It’s not like we’ve got video games anymore.
But when I’m not in the Dugout watching the soldiers play games or read books, I’m keeping our men drilled. Since I was made a noncommissioned officer for the militia forces in the National Guard, I’ve got some authority now. It’s my job to make sure that the volunteer militia force is kept sharp and ready. This is what keeps me from going insane being stuck in an underground tin can with a thousand people.
We practice shooting, fighting and military maneuvers. Exercising and remaining fast and fit is an absolute must. I make sure everyone has equal time standing guard duty and running scouting missions day and night to keep an eye on potential Omega troop movements. Oddly enough, I consider myself kind of like Chris’s activities coordinator. I make sure things are running smoothly, that the men and women are healthy and capable, and that our soldiers are keeping their sanity within the confined living quarters.
And Chris? His job is to come up with the military strategies, enforce discipline, and fine-tune the militia’s skills. As the days pass I see him as less of a hardened, battle-worn Navy SEAL and more of a calm, steady leader.
I guess I’m not the only one who’s matured.
The National Guard has provided us with fresh clothing, weapons and ammunition. In fact, that is the best part of being here. We’re no longer working with salvaged equipment. We’ve got the best of the best.
On our seventh day staying in Sector 20, Chris takes me to one of the supply rooms on the base.
“This,” he says, “is all yours.”
I step into the room. Weapons and equipment are hanging from every nook and cranny. It’s a goldmine of war goodies. Chris, however, is holding up a single object. A rifle. It’s brand new, it’s sleek, and it’s awesome. He hands it to me.
It’s mine.
I curl my fingers around the weapon, the metal cool against my skin. I test the weight. Not too heavy. Just right for my size. A scope is mounted on top of the weapon.
“I’ve really needed one of these,” I say.
“You’re a great shot without optics,” he replies. “With it you’ll be unstoppable.” He hoists a backpack. “I packed this for you. It’s got a new uniform, supplies, equipment. Upgraded radio, night vision goggles.” He grins and pulls out a small handgun. “There are some nice toys in here, too. This one’s just your size.”
“You packed this for me?” I asked, touched. Because with all of the things he’s got to worry about, it’s beyond sweet that he would go to the trouble of getting supplies together for me. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He drapes one strap of the pack over my shoulder. “You’re really in the military now, Cassie. It suits you.”
“I don’t know.” I gaze up at his sure, handsome face. “Does it?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s not a lot of people that would adjust to this sort of lifestyle so well. You’ve got a gift.”
“I’ve got a great leader,” I reply, standing on my tiptoes. “You.”
He laughs softly, placing one hand on each side of my waist.
“Is that so?” he asks.
“Yes.” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Chris. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“It was hard leaving Dad behind.” I blink back tears. “After all I went through to find him again.”
“You did what you thought was right,” Chris says, pulling me close. “There’s nothing else you could do. I’m proud of you. You’re growing up fast.”
I smile against the fabric of his jacket.
“Growing up sucks.”
“Nah.” Chris pulls back to study my face, tracing the curve of my cheek with his thumb. “It’s not all bad.”
He kisses me then. It’s the first time I’ve really kissed him since we’ve been here. Since the ambush in Sanger. Since I got shot. Come to think of it, we haven’t had any real privacy since I escaped from the labor camp months ago.
I thread my fingers through his hair, melting into his strong embrace. He’s all around me, flooding my senses. Calming my fears. Being the steady rock I need him to be. “See?” he says, pressing his lips against my jaw. “It’s really not all bad.”
I raise an eyebrow, flushed.
“You have a point. Please continue.”
He laughs, and I feel it rumble deep in his chest.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says.
He’s right.
Growing up isn’t all that bad.
National Guard recruits are everywhere. There are a little over a thousand troops crammed into this hole in the ground, and every single one of them is here because they volunteered. And it’s not just men. There are plenty of women, too. Colonel Rivera has command over his men, and Chris maintains control of the militia groups. The two work together.
Because of this, Chris is considered an equal leader of the entire Central Valley California National Guard. I guess that makes him famous. Why shouldn’t it? Everyone is finally seeing him for the amazing leader he is.
For the record, I knew how great he was before everybody else did.
Just saying.
At any rate, the monotony of military base life is finally broken when Chris gives us the green light to go out on our first urban ambush. It’s going to be a lot different than what we did up in the mountains.
Our target?
An Omega emergency relief camp. I remember them well. They were relief camps set up for survivors of the EMP, but in actuality they were traps. Ways to concentrate the populace and carry out executions. Little more than modern day concentration camps.
This should be interesting.
How long has it been since I waited at a drive-through window for an order of French fries? Way too long. And right now, staring past the broken glass from inside a drive through window at Carl’s Jr., I’m getting an eerie sense of dejavu. The night is silent. Unlike the mountains, where the steady background of nature kept my nerves calm, there is nothing to hear in this urban environment except distant screams and gunshots. The earth hasn’t quite reclaimed what belongs to it. Concrete and steel structures still reign supreme.
I notice the sign at the corner of the window.
Thanks — come again soon!
I roll my eyes.
Sophia and Alexander are with me. I edge towards the door of the abandoned fast food restaurant, crouching in the shadows. The moon is shrouded with dark clouds, making it easier for us to hide, but harder for us to see the enemy. And they’re not far away. The enemy camp is located in the parking lot of a former Best Buy distribution center.
Cruel irony. The world ends and millions of dollars of technology just sits inside a giant warehouse, nothing but a pile of worthless pieces of wiring and blank screens. How sick is that?
The camp is surrounded by a chain link fence. There’s razor wire, heavy patrols, Omega vehicles and a large gathering of people inside the fence. It looks exactly like the last relief camp I saw a year ago in Bakersfield. Only this one is a lot smaller, and the civilians are emaciated. They hardly look human anymore.
“This isn’t going to be too bad,” I whisper. “I don’t even see any dead bodies.”
“Oh, boy. This is a good night,” Sophia snorts.
“Hey, you and I both know how bad these places get.”
She glances at Alexander. His expression is stony.
“We wait for the signal,” he says.
This is the first time I haven’t been with Chris for the duration of a mission. I’m always in his platoon, but I have separated myself from routine tonight. Why? Because I’m an officer now. I have new responsibilities. I have to lead. I can’t merely follow anymore. Or maybe I just want to be sure that I can function without him. That my talent and skills aren’t dependent on his presence.