“We have no choice,” I say again.
Chris nods. He picks up the radio and informs the rest of the convoy of our decision. There is no argument. We will take the back roads. Manny will inform us of any activity further down the road.
My heart sinks into my stomach at the realization that at least two vehicles were blown up. At least a dozen people were killed. Vera and Sophia are okay, but there are already casualties. And we haven’t even started negotiations yet.
Chapter Six
“There she is,” Uriah mutters, whistling softly. “Beautiful.”
The ocean. It is a clear, sunny day. The white sand dunes are sparkling against the backdrop of the vast, blue Pacific Ocean. I haven’t been to the seashore in at least a year — and certainly not since the EMP and Omega invasion.
“Wow,” I breathe. “It’s stunning.”
The highway here is wide and empty, parallel to the beach. In the distance, the Monterey Peninsula is clearly visible, jutting into the harbor like the tip of a half moon. Old beachside hotels line the freeway. There are military checkpoints at regular intervals. We have spent hours navigating through the back roads, connecting with Highway 156 and southbound Highway 101, avoiding ambushes and potential problem areas. Manny has been flying in front of our convoy all day, keeping us updated on ground activity.
I touch Chris’s knee and force a smile. A bit of the tension between us dissipates. With each near-death experience, we are reminded that even if we are having difficulties in our relationship — we are glad to be alive, and we are still a team. It is an encouragement to me, even during these hard times.
I lean close to the window, almost pressing my nose against the glass as we enter the city limits. The convoy rumbles to the right-hand side of the road and we take an exit onto Del Monte. We roll through the city.
There is a jogging trail and pretty, overgrown parks. We pass three more checkpoints. There are National Guardsmen and militiamen and women everywhere, in the parks, near the buildings. The streetlights have been replaced with military intersections, with National Guard troops directing traffic, waving us through to what’s called the “staging area” for our convoy.
The road curves, and a long wrought-iron fence becomes visible. A thrill of excitement and raw anxiety shoots through me.
This is where the next chapter begins.
The convoy rolls around the curve in the road. We come to a gated entrance. The compound is surrounded with thick, green trees. I see an on-base military store and gas station, a post-office with glass windows and a large manmade pond swarming with noisy geese.
The convoy halts. We pass another checkpoint at the front guardhouse. National Guardsmen check the vehicles and ask for the identification of our senior officers. One of the younger soldiers makes eye contact with me through the window. He smiles slightly before turning away.
“They’re happy you’re here,” Uriah mutters.
“They’re happy we’re here,” I correct.
Uriah gives me a strange look and the convoy moves forward. The gate opens and we roll into a large parking lot, heavily shrouded with more of the same trees — sweet smelling coastal pines, palms and oaks. The convoy stops. The engines shut off.
It’s time to go.
Uriah holds the door open for me as I climb outside, into the clear sunlight. The air is clean. I smell the salty spray of the ocean in the wind.
Chris takes my arm and turns me toward him.
“No matter what happens,” he says quietly, “we’re a team.”
I open my mouth to reply, but I am interrupted by a harsh, “Chris Young?”
Chris removes his hand from my arm and we both look at a man approaching us. He’s tall — almost as tall as Chris — with blonde hair. His hair is so blonde, it’s nearly white. He’s dressed in dark fatigues and a blue shirt that says: SEALS.
“Devin?” Chris says.
The man stops and salutes us. Chris nods respectfully, following military protocol. And then a huge, sincere smile spreads across his face. “Devin! Son of a gun!”
He embraces the man and they start laughing. I trade a blank glance with Uriah. He shrugs. Vera, Andrew, Sophia and Elle come around the back of the convoy just in time to glimpse the two men hugging.
“I can’t believe you’re here, man,” the guy says.
“Yeah, neither can I,” Chris replies. He takes a step back and gestures to me. “Devin, this is Cassidy Hart. Cassie, this is Devin May. We went through SEAL training together.”
“Oh, back in the old days, huh?” I quip.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Devin says, taking my hand. “You always knew how to pick up a lady, Chris.” He mock kisses my hand. “This is your team?” He nods at Uriah and the rest of the crew.
“Most of them,” Chris answers.
“Well, welcome to the Naval Postgraduate School of Monterey,” Devin answers. He looks powerful, strong and… loud. “I’m Lieutenant May, but you can call me Devin, Senator.” He winks at me. “We’re going to keep you safe and sound here for the Negotiations with the Pacific Northwest Alliance, and lucky for you, I’ve been assigned to make sure you find your way around the compound without getting lost.”
“I’ve spent too much time here to get lost,” Chris replies, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell my superior officer that,” Devin says. “It’s a need-to-know kind of thing, don’t you think?”
I laugh.
“Okay, let’s move this party inside,” Devin says, serious. “The building’s interior is a lot safer than out here.”
“This entire city is secure,” Sophia suddenly says. “Who’s going to hurt us inside the Naval compound?”
Devin gives her a look.
“You should know better, soldier,” he answers.
I can’t disagree with that.
As we turn away from the convoy, I notice for the first time the beautiful white barrack buildings on each side of us. It’s structured like a fortress. Two buildings on each side, and in the middle, a central edifice with white, Spanish-style pillars and steps. I like it already.
“How many times have you been here?” I ask Chris.
His mood seems to have temporarily lifted, thanks to Devin’s appearance.
“Many times,” he replies.
“That’s an understatement,” Devin cuts in. “Chris and I used to hang out at Cannery Row at night. Remember, man? Those were the days.”
Chris doesn’t answer.
“Man, when they told me you’d be coming here, I couldn’t believe it was you,” Devin continues. “I mean, I’d heard about your work with the militias, but I didn’t think I’d see you again. Since the invasion, the world’s been cut down. I never see people I used to know anymore.”
Tell me about it.
We keep walking through the open courtyard between the barracks.
“This big building in the center here is called Herrmann Hall,” Devin explains, falling into step with me. “It used to be called the Del Monte Hotel before the military took it over, and then it was the on-base lodging center for Navy families and visiting SEALS like me and your boyfriend here.” He shakes his head. “Since everything went down, we’ve been using it as Headquarters in addition to lodging.”
“Are any other representatives here yet?” I ask.
“Yeah, we’ve got the reps from Oregon and Washington here,” Devin replies. “We’re still waiting on Mexico. They should be here by tonight.” Then he asks, “You’re a little young to be a senator, aren’t you? What are you… seventeen? Eighteen?”