“You don’t know that for sure, Elle,” Aunt replied.
“Yes, I do.” Elle stepped into the kitchen, placing her hands on the breakfast table. “He was supposed to be back here with Mom two days ago. I’m telling you — he’s dead. You haven’t seen the city like I have. It’s bad. People are killing each other and—”
“I have seen the city, my girl,” Uncle interrupted. “I don’t take my plane out every day for pleasure rides anymore. I’m looking, searching. And what I’ve seen are bad things.”
“We have to go back into the city and find Mom.”
“We can’t do that.”
“How can you say that? She’s your sister! She’s your—”
“Enough, Elle.” Aunt raised her hand. Elle shut her mouth. “We have something we want to say to you.”
Elle tensed.
What could they possibly have to say to her at a time like this?
“I’m leaving,” Uncle said.
“You’re… going away?”
“Yes. I think I can help the militias in their fight against the Omega invasion. I’m going to do my duty and help end this nightmare.” He looked at Aunt, and she touched his hand across the breakfast table. “I feel called, I guess.”
“You’re leaving us alone to go join a militia somewhere?” Elle repeated.
“I’m leaving to fight for my country—”
“Don’t give me that patriotic crap. You’re leaving.”
“It’s not crap, Elle. It’s the truth. It’s not right for me to sit here and wait this out.” Uncle shook his head, running a hand through his wild gray hair. “I’m able to help, so I have to. I’m obligated.”
“You mean you’re obligated to go join a militia, but you’re not obligated to go looking for your own family lost in the city?” Elle’s vision was red around the edges — she was furious. “I can see what’s more important to you.”
“Don’t take it like that. Searching for your mother would be like searching for a needle in a haystack,” Aunt answered. “It’s not that we don’t love her — because we do, Elle. We love her so much. But we can’t help her, so this is what we can do to help. Everybody needs to play their part — including you.”
Elle stared at them. They were so calm, announcing Uncle’s departure. Announcing the acceptance of Mom’s death. How could they be like this? Didn’t they care at all?
“Fine,” Elle said. “Do what you want.”
“Elle—” Uncle began, but Elle stalked away.
“I’ll do it myself, then,” she muttered.
She would have to go back into the city, and she would have to do it alone.
Elle sat at the end of a plastic table, absently stirring the hot bowl of stew in front of her. It smelled delicious, filled with chunks of meat and pieces of vegetables. She ate slowly, savoring the flavor. It had been so long since she’d had real food. She didn’t want to make herself sick by eating too fast.
Bravo sat on the floor by her feet, eating a bowl of food provided by the woman called Myra Linch. It was a mix of old meat and cuts of fat. The dog practically inhaled it.
There were conversations all around her. Voices echoed against the underground walls. It was overwhelming. So many people in one room. So many potential threats.
Elle kept her head down and listened, trying to latch onto a single voice to focus on, to keep the clamor of the crowd from becoming overwhelming.
“…The Freedom Fighters is where it started, initially,” one woman was saying. “One of the first militia groups in the hills, a hillbilly group of rednecks, the way you’d hear the Scouts tell it. But it was effective.”
“And the Mountain Rangers?” a man asked.
“Further up in the Sierra Nevadas.” The woman paused. “Rumor is, the militias in the mountains are in a bit of trouble. They couldn’t stay hidden from Omega forever, after all. The Mountain Rangers have been fleeing — they say they’re headed toward the coastline. Monterey, maybe. Monterey is supposed to be safer than Sacramento.”
Elle frowned and took another bite of the stew.
“The militias and the U.S. Military are becoming one,” the man replied, his voice lower. “It worries me.”
“I trust our military a lot more than I trust Omega,” the woman said.
“So do I, I’m just saying…” Another pause. “Merging all of these groups of people at a time like this. Either it’s a smart move or a ticking time bomb.”
Elle shook her head. She didn’t know what to think.
“Hey, we’ve been looking for you, shortstack.”
Georgia sat down in a chair across from Elle. Flash sat directly beside her and Jay took a place on Elle’s right. “What did he say?” Jay asked.
Elle pulled herself out of the conversation behind her.
“Who?” she said.
“Lieutenant Danes,” Jay replied. “What did he say when you talked to him?”
“Oh, that.” Elle shrugged. “He said we could stay… for now.”
“What else did he say?”
“That’s about it, actually.” Elle didn’t tell them about Nathan Ingalls. For some reason, she didn’t think they needed to know. “As long as we keep our heads down and behave, they’ll let us stay.”
“But not forever. They can’t just feed hundreds of people every day indefinitely,” Georgia pointed out, smoothing her curly hair. “They’ve got to kick people out at some point.”
“People here have jobs,” Elle said, nodding toward the guards at the doors. “People contribute to the cause, and they get a place to stay and food to eat. It’s not a bad system.”
“So if we want to stay we’re going to have to work,” Flash replied.
“Yes, which is completely fair.”
“Totally.” Georgia smirked. “I’ve never had an honest job before.”
“Speak for yourself, blondie,” Jay cracked. “I’ve had lots of jobs.”
“Yeah? Name one.”
“My parent’s liquor store. I ran that in high school.” Jay swallowed his food, then suddenly stopped talking.
She understood that. She knew that pain.
“…There’s a lot of colorful characters with the militias, too.” Elle tuned into the conversation behind her once more as her table fell into morbid silence. “A mixed bag,” the woman said, laughing. “They’ve got ex-teachers and lawyers toting rifles. It’s quite an army, let me tell you.”
“You’ve seen it?” someone asked.
“I was running with the Freedom Fighters until a few weeks ago,” the woman continued. Elle barely turned her body, enough to glance long strands of white-blond hair, sandy fatigues and a denim jacket. “Good people. They weren’t born fighters, but they became fighters. Our commander, Chris Young, was the best leader the militias will ever have.”
“There’s a lot being said about him lately.”
“Rightly so. He’s a good man.”
“So how did you end up down here?”
“The Freedom Fighters split. Commander Young and the better lieutenants like Cassidy Hart and Alexander Ramos joined the National Guard in Sector 20. I didn’t like being up in the hills without Young as a leader. I came down to find the National Guard. Had some help locating them from the pilot at Camp Freedom.”