaos

“Stop this!” I say, running to Chris. I grab his arm. “You can’t kill him.”

“If he betrayed you once, he’ll betray you twice,” Chris replies. His eyes are bright with fury as he draws his handgun. “Get out of the way.”

“Just get on with it!” the militiamen urge.

I shove Chris’s gun aside. He turns his angry gaze on me and drops Harry, taking a step back. Harry coughs and hacks on his hands and knees. I stand between him and Chris, raising my chin.

“We can’t execute people,” I say. “We’ll be no better than Omega if we do.”

“Sometimes executions are necessary,” Chris spits.

“This piece of filth doesn’t deserve to live,” Max adds, folding his arms across his chest. “You do realize you almost got shot in the head because of him, right?”

“I know exactly what he did,” I reply, waving my fist in Max’s face. “And it’s not like I’m ready to give him a free pass out of jail and bake him a cake. I’m saying we can’t kill him. Omega kills people. We can’t. We have to live by the law of the land — nobody else will if we don’t.”

I glare at Chris. A muscle ticks in his jaw. We endure an epic stare-down before he finally turns to Harry. He kicks him hard and hauls him up by his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “Look at her,” he growls. “She just saved your worthless life. It won’t happen twice.”

He shoves him towards Max.

“Give him a job,” he commands, taking my arm.

I release a breath, thanking God that this little scene didn’t play out the way I thought it might. We just came this close to dissolving into total anarchy.

The tension is palpable as the militiamen disperse and Harry is dragged off by Max. As we leave the trucks behind, I realize that we’ve parked right outside a large campsite. Blankets and tents are arranged throughout the wooded areas. Pots and pans, bags of supplies, weaponry. Men wearing the same dark blue armbands are standing guard around the perimeter of the camp. They nod respectfully at Chris as he passes.

“So this is your army?” I whisper.

“You might say that,” Chris replies.

“Can I have an army, too? Because that would be awesome.”

Chris stops and pulls me aside, pressing me flat against a pine tree.

“Consider it done,” he says, kissing me on the lips. I thread my fingers through his long hair, feeling the roughness of his beard scratch my cheeks. “I missed you.”

He pulls away to look me in the eyes.

“Not as much as I missed you,” I say.

“Doubtful.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me when I came back to the trailer and you were gone?”

“I have a general idea.” I smile softly. “I’m sorry. There was an Omega trooper inside the house. I don’t know how he got in.”

“Omega patrol.” Chris kisses my forehead. “We need to have a long talk about everything that’s happened.”

“I agree.”

“But first there’s something you need to see.”

“Does it involve dinner? Or a bath?”

Chris grins.

“Yes, actually.”

I take his hand and follow him through the camp. Men and women alike are mingling together, doing chores, stitching up wounds. Some of the females are standing guard along with the men. There’s a large makeshift tent set up at the edge of camp, open in the front and closed in the back. Camping chairs and tables are arranged around it. Chris places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me forward.

“Look who’s home,” he announces.

I give him a puzzled look before a familiar head of blonde hair appears at the mouth of the tent. My jaw drops.

“Isabel?”

“Cassidy !”

Twelve-year-old Isabel crosses the space between us and throws her arms around my neck. I hug her back, shocked.

“How…?” I ask.

She stands back and I smooth her hair away from her face. It’s longer than it used to be, but still untamable. Her blue eyes are wide with delight. She’s wearing loose cargo pants and boots, her jacket buttoned up to her neck.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she squeals. “I missed you so much!”

I look to Chris for some sort of an explanation. He laughs out loud just as somebody else walks out of the tent.

Chris’s mother is wearing old jeans and a plaid button up — just like she was the last time I saw her. Her gray hair is swept into a loose bun. When she sees me, she starts smiling. “Cassidy Hart,” she exclaims, pulling me into a warm embrace. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“How are you here?” I ask, returning the hug. “Seriously. I’m confused here.”

“Well, you’re about to get a whole lot more confused,” a voice says behind me.

Chris’s younger brother, Jeff, ambles out of the tent, yanking me into a bear hug. He musses my hair. “What happened to you? You look like a rocker chick with that haircut.”

I make a face.

“You’re one to talk.”

His hair is starting to get shaggy around the edges, making me wonder if he’s trying to copy Chris and grow his hair out long. Whatever. I hug him again. And then Mr. Young steps outside. His appearance is unchanged, but his eyes are sad.

“Cassidy,” he says. “Good to see you back.”

I turn in a circle and look everybody over.

“This is real , right?” I ask. “Chris? Explain please.”

“Why don’t you come inside and rest?” Mrs. Young suggests. “We’ll explain everything.”

Chris slips his arms around my shoulders and leads me inside the tent. I take a seat on a foam mattress, crossing my legs. Isabel snuggles up against my shoulder, wrapping her hands around my arm. “You look weird with short hair,” she says.

“Gee, thanks,” I reply, too tired to get my feelings hurt.

Jeff settles down beside us while Mr. Young sits on a camping chair. Mrs. Young starts rummaging through a cardboard box full of supplies. “You must be starving,” she says. “I’ll get something for you to eat.”

“Don’t forget your hungry son, either,” Chris comments.

“I won’t.” She smiles fondly at him. “I was worried about you today.”

“I’m back in one piece. Don’t worry, mom.”

She presses her lips together.

“How are you guys here?” I ask. “Chris and I saw your house burned down. There was nothing left. I thought Omega took you!”

“Do you remember when you left to go find your father up at your family cabin a few months ago?” Mrs. Young says, pulling out some canned goods. “Chris left the next day to find you. He was so worried.”

“I remember,” I reply.

“You were gone for a couple of weeks,” she continues. “I knew you’d be coming back — Chris wouldn’t leave you out there alone. But Omega came.”

“I was out hunting,” Jeff explains. “I saw them coming, man. They were burning houses on their way up the hill. I came home and told the folks, and we took off.”

“Omega burned the farm and killed the animals,” Chris adds.

“Where did you go?” I ask Jeff.

“Here. Well, not here specifically, but to this group.” He leans forward. “The Free Army is basically what’s left of Squaw Valley. Anybody who hasn’t been enslaved, subjugated or killed is right here in this camp.”

“They took us in,” Mrs. Young adds. “We’ve been here ever since.”

“I found them after you were taken, Cassie,” Chris says. “I ran into some of the militia and they took me back to camp. After I found my folks, I started working on finding you .”

“Mission accomplished,” I smile.