Hours have passed since our meeting with Harry. The shock has worn off. It’s been replaced with near boredom as we wait for Omega to do something. Anything. It’s like waiting for lightning to strike the ground. When will they hit us next?
Night comes. There is no moon tonight, just clouds. It makes the hills darker and more difficult to navigate. I sit with my legs in front of me, eating MRE rations, meat and vegetables chemically heated in a bag. It tastes like mashed baby food. But I’m not complaining. This food is better than no food, even if I do have to eat it in the dark and feel for the contents like a blind person.
It’s been a long, restless day. I managed to get an hour or so of sleep, but my body was too wired for anything more than that. Harry’s words have replayed in my head over and over again:
“You will be responsible for the death of hundreds.”
I remind myself that he’s a professional liar, taking another bite of food. Forcing it down. Harry is just trying to get to us, specifically me. He spent enough time with me in the labor camp to know that I have difficulty engaging in warfare. Yes, it’s something I have to do. Yes, I realize that if I don’t fight, we’ll all die anyway, so I might as well go down swinging. But no, that doesn’t mean I’m an emotionless monster who wants unnecessary bloodshed.
Harry’s wrong. You’re not all going to die. He’s bluffing and you know it.
I finish off the rest of my food, toss it aside and take a long drink of water. I hear a distant whining, like the escalating ringing in my ears before my hearing popped back. I tilt my head up, a fat raindrop hitting my nose.
Oh, lovely. On top of everything else, it has to rain, too?
A smattering of cold droplets peppers my face, and the whining grows louder. In that moment realization smacks me upside the head.
“Did somebody order air support in here?” I ask, turning to Chris. “Chris?”
He’s kneeling on the ground, listening intently.
“Those aren’t our jets,” he says simply.
I jump to my feet, shouting this order as loud as I can.
“Take cover, take cover! They’re sending jets!!!”
Fear, raw and real, grabs me by the neck. I can’t breathe. Are we about to get bombed? Our air support has kept the skies clear for us so far. But what if a bogey or two got through? Just one could do some serious damage to our front lines.
Chris grabs my arm and drags me down the hillside, heading for lower ground. We’re too far into the interstate to take cover under the freeway. The road is at ground level, plus we’ve planted landmines all along the road. We duck into the low bushes, staying hidden under rocks and trees. The screaming of the incoming jets strike terror into my heart. I clutch Chris’s arm as he pulls me close. The rain is starting to fall harder, sticking my uniform to my skin. Uriah scrambles down next to us, while other members of our militia scatter throughout the hillside. The jets streak by overhead, sweeping through like dark birds.
Something drops from the first bird. It detonates upon impact, turning the grass into a smoldering mass of dirt and grass. Flames spring up despite the rain, giving everything a hellish aura. More weapons hit the earth. Every impact is like an earthquake. I can feel the expulsion of air on my lungs, each shockwave hitting me like a brick in the chest.
Chris holds me against him and I hang on for dear life, praying to God that one of those things won’t hit us. The barrage seems to go on for an eternity, never ceasing long enough for me to recover from each shockwave. The hills are alive with flames now, and the rain isn’t falling hard enough to put out the fire. At last the enemy jets stop their attack, and Chris’s grip on me eases a bit.
“Are they gone?” I ask.
“They’ll be back,” Uriah replies, his dark eyes glimmering with hatred. “But we’ve got our own birds, too. I’d suggest you radio Rivera and call in the Air Force.”
Chris nods.
I remain still, listening to the crackle of fire against the dry grass.
Please rain harder, I think. Put out this fire before…
Wait.
I pull back from Chris.
“Which way is the wind blowing?” I ask.
“Um…I don’t know. South?” Uriah says.
“We need to drive this fire towards the Chinese. Nothing can stop a wildfire.”
Chris fixes me with a surprised look, a smile spreading across his face.
“Cassie, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
“It’s the only idea I’ve had all day.”
He hits the radio and contacts Rivera.
“Rivera, this is Alpha One,” he says. “What’s your status?”
“We’re alive,” Rivera replies. “What’s your status?”
“My platoon is uninjured. Radio air support. Tell them to be ready to combat military aircraft.”
“Will do,” Rivera says, but he sounds shaken.
I grab my radio and contact Max’s platoon.
“This is Yankee, over,” I say.
Nothing but static. Chris tries on his radio. Uriah tries his, too. Nothing.
“Oh, my god,” I breathe. “Do you think they’re hurt?”
Chris sets his jaw.
“Possibly.”
Uriah shakes his head.
“No. No way am I leaving this position to check on another platoon,” he says. “If those jets come back while we’re on the move, we’ll be out in the open.”
“I’m not leaving them to die,” Chris snaps. “And I’m not asking you to come.”
“You’re not going without me,” I tell him.
He nods. No argument.
That’s new.
Uriah rolls his eyes.
“You care too much.” He holds out his hands. “But I get your point.”
What Uriah might not understand is that despite the fact that it’s dangerous to check up on Max’s platoon, it’s worth it. Max, Derek, Sophia and Jeff are the best soldiers we have. If we lose them, we’ll lose a lot of the militia’s morale. We can’t afford it. Plus, Chris has already lost Alexander this week. He doesn’t want to lose anybody else. Neither do I.
Chris turns to a young man staked out behind us. I don’t remember his name. Andrew, I think. I don’t know.
“You’re in charge until I get back,” Chris says.
The kid stares at Chris with an expression of shock, then nods.
“Yes, sir,” he says.
Chris doesn’t hesitate in moving forward. I dart behind his shoulder, Uriah on my tail. We move through the grass, feet sinking into mud. My brilliant plan of driving a fire towards Omega won’t do much good if the rainfall continues to get heavier. Max and his platoon are four hundred yards from our position, and the rain and darkness make it even more difficult to navigate the rough terrain. All the while, Uriah anxiously listens for any signs of enemy aircraft.
As we approach their position, I stop dead in my tracks. Where Max and his platoon were hiding is nothing but a smoking, flaming crater. Horrified, I run forward and claw my way up the hill. “Sophia!” I scream. “Max! Derek! Jeff!”
Dead militiamen are lying in the mud, burnt and mutilated beyond recognition. I fall on my knees and cover my mouth, fighting the gag reflex.
“Cassidy!”
I look up. Sophia is running towards me. I pull myself up and throw my arms around her neck. She’s crying hysterically. “I barely missed it,” she chokes. “They dropped a freaking bomb on our heads.”
“Where are the others?”
“Here!” Jeff crawls out of the tall grass. Chris heaves a sigh of relief and pulls his brother into a fierce hug. Max is there, as well, but I don’t see Derek.