State of Chaos (Collapse Series) (20 page)

“You got it, sir.”

“Let’s move out,” Chris says.

We proceed into the field, skirting the edges and staying under cover as we approach the depot. The thick silence of the night isn’t doing anything to make me feel better about this situation. I look back over my shoulder, but it’s impossible to see Derek or the rest of our groups. They’re camouflaged too well.

As we get close to the depot, I study the surroundings. Tire tracks crisscross the dirt parking lot. Electrical machinery that was killed by the EMP is piled outside the main building in a large heap. Chris signals a few of the men and they round the edges of the main building, climbing up the side. We wait in the shadows, listening and watching for signs of danger.

One of the men pulls himself up to a window. He takes a quick look around and starts climbing back down to the ground. He jogs towards us along with the other men.

“Well?” Chris asks.

“It’s empty.”

“
What
?”

“Totally empty. There’s nothing in there, man.”

I bite my lip, alarm spiking through me.

“We need to get out of here,” I say.

Chris doesn’t disagree, but he doesn’t say anything either.

“How could they…?” He trails off, lost in his own thoughts. A terrified scream rips through the air at that moment. A woman’s
scream – one of our own. We instinctively drop to the ground and focus our sights across the field. Something’s happening. I hear voices and gunfire and then, I turn my head. Because I’m pressed against the ground, I have a great view of the underside of the Omega trucks parked on the property. My eyes settle on a blinking black package attached to the bottom of the bumper of one of the vehicles.

“Oh, my god,” I breathe. “It’s a bomb.”

Chris snaps his gaze in my direction, realization hitting us at the same time.

“Run!” he yells.

A simple command, but universal. We jump up and book it just as the first bomb detonates. I’m running, so the explosion hits me like a brick wall. I feel the impact slam into my back and send me flying forward several feet. I skid on my stomach and roll over a few times, scraping against dirt and rocks. Metallic tasting blood pools in my mouth. I must have bit my tongue.

I scramble to my feet, only to fall back down again, dizzy and disoriented. My ears are
ringing. Chris grabs my arm and helps me find my balance. I look back over my shoulder and gasp. Three or four of the militiamen in our group are lying motionless on the ground about thirty feet behind us. The Omega truck that exploded is nothing more than a hulking mass of smoking, twisted metal. I’m vaguely aware of rapid gunfire in the background, but my ringing ears make it difficult to gauge the distance of the weapons.

Chris drags me into the tall grass and suddenly the entire area is alive with lights and movement. Another Omega vehicle detonates on the edge of the property, sending shockwaves through the field. Luckily, none of our men are close enough to it to be killed, but Max’s group is probably more than a little bit singed.

Omega troops swarm out of the wooded areas bordering the fields, either drawing our men out in the open or pushing them back into the hills. Both are bad. I don’t even have time to take aim and shoot. All I can do is run.

Because we’ve walked right into a trap.

I spot Derek’s group going head to head with an Omega patrol. Men and women are knocked to the ground. Shot, knifed, kicked, smashed, punched. The end product is always death. The adrenaline rush I’ve been expecting finally hits me, but it’s tainted with horror. All around me our soldiers are being slaughtered. Omega troopers are boxing us in from all sides. They were waiting for us. Watching us as we approached the building.

How could they have known we were coming tonight?

There’s a spy in your camp,
my gut tells me.

I crawl through the grass, following Chris’s lead. We need to reach cover, otherwise we’re going to die. Period. We finally get to Derek’s group, but the only cover we have here is the tall grass.

These open fields are lethal.

I take out my gun, but I don’t even have time to use it. An Omega trooper fires at me from twenty feet away, but I see him moving. I duck out of the way and hit the ground, bringing the
gun into my shoulder. Powered with superhuman levels of adrenaline and desperation, I sight him, squeeze the trigger, and take him out. Just like that.

