“Commander Young and your security detail is waiting for you at the station,” she says. “There will be a convoy to take you there, and from that point, you’re under the protection of the militias.”
I tap the gun holstered on my hip.
We reach the bottom floor.
The doors open once again.
She nods and takes off into the lobby. I shake my head and wonder how in the world things could have gotten so messed up with Sophia. My friend. My partner.
I guess people can only take so much tragedy. Sophia’s family was living in New York at the time of the EMP, and they were killed when the city was nuked. Sophia fell in love with Alexander Ramos, who went MIA. She also loved Jeff Young — Chris’s younger brother — and he was killed in action. Sophia has had her fair share of disappointment and despair.
So have I.
Maybe I just handle it differently. I haven’t gotten to the point of no return.
Yet.
I step outside into the loading area. There are Humvees and up-armored Suburbans here. I see Vera Wright, platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She is waiting by an idling Humvee. I approach her, the roar of engines and chatter among the troops creating a curtain of noise.
“Vera,” I say. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
She stares at me, blue eyes vacant.
“Welcome to war,” she states coldly.
“I was with her when she died,” I continue. “She told me to tell you that she was sorry.”
Vera looks surprised — but only for a moment. She sets her jaw and opens the car door. “Everyone’s waiting for you at the station,” she says.
I exhale. Vera and I have never been friends, but the pain of losing someone that you love is not to be taken lightly. I don’t necessarily like Vera… but I understand what she is going through. It is the same thing that I went through when I saw Jeff Young die. I get a flash of my father’s face in the Capitol Building, just before it collapsed. I shudder, feeling sick. Feeling suffocated.
DO NOT THINK ABOUT HIM.
NOT UNTIL THIS IS OVER.
I inhale. In, out. In, out. I shut it down.
I briefly squeeze Vera’s shoulder and get into the front seat of the Humvee. It is a familiar spot for me. I close the door and Vera gets into the backseat. The driver door opens and Uriah climbs behind the wheel.
He looks at me, serious.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks.
“It’s just another level in the game,” I shrug.
He smiles faintly.
“That’s one way of putting it,” he comments. He hands me a stack of papers, written by hand. It is a mission roster. I skim through the names of the people on my security detail… Chris, Uriah, Sophia, Andrew… but I do not see Alexander Ramos.
“Alexander isn’t on this mission,” I state.
“Apparently not.” Uriah replies. Then, quietly,
“That won’t be easy for Sophia.”
“Welcome to war,” I say, echoing Vera’s words.
“Where is the station from here?”
“Just a couple of miles,” Uriah answers.
“Where’s Manny?”
“Ready on the flight line.” He smiles. “He’s dependable like that.”
Good old Manny.
I trace my finger along the door handle as we wait for the all-clear signal to move out. We roll out in convoy formation. Ever since the missile hit the Capitol Building, it has been painfully obvious that Omega has the ability to breach our security whenever they want. I don’t know what’s stopping Omega from leveling this entire city to the ground. The knowledge that they might strike again is frightening.
“Your security detail will be on the train with you,” Uriah explains. “If Omega finds out that we’re sending a legitimate senator to negotiate California into the Alliance, they’ll try to kill you.”
“They’ve tried to kill me plenty of times before,” I comment.
“This is different. You’ll be a bigger target.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” I bite my lip, thinking of the repercussions this will have on the rest of my life. I’m already known to them as a Militia Commander… but this is a different level of fame, so to speak. With fame comes a higher spot for me on Omega’s kill list. And people like Harry Lydell will be all too happy to try to take me down.
“Don’t worry,” Uriah says, seeing the look on my face. “You’re going to be fine.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I reply.
And that’s the truth.
I’d rather be killed than lose this war.
I’m worried about our survival, not mine.
We wind through boulevards that have been secured and blockaded. I watch the buildings roll by, empty edifices now turned into part of the massive National Guard and militia fortifications. The boulevard dips under a huge underpass and we pop up by the Sacramento Courthouse, a large skyscraper with blue windows. To the left is a large, antique brick building.
The sign out front reads, Amtrak, and beside it, a new sign has been erected:
We pull up through the parking lot — a maze of barricades and militia patrols. We stop at the front. Taxicabs used to sit on the curb here and wait for passengers who needed rides to their hotels. Now it is a military loading zone.
I open the door. Uriah and Vera exit with me. I cast Vera a glance, gauging her mood. She is as steely as ever.
I walk inside the station. The ceilings are huge, and every footstep and word echoes in the hollow chamber. Rows of old, wooden benches line the room. A huge mural of the breaking of the ground for the first transcontinental railroad is painted across the far wall.
I see Chris with militia members in the far corner of the station. He sees me enter and says a quick few words to the men around him, then walks toward me.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, gesturing to the vaulted ceiling.
“Yes,” I agree.
“Hey, boss,” Uriah says.
“Lieutenant True,” Chris nods. “Lieutenant Wright.”
Vera doesn’t respond. Both Uriah and Vera head toward the other side of the building, leaving me alone with Chris.
“What was she arguing with you about this morning?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Chris shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” he says.
“It does to me.”
“Cassie…” He sighs.
“Is she being a pain?” I demand. “Because I’ll tell her to knock it off if she is.”
“Her mother just died. Cut her some slack,” Chris answers.
“I know that. I held Angela’s hand while she was bleeding out on the sidewalk.” I take a sharp breath, realizing that my words came out harsher than I had originally intended. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m a little nervous, I guess. This whole negotiations thing has me wound tight.”
“You’re not the only one,” Chris says.
The thought occurs to me then that I should ask him right now about his wife. His former wife? His current wife? Whatever she is or was, I need to know the truth. Manny told me not to worry about it, but…
“I couldn’t find my father,” I say instead.
Chris’s expression conveys shock.
“Did you search the whole hospital?” he asks.
“Every room,” I answer. “Every bed. I didn’t see him. He’s not listed as a patient.”
For the first time in a very long time, Chris looks genuinely sad.