Summer Lane - State of Chaos

Kamaneva crawls out of the grass, slathered in mud and grime. She’s filthy, and there’s an expression on her face that can only be described as possessed. “Dead,” she hisses.

I’m not sure whom she’s referring to. Herself, her daughter, or me.

Probably all three.

“You’re about to be,” I mutter.

She jerks backwards and hits the ground, her hand to her chest. I blink, memories resurfacing of Kamaneva getting shot by Max the last time she tried to kill me. And now red blood is blossoming in the center of her chest, getting bigger by the second. She gasps and stares at me in horror, coughing. Blood trickles out of the corner of her mouth.

She begins to say something — maybe it’s something important, maybe not — but before she can get it out my attention is drawn to the right. A tall man walks out of the bushes. A militiaman dressed in dark brown camouflage with a broad rim hat pulled down over his forehead. His face is covered with a standard face scarf. He looks down at Kamaneva, kicking her weapon aside with his foot. He says nothing.

“Thank you,” I say.

He turns to me and nods, and that’s when I notice the white star etched into the sleeve of his jacket. It’s a pretty crude depiction, but the shape is distinct. I force myself to my feet. “You’re a Mountain Ranger,” I realize.

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice has a southern twang. “And you’re a Freedom Fighter.”

“That’s debatable, but yeah,” I say. “How are you here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. He drops to one knee.

“We got a tip,” he replies. “And the boss said to come running.”

I turn back to look at the hills. The yelling and gunfire has kicked up a notch and my anonymous Mountain Ranger friend disappears into the battle, leaving me alone with a dying Kamaneva. She’s sputtering for air, turning to the side, trying to spit out the blood pooling in her mouth. Harry has vanished.

I kneel next to her, too wired and wounded to find a boatload of sympathy for a woman who murdered hundreds — possibly thousands — of innocent men, women and children. And yet I still whisper,” I’m sorry.” She looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. “I really am.” An expression of disbelief crosses her face before she stares into the distance, her eyes going glassy.

Kamaneva is dead.

“Cassie!” Chris bursts out of the grass, grabbing my arm. It takes him about two seconds to assess the situation. He looks at Kamaneva. He looks at me. “You’ve been shot.” His expression tightens and he wraps an arm under my shoulders, dragging me away from the field.

“Where are we going?” I ask, clinging to him for dear life. My energy level is draining away. “Chris? Now is not the time to take a grand tour of this place!”

“We’re losing, Cassie,” he replies, moving behind the same vehicle I just took cover under a few minutes ago. “You need to get inside the warehouse and stay safe.”

He pulls back my jacket and lifts up my shirt, looking at my gunshot wound. His face betrays no emotion, but I can tell by the way he’s clutching the material that whatever he’s thinking doesn’t have anything to do with positivity.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” I state. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“No.” He takes my face between his hands. “You are not going to die.”

Another Mountain Ranger appears from the grass, distinguishable by his broad rim hat and white star on the sleeve of his jacket. “Chris…” I mutter. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

He doesn’t let go of me, but he flicks his gaze towards the battlefield. A human wave of Mountain Rangers are pouring over the side of the hill, opening fire on Omega. Smoke is blanketing the entire field. Mortar rounds explode, sending bits of rock, glass and twisted metal into the air. The constant roar of automatic gunfire permeates the air. The strong smell of gunpowder and burning vegetation is heavy.

“Who gave them the tip?” I wonder, awed.

Chris doesn’t answer. Does it matter? Backup has arrived.

“Just stay with me,” Chris commands. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice. I lean forward and kiss him, tasting sweat and smoke against his mouth. He holds me with a death grip, breaking the kiss only when it’s absolutely necessary. Both of us are breathing hard.

“Oh, that’s a lovely sight. I’m going to gag now.”

I snap my head around at the sound of a familiar voice. Chris’s brother, Jeff, is standing behind us, decked out in full combat garb, his chest heaving with every breath. “Really, that was dramatic and touching,” he gasps. “But no worries. The Mountain Rangers are here now.”

“You’re supposed to be guarding the camp,” Chris growls. “How did you even…?” And then he drops it. Just like that. There’s a lot to explain, and sitting in the middle of the battlefield behind a broken car with a girl that’s just been shot isn’t the best place to have a heart-to-heart chat.

“Go,” I urge, fighting to take a deep breath. “You need to be a leader right now. You can’t do that if you’re sitting around in the mud with me.”

“Cassie, I won’t leave you.”

“You’re not. Jeff is here.” I touch the side of his face with my hand. “I love you.”

Jeff kneels down next to me, nodding at his brother.

Chris squares his jaw and kisses me one more time.

“Keep her safe,” he tells Jeff. It’s not a request. He stands up and ducks into the tall grass, making his way back towards the battle zone. It’s almost impossible to hear anything over the piercing noise of all the fighting, but I make an attempt to figure out the situation anyway.

“How did you get here?” I ask Jeff.

“Mountain Rangers came into camp about an hour after you left.” He shrugs. “They wanted to help us fight after all. So I brought them.”

I purse my lips.

“Thank you,” I say. “You got here in just in time.”

Jeff takes a look at my wound and makes an effort to stop the bleeding, packing it with combat gauze, wrapping a tight bandage around my waist. He hands me a bottle of water and a couple of pills from a medical kit. I take a long drink and choke the pills down, gagging a few times in the process. Feeling faint, I put my head between my legs to try to stabilize the rush of blood from my brain. Jeff loosens my gear and tries to give me room to breathe. My body is going into shock and I need to keep it under control, otherwise I’ll end up dead. Not cool.

A few minutes — or maybe it’s a few hours — later, Sophia shows up, bruised and bloody. But she’s still walking, which is a fairly positive sign. “We’re pulling out,” she pants. “Now.” And then she sees my bloody shirt. “Oh, my god. Cassidy, what happened?”

“Kamaneva,” I reply, trembling with the effort of staying conscious.

“She’s here ?”

“Was.”

“Are you serious?” She helps Jeff haul me to my feet, and I lean heavily against him for support. My limbs are getting stiff. “I can’t believe it.”

“I can.” I start coughing. “Jeff, be careful. Watch for mortar rounds.”

We pull back into the side of the hill, putting distance between ourselves and the depot. Omega is coming towards us like a dark tide, killing everything in its path. Even with the extra Mountain Rangers filling the field, we’re still being forced backwards.

Chris finds us in the midst of the chaos, grabbing me around the waist and holding me to his chest. He pushes me halfway behind his back, protecting me with his body as we retreat. And as we do, my eyes fall on the wide expanse of the battlefield. The white smoke has turned black, shrouding the scene. The open space is crawling with Omega troopers. And then the line stops, and our side is suddenly pushing back against Omega. It’s the most vicious game of tug-of-war on planet earth. One side surges against the other. More people drop. Another surge. Another round of gunfire. More dying.