Thick tension settles over the room. I turn around and look at Chris. He is staring at me, and then he tips his head in a slight nod. In the back, somebody starts clapping. It’s probably my dad. He would. It’s followed by more applause, and then the audience above our heads is standing up, and so are the rebel leaders in the room.
And I realize that they are clapping for me.
For all of us.
It seems to go on forever, until the applause is broken by the Speaker of the House.
“Well said, Commander Hart,” Lockwood speaks. “Unite or die. Freedom or enslavement. It is a harsh truth, but a truth nevertheless.”
“Hart is right,” Angela says. “We must stand united.”
“I agree,” a man in a Marine uniform says. “Liberty or death. The options are clear, and we have to make the choice to form a united front.”
There is a tumultuous bout of cheering and agreement from the civilians in the seats above. The officers in the Senate Chambers are lifting their fists into the air, shouting things like, “Liberty or death!” and “Hart is right, we need to join the Alliance!”
“The majority vote rules,” Lockwood says. “California will join the Alliance, and together, we will combine with the states of the west coast, as well as the countries of Mexico and Canada, in our stand against Omega’s invasion.”
More cheering. More raised fists. More backslapping. I have not moved from my standing position, and a feeling of sweet relief sweeps over me.
This is the right thing to do. I can feel it.
“California must have representation to the Alliance,” Lockwood continues. “As such, I propose that we appoint a senator to represent California’s interests in the negotiations with representatives from the Pacific Northwest Alliance: Washington, Oregon, Canada and Mexico.”
“We need someone who understands what we have been through,” Dad interjects. “Somebody who knows what’s at stake.”
“Where will these negotiations take place?” someone asks.
“That has yet to be determined,” Lockwood replies.
“Will we be negotiating between the states and countries — or will we also be negotiating with Omega?” Angela asks.
“Both,” Lockwood says. He is silent for a moment. And for some reason, I know what is going to happen before it does.
“Any nominations?” he asks.
“I nominate Cassidy Hart.” Angela stands at her desk. She does not look at me.
“I second that nomination,” Dad says.
Oh, God. No. Not me. Please.
Why did I have to open my mouth and talk?
“I support the nomination as well,” Chris says. He stands.
The room is a chorus of agreement. The majority of the rebel leaders — Colonel Rivera excluded — are on their feet, and the audience is in an excited frenzy. I feel ill. Overwhelmed.
Why me…?
People all around me are talking. There is noise, activity. The militia leaders and military officers are speaking to each other, and many of them are…smiling. They are happy. I look at Chris. He squeezes my shoulder. I can see pride in his eyes.
“The decision is unanimous, Commander Hart,” Lockwood booms. His voice is a blur in the background. “You have been nominated for the position of Interim State Senator to represent California in the Pacific Northwest Alliance.”
I am dazed. I stare at him, nodding vaguely. I feel myself move my head, and I know the instant that I do that I am committed on an entirely new level. This is bigger. This is different. This is new.
I scarcely believe it when I say, “I accept.”
Because the words have to be spoken.
“Thank you, Commander Hart,” he says. “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you: Senator Cassidy Hart of the Great State of California.”
More applause. I am burning up, flushed with energy and excitement and the realization that this is a good thing. We are building a stable, structured system with which to fight Omega. We are allying ourselves with strong countries and friends. We are pooling our resources. We are standing united.
Hope blossoms in my chest.
This truly is new.
Militia leaders that I have never seen before flood to my desk, shaking Chris’s hand and mine. Angela embraces me for the first time in…well, ever. My father walks through the crowd and I throw my arms around his neck.
“We made it,” I say.
“Yes,” he replies. “We did.” He smiles. “Senator.”
I shake my head. Chris gives me a gentle hug. He whispers softly,
“You did the right thing.”
I look at his face.
“I know,” I reply.
And it is not a lie.
The commotion inside the Senate Chambers exudes a positive, vibrant energy. These people are filled with hope. It is infectious, and it is the first time since the EMP hit Los Angeles that I have felt this much encouragement. It is a miracle. I find myself closing my eyes and saying a silent prayer of thanks.
We have come so far… and although we still have a long way to go, we have accomplished much. Chris and I leave the Senate Chambers, Dad and Angela following us. Colonel Rivera has been lost somewhere in the crowd, and that is fine with me. I am no longer afraid of his wrath. I did what needed to be done, and it was the right thing.
Vera, Alexander, Uriah, Andrew and Manny are waiting for us in the hallway.
“You’re crazy,” Vera states.
That is all she says, but there is a slight smile on her face. Slight. Uriah is grinning like a proud older brother, and Alexander seems almost at ease.
“Not bad, Cassidy,” Andrew comments.
“Well, Senator,” Manny exclaims. “The world awaits you.”
“So dramatic,” I laugh. “Thank you, Manny.”
“For…?”
“For everything.”
I am overcome with the solemnity of the fact that everyone around me — at some point or another — has played a part in all of us getting this far. Especially Manny.
“Shall we adjourn to the great outdoors?” Manny suggests, winking. “It’s a little stuffy in here. All these politicians.”
Chris chuckles.
“They’re hardly politicians,” he says.
“Let’s just get outside,” I agree.
We follow the hallways, descend the staircase and leave the Capitol Building. It is a beautiful day, and from where we stand on the front steps, we have a perfect view of the entire boulevard, ending with the yellow bridge that crosses the Sacramento River.
“Everything’s different now,” I say. Just loud enough for Chris to hear me. “It’s all going to change.”
“Change is a good thing,” Chris replies, touching my cheek.
We walk to the edge of the park, cross the street, and stop at a water fountain surrounded with rose bushes. One library building sits on each side of the fountain, graced with Greek marble statues.
I meet Chris’s gaze, and I feel the camaraderie of the people around me — Vera included. I wrap my fingers around Chris’s hand and look back at the Capitol. Maybe it represents more than just a meeting place. Maybe it represents the starting point of a new era. Of something better. Of recovery and strength and rebuilding.
“Let’s go home,” I say.
As the words pass my lips, a deep, jarring rumble breaks the silence of the quiet Capitol grounds. It is a sound and a feeling that I am all too familiar with. The windows near the corner of the Capitol Building shatter, sending shards of glass through the air. I am knocked off my feet. I hit the ground on my knees. Chris grabs my arm and we crouch on the cement, behind the fountain and the roses. Billows of ash and dust rise from the base of the stately structure. There is screaming in the distance. Somewhere, a siren wails.