“When?” Uriah asks.
“Just a few days ago.” Arlene points to the map. “Which is why so many of Omega’s forces retreated from the Valley Chokepoint, Commander Hart. Your instincts were correct.”
I run a hand through my hair.
“Does this mean Mexico is strong enough to actually help us win this thing?” I ask.
“I have no idea what Mexico’s situation is,” Arlene says. “But thank God for their help. There are rumors of forces attacking Omega in Washington and Oregon, as well.”
“Who would that be?” Andrew comments. He’s still fiddling with the radio, wires strung across his lap. “Mexico is in the south. Who’s up north?”
“Canada,” Uriah suggests.
“Are you saying that we’ve got allies?” I breathe.
“What’s she’s saying is that someone, out of self-preservation, is attacking Omega, too,” Manny interrupts. “Which means we’re not bearing the full weight of their attacks.”
Thank God.
Seriously.
“Which means it might provide the little bit of daylight you need to get your rescue unit into Los Angeles,” Arlene adds. “Omega is rolling south to defend their position in San Diego, and from what we’ve heard, they’ve got their hands full.”
A sign of weakness? A flood of hope rushes over me. Omega is struggling more than I thought they were.
Finally, some good news.
“We have transportation that will enable you to get into the city without being detected,” Arlene says. “Underground hotspots are everywhere. There is a Way House where you will meet scouts at the edge of Toluca Lake, not far outside of Westwood. They will give you the location of the facility where they are holding Commander Young.” She traces a circle around the ranch house on the map. “It’s about sixty miles from here to Westwood.”
“What’s a Way House?” Andrew asks, never looking up from his radio.
“A safe place for traveling militiamen to stay,” Arlene explains. “Manny will be your guide into the city, considering the mode of transportation that you’ll be taking.”
“Wait, hold it,” Derek says. “We’re not flying to Los Angeles. That’s impossible. Omega’s got aircraft everywhere.”
“I didn’t say we were flying,” Manny answers, leaning forward. He grabs a glass dish on the coffee table. It’s full of pine nuts. “Although I would prefer to fly.”
“Then how are we going in?” Vera demands, annoyed.
“You’ll see,” Manny says.
And he’s right.
We do.
Chapter Five
“Cassidy, listen to me,” Chris says. “If I die fighting, I want you to stay safe. Do you understand?”
“Everything’s going to be fine. It always is,” I reply, smiling faintly.
“Not this time.” He seems desperate to make me believe that this is the end. That we’re all going to die, and that I need to brace myself for it. “Cassie. I…need you to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself if I’m not here to help you. Make wise decisions. Do what I would do.”
“I’m not you,” I shrug. “And what’s with all the doom and gloom talk? You’re Mr. Motivation, remember?”
He grabs my shoulders. Presses a fierce, hot kiss to my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, stroking his cheek with my thumb. His heart is beating fast.
“What’s wrong, Chris?” I whisper. “This isn’t like you.”
I study his eyes. They’re tinged with red. From stress? From physical exhaustion? Probably a combination of both. But it’s unlike him to voice concerns like this out loud.
“I just need you to promise me that if I die,” he says, “you’ll go back to Camp Freedom. Find your father. He’ll protect you. Can you promise me that?”
“You’re not going to die,” I state firmly. “And neither am I.”
“Cassidy. Promise me.”
His gaze is intense.
I drop my eyes, studying the stitching on the collar of his uniform jacket.
“I can’t make a promise that I won’t keep,” I reply. “I can’t lie to you.”
He brushes his lips across my forehead, fingering my hair.
“Please,” he says. His voice breaks.
I close my eyes.
“I promise,” I say.
I hate breaking promises. I promised him that if he were to die on the battlefield, I would go back to the mountains and live with Dad. Fortunately, I’ve got a keen eye for loopholes. Chris didn’t die on the battlefield. He went missing in action.
There’s a difference.
So here I am, leading a rescue unit into Los Angeles.
Sorry, Chris. I love you too much to leave you in the hands of my enemies.
Even if it means breaking my promise?
Yes. Even then.
I’m sitting on the edge of the biggest couch in the living room of the ranch house. We are leaving tonight. It’s cold, drizzly and dark. I stare out the front window. I have barely been able to rest while I’ve been here. I’m anxious, on edge. Wondering where Chris is… if he’s alive… if he’s being interrogated. What if he’s being tortured?
I can’t even think about that.
I stand up and pace the length of the room, boots sinking into the soft carpet. The platoon is outside, getting ready. I’m waiting for my Lieutenants to meet me here. I need to speak to them privately before we leave this place.
Because when we leave… we might not be coming back.
Morbid, but true.
“What’s up, boss?” Derek asks as he saunters into the room, his rifle over his shoulder, pack on his back. “Bad news?”
“No,” I reply.
Uriah, Vera, and Andrew enter the room right behind him, geared up and ready to go.
“You’re going to need to travel as lightly as possible,” I say. “We’re not driving into Los Angeles, it’s too dangerous. And we can’t fly, either.”
“So how are we getting in, Hart?” Vera snaps. “We can’t just appear there.”
“I’ll show you,” I say.
We take a long hallway toward the back of the building, exiting into the backyard. Only this backyard is massive. An empty swimming pool fed by a natural spring is wedged between lavish landscaping — exotic shrubbery and marble water fountains.
“Geez Louise,” Derek says. “How rich was Arlene?”
“Very rich,” Manny replies. “Her family raised cattle for over a hundred years. Good salt-of-the-earth people.”
“How do you know her family?” I ask.
“We go back a long way. I’ll tell you the story sometime.”
“Fair enough.”
In the back of the property, the stables stand tall and proud. The building is beautiful, and once we enter the side door, I smell straw and livestock. It’s a comforting scent. One that reminds me of my time spent with Chris and his family last Christmas. Before their farm was burned to the ground.
The interior is glowing with lamplight. Beautiful horses snort and shake their heads in their stalls. Maybe they’re not used to having this many people in their living space.
Sorry, guys.
“Oh, my God…” Vera mutters. “Horses. We’re taking horses.”
“It’s the tactical edge we need,” Manny exclaims. “And fortunately for you, I know everything there is to know about horseback riding. You’re welcome.”