“Costas?” I repeat, puzzled. “You mean Elle Costas? The bomb girl?”
“No. Manny Costas. You know.” O’Byrne musses up his hair. “Pilot? Crazy hair, long jacket?”
I nod.
“Yeah, I know him,” I reply, distant. “I’ve just… I didn’t know his last name until now.”
“I thought the two were related,” O’Byrne shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t put things together so well. This way, Commander. The city’s under attack, we don’t need to waste time with chit-chat.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I hate chit-chat.”
O’Byrne hops into an armored SUV. I get into the passenger seat.
“We’ll be there in just a few minutes,” he promises. I fasten my seatbelt. It is a habit I have forced myself to keep ever since I survived an IED bombing in a Humvee. Sometimes seatbelts save your life, in more ways than one.
“So how did you do it?” O’Byrne asks.
I watch the scenery flash by. The calm, collected military exterior of the city has vanished. It’s all gone, washed away. Our military forces are no longer in the center of the city — they’re on the coastline, combating Omega’s warships.
But do they know about the five-hundred troops hiding just twenty miles out of the city? Surely somebody must have spotted them!
“Do what?” I ask.
“Escape. I mean, I assume that’s what you did,” O’Byrne clarifies. “They found the remains of the Coast Guard cutter. Searched everywhere for your body. Couldn’t find you among the dead.” He shrugs. “They assumed you’d either sunk to the bottom or survived, somehow. Commander Young took a SEAL team into the bay and dived during a search.”
My chest tightens.
Oh, Chris. Doing everything he possibly could to bring me back.
This is why I love him. Well. One of many reasons, but still.
“I was rescued by a fisherman,” I say. “How random is that? His name was Jonas. He turned me into Omega for the reward, I guess. Who knows what Omega gave him in exchange for me.” I shake my head. “I got lucky, saw an opportunity to escape. I took it, and now I’m here. That’s really all there is to it.”
O’Byrne glances at the blood on my clothes.
I know what he is thinking: There is way more to the story than that.
He’s right, but I’m not in a storytelling mood.
We follow Del Monte Road and curve past the iron bars of the Naval Postgraduate School. We take it down to the harbor, but instead of going through the tunnel and onward toward Cannery Row or the Presidio, O’Byrne hangs a right into a parking lot. There are small fishing boats and yachts anchored in the bay here. Some of them have been pulled into the parking lot and ripped apart. Militia men and woman are busy, hard at work. No more than a mile away, a fire is blazing in Cannery Row.
“What are they doing to the boats?” I ask.
“The ballasts are made of lead,” O’Byrne says. “A couple of tons of lead, actually. It’s a great way to get bullets.”
“Are we that low on ammunition?” I ask, worried.
“We’re in a state of war,” O’Byrne replies. “And every little bit helps.”
What a great non-answer. He should be a politician.
O’Byrne halts the vehicle at the beginning of a walkway. The path leads to a pier, The Fisherman’s Wharf. It is a faded, rustic old tourist attraction. There are military vehicles gathered here, and lots of soldiers. Many of them are splattered with mud and blood, like myself. They look tired. Scared.
I can feel the tension in the air. It’s thick enough to cut with a knife.
I get out of the car.
“Cassidy!”
Chris is standing on the edge of the walkway, with Vera, Uriah, Andrew, Sophia, and Elle. I walk quickly, too tired to run, and throw my arms around his neck. He smells like seawater and gunpowder — an interesting combination, to say the least. He crushes me to his chest and pulls me into a long, lingering kiss. I am too relieved to be embarrassed or to care what anybody thinks.
“Chris,” I whisper. “We’re in trouble.”
“Thank God you’re alive,” he says. His eyes are red. It looks like he’s been… crying? No. Not Chris. Chris never cries. “You’ve been missing for two days, Cassidy. God, I can’t believe it.” He embraces me again, afraid to let me go. “Are you hurt? Is this your blood?”
“No,” I reply. “You have to listen to me, Chris.” I place my hand on the side of his cheek. “Harry Lydell is here. He’s planning a surprise attack from the north side of the city. The cruise missiles are a distraction. He wants to get inside Monterey.”
Chris’s face turns to stone.
“He’s here?” he asks.
“Yes. And he’s hell-bent on revenge and destruction.”
“Cassidy.” Uriah approaches from behind. I kiss Chris’s hand and embrace Uriah, happy to hug a familiar, friendly person. Uriah slightly shakes my shoulders. “We’re so glad you’re alive,” he says.
Judging by the flush in his cheeks, he’s almost as happy as Chris.
Andrew greets me. Vera does not smile. She doesn’t say a word. She merely squeezes my shoulder, and that is enough. Coming from her, that means something.
“Good to see you alive and well, Commander,” Elle grins, holding Bravo by the harness. “Thought you were a goner for sure.”
“Me too,” I smile.
I look at Sophia. Her expression is placid, cold. She nods, and I notice the tears in her eyes. “Sophia,” I begin, but she won’t look at me. I decide to drop it.
We are out of time.
There is a building near the wharf. It was previously a museum, used for housing relics of the past, like old lighthouse bulbs and sailcloth. The items are still inside the building, but they are covered in dust. It has been abandoned since the EMP, and we are meeting inside. We stand on the second floor. There are wide, open windows overlooking the bay. Omega’s warships are clearly visible on the horizon. Four tiny dots. Harbingers of destruction.
“We can’t stay on the shoreline,” I say. “They could send another cruise missile our way.”
“They could send a cruise missile anywhere,” Chris corrects. “And they’re close enough for guns, now.”
“So we have nowhere to escape to.”
“The Alliance has cruise missiles of its own.” Devin May climbs the stairs to the second story. I haven’t seen him since we met at the Aquarium. “We will retaliate if pushed too far.”
“It’s a distraction,” I say again. “Omega knows that most of our manpower and weaponry is hidden in the city, and they can’t get to that with a missile, because they don’t know where it is. The missiles are meant to draw us to the shoreline so that Harry can bring his troops in through the back door.”
Chris nods.
“Exactly,” he agrees. “I’ve notified every unit in the entire city, and they’re setting up a steel ring. The National Guard and the Army units here are rolling out every available man they have. Omega has ceased fire.”
“Why would they do that?” Vera demands.
“Because the Alliance is negotiating with Omega,” Devin responds. “They’re trying to avoid a slaughter.”
“I’m on the council,” I say. “I should be negotiating along with them.”
Besides. I thought we didn’t negotiate with Omega.
“You’re also a Commander,” Chris replies, “and you just survived a bombing and a hostage situation. You can’t be everywhere at once.”