“I’m sorry, Cassie,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
I blink back tears and stare at the ground.
“It is what it is,” I state, hollow.
“If I could fix it—”
“—But you can’t.” I swallow a lump in my throat.
“Nobody can.”
I tighten the strap of my backpack and nod toward Uriah and Vera, standing in the corner of the train station. Andrew is waiting there as well, and Sophia has popped up, too.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Chris says nothing. He merely nods and studies my face. So I stay in front of him. I don’t want him to see the hot tears burning in my eyes. Not today. I’m the Senator now, and I have to maintain the appearance of being totally calm and in control.
To me, that is irony at its cruelest.
The back of the building opens to a sprawling parking lot. Across the lot there are loading platforms for the Amtrak trains, but the directional signs have been removed, replaced with National Guard instructions and warnings. There are old Amtrak cars on the track, painted muted shades of brown and green, blending with the earth. There are anti-aircraft guns mounted to a flatbed car and men with machine guns and RPGs.
“This locomotive survived the EMP?” I ask.
“Not entirely,” Andrew explains. “Most diesel engines are hybrids — a combination of electric and diesel — and this one wasn’t any different. The National Guard retrofitted some of the locomotives to make them entirely diesel. This is one of them.”
The engine is a dull brown with dark green patches. By the time we reach the loading dock, the engine is roaring to life and the National Guard is busy assigning troops to the train.
“We’re in the middle car,” Chris says. “Your security detail will be spread out throughout the train.”
I nod, understanding.
My security detail is made up of Uriah, Andrew, Chris, Vera and almost two dozen other militiamen and women who have volunteered for this mission. It’s intense, knowing that all of the people here are risking their lives for this mission– but I know it’s not for me. It’s for the safekeeping of California as a whole. For the survival of our country.
If I think of it like that, I’ll be able to get through this, I tell myself.
The doors on the train open. I step up inside the train. The flooring and the walls are gray. The tables are gray. The seats are gray. In fact, everything looks gray.
“I don’t like the windows,” Vera comments.
The windows have been reduced to small gun ports with steel plates welded over them. The roofs of the train cars have been covered with sandbags and armed men. There is a rail car ahead on the track loaded with guns and soldiers. I peek through the small slit of a window and search the skies for Manny’s biplane. I can’t see him, but he is up there somewhere. Nearby.
“We’ll keep her away from the windows,” Chris replies.
Her, of course, means me.
“It’s all we have right now,” Chris offers, as if reading my mind.
I sigh. “Where should I sit?”
“In the corner.” Chris cracks a wry grin. There is a large table in the corner of the car, away from the windows. “Try to stay seated the whole time, if you can. The less movement there is, the less chance of anyone being able to see where you’re sitting.” He’s right.
I sit in the far seat in the corner, surrounded by more sandbags. There are papers and documents here, notebooks and pencils. Maps, outlines and mission rosters. I pick up a pencil and scan the items. I need to assemble my strategy for the negotiations, and the long train ride to Monterey is as good of a time as any.
“I want to get familiar with the layout of the train,” Andrew announces.
“You can do a recon,” Chris concedes. “Take the others with you.”
Andrew, Vera and Uriah slip out of the car, checking the other parts of the train. I stare at the emergency map on the wall, getting familiar without moving from my seat.
“I know what’s bothering you,” Chris begins as soon as we are alone. “And you need to understand that what happened in my past has nothing to do with you.”
I don’t remove my gaze from the wall. Hearing Chris talk about his past like it’s a secret, inaccessible thing makes me sick to my stomach. I’ve told him everything about me… he’s told me almost nothing about himself. I only know what I have seen.
“It has everything to do with me,” I say softly, “because I’m a part of you now.”
At this, Chris’s expression changes. He’s always so good at maintaining a poker face — never letting his true emotions shine through. But for a brief, surprising moment, he looks taken aback.
Completely surprised.
“Hey boss,” Uriah says, popping back into the car. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Chris composes himself immediately, and the flash of emotion is gone.
“Sure,” he replies. “Coming.”
I fold my hands in my lap, clenching my jaw. After a good half an hour of getting ready, the doors on the train car slide shut and the core members of my security detail return to the train car that I am sitting in.
I wonder, briefly, what the outcome of this mission will be.
Will we fail? Will we survive?
Will I do my job correctly?
Go with your gut, common sense tells me. Plan your goals and objectives just like you’re planning a mission. Just like Operation Angel Pursuit. Know the game, and you can win. Be strategic. Be tactical. Use that pure instinct that you have on the battlefield.
Pure instinct, eh? I’d be way more comfortable staked out on a roof with a rifle. It’s what I have become used to. It’s what has become routine. But this? This is a whole new ballgame.
A lot rides on me. I know that.
I just hope I can live up to California’s expectations.
Chapter Five
“How do you think the world will end, Dad?” I ask, sitting on the stool next to the kitchen counter. Dad is opening a jar of chili, halfway listening to my chatter. “Daaaaad. Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Cassie, I heard you.” Dad opens the can and smiles. “I don’t know.”
“I know.”
“Really? Care to share?”
I push back my curly red hair and lean over the counter. All ten years of my wisdom have accumulated to come up with this theory. “Aliens,” I say.
Dad busts up laughing.
“What?” I demand. “It could happen!”
Dad shakes his head.
“It could,” he replies. “But probably not. The end of the world will likely be significantly less dramatic than an alien invasion.”
“Then how do you think it will end?”
Dad musses my hair.
“I hope it never does, kiddo.”
The first hour of the train ride is slow. In order to leave the station, we have to cross a trestle that stretches across the Sacramento River. It’s huge, old and rusty. I don’t like the looks of it. We roll along. The train sways right and left, enough to make you sick — if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing.
“Cassidy?”
The connecting doors between the cars opens. Uriah steps inside. He immediately gauges the sitting positions of Chris and myself, then raises an eyebrow. I give him a look.
“Um… I thought you might want to meet someone,” Uriah says, turning his attention completely to me. “This is Elle Costas. She has the bomb dog.”