Summer Lane - State of Chaos

“Well?” Alexander demands.

I open and close my mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

He scowls and brushes past me.

“Watch yourself, Hart.”

His tone is harsh. Harry and Alexander disappear into the crowd in two different directions. My mind is spinning. What could those two possibly be talking about?

I move back through the audience to catch the tail end of Chris’s talk.

“It’s the same principle as all of the attacks we’ve done before,” he’s saying, “only on a larger scale. We’ll still surround the depot on four sides, and Max and his team will still open the gates for us…but this depot isn’t fully operational yet, so I’m counting on security being a little more lax than what we’ve experienced in the past. Does anybody have any questions?”

Silence.

“Good. Remember, in the event that something does go wrong,” he continues, “We revert to using our backup plan.” A smile touches his lips, and I instantly know what he’s talking about. “Surround the enemy, take cover, and start firing. If they try to break through our lines, just keep retreating and moving with them. Create an inescapable circle of fire. It will be unlike anything Omega’s ever been hit with. Any more questions?”

Nope. Chris’s father steps forward and offers a brief prayer over the camp. When he’s done, I trail behind Chris and corner him back at the truck.

“Alexander Ramos was talking to Harry,” I say.

“Yeah?” He looks at his notebook, biting his lower lip.

“You don’t find that highly suspicious?”

Chris opens the driver door and gestures

for me to crawl inside.

“No. Somebody needs to keep Harry in

line.”

“No. They were talking . Like, engaging in

actual chitchat. It wasn’t cool.”

“Cassie…” Chris literally picks me up and moves me towards the door. “Get in. We’re leaving now. If Alexander was talking to Harry, it wasn’t because he was plotting world domination. He’s a rough guy, but he’s not evil.”

I slide into the passenger seat and roll the window down.

“I disagree,” I shrug. “I think the dude is creepy.”

“He’s not warm and fuzzy, but he’s not a bad guy.”

I disagree with that, too. Alexander is very unpredictable, plus he walks around with a chip on his shoulder. He resents Chris for taking away his position of leadership. I can see it in his face every time I look at him.

But what do I know? I’m not in charge. I’m just going off instinct.

We move out. We’ve got about a dozen trucks loaded with militiamen. The other trucks have already gone on without us. They’ll meet us at a pre-planned rally point down the road. We’re traveling separately to keep the engine noise down — plus, it’s safer for everybody involved if we’re not traveling in one giant wagon train. A bigger group means a bigger target, and that’s not how guerilla war fighters roll.

Sophia jumps into the back of the truck. We lock gazes through the window. She nods, giving me a Girl Scout salute and a weak smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she mouths.

“I know,” I say.

By the time we hit the dusty road, my nerves have calmed down a little. I’ve gone from raw fear to acceptance of the situation, which is what happens to me before every mission these days. And then once the fighting actually starts, adrenaline takes over and I feel like a ninja warrior.

All in all, the drive to Sanger is long. We take our time picking our way through back roads, avoiding the main highway, and only hitting open areas when we absolutely have to. Eventually it becomes impossible to stay away from the wide-open spaces, because let’s face it: that’s what happens when you leave the mountains. You break cover.

I haven’t been out of the foothills in so long that the expanse of open space blows my mind. I feel like an ant under a microscope. Totally exposed. I can tell that the situation is bothering Chris, too. He keeps shifting in his seat and checking the area surrounding us every five seconds.

We reach the rally point at last. It’s a grove of trees nestled behind a low hill. It’s basically right around the corner from Sanger, and it will give us enough time and space to make it on foot to the objective without drawing attention to ourselves. The last thing we need is to march into town like a circus parade. That would be slightly conspicuous.

I climb out of the truck and find Sophia. We give each other a warm hug.

“Be careful,” I say.

“You too.” She forces a smile. “Deja vu, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“The things we do for this country.”

“I know. Crazy, right?”

We hug each other one more time before separating into our designated groups. I stay close to Chris’s shoulder as we disperse into the tall grass, leaving the cover of the vehicles and the small hill. Nobody speaks. Any order or command is given through hand signals, but for the most part, everybody already knows the plan. We’ve raided camps and convoys before. We know how to do this.

This is just…different.

Wide open. Bigger. Exposed.

If you can break out of a labor camp, you can do this , I tell myself.

My hair has grown long enough in the past few months to pull into a tight braid, keeping the strands out of my face. I cinch up my face scarf and check my gear for the thousandth time as we get closer to our target.

As we finally edge around the hill, I spot the depot. It’s located on the brink of an empty field. It was probably a packing shed before the EMP went down, and judging by the size of the buildings, I’m guessing it was a big one. The signs have been stripped down, and a lot of the equipment has been commandeered by Omega. But there’s one thing that sets this apart from the other supply depots I’ve seen: there’s no fence. The usual chain link fence with the coils of deadly barbed wire are completely missing.

“Something’s wrong with this picture,” I say.

“This depot isn’t fully operational yet, remember?” Derek replies. He’s crouched on my right hand side, his blonde hair hidden under a black hat. “They’re not expecting to be attacked this far from the mountains. We’ve never hit anything out of the foothills before.”

“No.” Chris shakes his head. “They know militia groups are waiting to hit targets like this. They wouldn’t leave it unprotected unless there wasn’t anything inside.”

“It could be a trap,” I state.

Derek stares at me.

“What? It could be.”

I give him a look .

Nobody says anything. We just sit there under the dark sky and stare at the depot. Omega trucks are parked around the building, but there aren’t any lights. No signs of life. Something is seriously whacked.

“I don’t like this,” I whisper. “Chris, what do we do?”

He folds his hands under his chin and studies the depot for a few more minutes before replying. “Derek, detail some scouts. Recon the objective. Report back here.”

That’s Chris’s way of saying, “Check out the depot and see what’s up.”

He nods.

“Yes, sir.”

We wait in tense silence as Derek and a couple of the men creep to the depot and check out the perimeter. They disappear from sight at one point and I find myself holding my breath, hoping I don’t hear a sudden scream and a blast of gunfire. It’s happened before.

Ten long minutes pass before the scouts come back. I exhale and Chris leans forward, listening. “It’s dead down there,” Derek breathes. “There’s nothing. No lights, no generators, nothing. But there are trucks, and there have been Omega troops in the area no more than twenty-four hours ago. It’s like they evacuated.”