The Omega center in Squaw Valley is a giant warehouse. It’s small in comparison to the one I was imprisoned in, but it’s a good place for a small, fledgling fighting group like us to start.
Sophia gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before we separate into our platoons. There are four: Max, Alexander, Derek and Chris. Since my skillset is primarily marksmanship (my dad would never believe it), I’m with Chris’s group. He’s leading us around the front end of the warehouse. Sophia is with Alexander Ramos’s team since her talents are different than mine. Her platoon will round the back of the depot and focus on closer targets.
Each group is assigned a truck. I sit with Chris in the cab of ours, while the rest of our team piles into the back. My heart is racing. We’ve gone over our training a thousand times. I should be able to do this. But I’m still scared. No amount of training will ever change the fact that deep down, I’m just a teenage girl from LA who got kicked into a war zone.
Chris starts the engine and we take off, driving down the mountain roads. Luckily, the moon is bright tonight, making it easy to navigate the roads without headlights. We stick to bumpy back roads that cut behind the main highways — roads that are far away from the routine Omega patrols. The supply center we’re hitting is about an hour away from our camp, but it will take longer to get there since we have to go so slow to keep the engine noise down.
“Don’t drive fast or anything,” I mutter.
Chris simply smiles, but it’s a tight smile. Just because he’s a macho leader these days doesn’t mean he’s impervious to fear or nerves. I sometimes forget that he’s human, too. “We’ll be okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“I know.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road. “Maybe you should have stayed with my parents back at camp.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m fine.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m just as capable as any of the other recruits around here.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t capable or talented.” He sighs. “I just said I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
A heavy silence hangs between us for a few seconds.
“Cassie, I came too close to losing you before,” he says at last.
“Chris, you don’t have—”
“—Just hear me out.” He throws a glance in my direction. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this with me. If you feel like you’re not ready, or if you’d rather stay back at camp, you can tell me.”
I place my right hand around the car door handle.
“Believe me, I’d tell you,” I reply. “Don’t worry.”
I take a deep, steadying breath. Chris has every right to be cautious when it comes to me jumping headfirst into a battle. How many times have I almost died in the last few months? How many times has he had to save my sorry butt, too? Yeah, I can see his point. But I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding in the foothills. I have to do my part to stop Omega, and after being imprisoned — and almost executed — I feel a personal desire to take them out.
Call it revenge. Call it whatever you want to call it.
I’m obligated.
Chris doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive. We travel in silence, wrapped up in our own thoughts. The tension is thick. We finally arrive at our destination, a small clearing in the middle of the forest a few miles away from the supply depot. We need to be far enough away from the compound so we can sneak up on them without rumbling up in a bunch of trucks.
This will also be our primary rally point if something goes wrong.
“Let’s go,” Chris says.
I nod.
He catches my chin between his fingers, pressing a kiss against my lips.
“I…” He shakes his head. “Just be careful and stay close to me.”
“Will do.”
My heart twists a little in my chest.
We get out of the truck. We’re about a half a mile away from the supply center. Nobody speaks. Nobody breathes. We fall into our platoons like we planned, keeping everything silent and efficient.
I stay close to Chris’s shoulder as our platoon separates into the woods. The foothills are bright and beautiful in the moonlight, making it simple to navigate the path — but easier for Omega to see us coming if we’re not careful. In the distance, I spot the supply center. It’s an old warehouse surrounded by a parking lot. Omega trucks are parked there, and a big barbed wire fence has been erected around the perimeter. In the back, a cinderblock fence is lined with wiring around the top.
Looks familiar.
Troopers are guarding a few smaller buildings next to the main warehouse. That’s where they’re keeping the POWs. Chris crouches down and we all follow suit, lying prone, watching the buildings through the tall grass. Chris has his binoculars trained on the front entrance. The other three platoons are closing in on the warehouse, and pretty soon we’ll have it surrounded on all four sides.
“I really hope they don’t have satellite,” I whisper.
“Nobody has satellite surveillance anymore,” somebody says behind me.
“I’ll bet Omega does.”
I mean, why not? They’ve got working cars, don’t they? They’ve got generators. They might as well have their own satellite. Unfortunately, the thought that we could be watched from the sky is enough to make my nervousness skyrocket.
Relax. Breathe. Just stay calm.
I’m an idiot. I can never get my body to cooperate with me when I want it to. And right now, all I want it to do is relax. My hands are shaking and my shoulders are trembling. The cold temperature is just making it worse, too.
Chris takes my hand.
“Hey,” he whispers. “We got this.”
I force a smile.
And just a second ago I was the one calming his nerves.
In total silence, we move closer to the building. As we get closer, I can see that it used to be some sort of big repair shop, but Omega has, once again, commandeered something good and turned it into something bad. It makes me sick — and it reminds me why I’m here.
Just stay focused, I think. Don’t do anything stupid.
When we’re as close as we can get, we drop to into the prone position again. Our weapons are at the ready. I lay mine across a log to take the weight off my arm. It will help make my aim steadier. Our goal is to wait for Alexander’s team and Derek’s team to maneuver into place while Max and his men set up the fireworks.
A few minutes of tense silence pass before Chris finally says, “Now.” We can’t see the other platoons. We can only go by time — and hope that everybody does their job according to the plan. There are at least ten troopers standing guard on this side of the supply building. Two inside the fence, two outside the fence at the entrance, three around the warehouse itself and two more patrolling the front of the storage buildings being used to house prisoners. We’re close enough to see the white O stitched into their uniform sleeve. Close enough to hear their conversations.
Close enough to take them out.
Chris gives the signal for us to open fire by taking the first shot. It’s perfect. A trooper drops dead at the front entrance. As he does, our group starts firing from the cover of the grass and the trees, and more troopers fall. When Omega finally starts regrouping and hitting us with return fire, we drop into the grass. The other two platoons open fire, shooting at Omega from the opposite side. Omega scrambles to get it together, but it’s not happening. This goes on for a while. We trade off coordinated volleys until Omega’s numbers are significantly reduced. Shoot, drop, let the other side pummel Omega while we reload. Rise up again, shoot, drop. Rinse and repeat. Omega troopers keep falling. Our numbers remain the same.