I stay right there on the ground, hidden in the shadows, taking out as many troopers as I can until it’s impossible for me to stay in the same place anymore. One of our militiamen accidentally steps on my back, leaving a muddy footprint on the rear panel of my jacket. Yeah. Time to move and stick to maneuvers I know inside and out: Shoot, move and communicate.

Chris is fighting next to Max. Both of them are using every weapon at their disposal, everything from guns to their fists. But Omega keeps coming. They continue to swarm out of the hills like grasshoppers. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen some pretty scary stuff since the EMP went down. Sophia literally crashes into me, running at full speed out of the woods. We both tumble to the ground and I look up, my eyes landing on her pursuer, an Omega trooper. I spring to my feet, knock his rifle sideways and kick him hard in the gut. He
bends forward, the air rushing out of his lungs. I slam the stock of my rifle across his head and he rolls to the ground, scrambling awkwardly for his weapon. I don’t mess around. This is life or death. I take my rifle, squeeze the trigger and land a close range shot to his chest. He’s so close to me that I actually feel a spray of hot blood splatter across my cheeks as he falls backwards, dead on the ground.

Sophia grabs my arm.

“I can’t find Alexander,” she says, covered in sweat. “I think he’s hurt.”

I meet her gaze.

“Are you serious?”

“Retreat!” Max yells. “Fall back! Rally point One!”

That’s just another way of saying, “We’re screwed. Run for your lives.”

But there’s nowhere to retreat. Omega’s got us surrounded. We’re closed in on all sides. The militiamen that have been pushed back to the supply depot are being caught in the land mines and IEDs set up by the Omega troopers. A few militiamen find themselves cornered against
the warehouse. One sweep of an automatic weapon is all it takes to kill all of them in less than three seconds.

Just when I think things can’t get any worse, I’m blinded with white light. Sophia and I shield our faces, confused. What the heck is this? A UFO invasion? Are aliens finally taking over the planet?

I wouldn’t be surprised. Please, take it. There’s not much left.

My eyes adjust and I focus in on the source of the light. Floodlights. Omega is firing up their backup generators and powering floodlights on top of the depot, shooting the beams of light into the fields. Making it easier for them to pick us off. My heart sticks in my throat.

We really
are
dead.

But wait. I spot a familiar figure standing on the edge of the depot. A flash of dark hair. A tall, muscular frame. He’s kneeling on the ground. Alexander Ramos. He’s watching the proceedings as blood runs down the side of his neck. He’s wounded. Badly. I find myself moving towards him, stopping only to look back and
make sure Chris and Sophia are still alive. They are, and they’re putting up a valiant fight, but a wall of Omega troopers are pushing our militia farther and farther back. There won’t be any escape once they reach that point.

I stop and stare at Alexander. He looks at me. We don’t say anything. A brief thought flashes through my head:
He’s a good soldier. He’s just a little rough around the edges.
He looks at me like I’m the most annoying thing on planet earth – which is debatable, given the situation – and shakes his head. “Get
out
of here,” he hisses, clutching his shoulder. Blood is oozing down his shirt. “Now.”

“Let me help you,” I stutter, shocked at his appearance.

“Just
keep moving
,” he commands, wincing. And then, “Please.”

I don’t hesitate.

As I’m working my way across the field, I see someone else. Harry Lydell. He’s standing motionless next to an Omega vehicle on the other side of the property, a safe distance away from the battlefield. He’s unarmed, watching
everything with catlike curiosity, and something about that
really
bothers me. I stalk towards him, my weapon raised.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“You really are stupid,” he says, pronouncing every word like it’s part of a British play. He’s staring down the barrel of my rifle. “You walked right into this.”

“
You
?” I gape at him. “You betrayed us?”

“Cassidy, I was never with you in the first place.” His eyes shift to the right and then snap back to me. “I’ve been with Omega the whole time. Since day one.”

“But the militia gave you your freedom,” I say, shocked. “They saved you from Omega.”

“No. Omega gave me my freedom. I’ve been spying on you since that first day I started working with you in the fields.” A twisted smile crawls across his face. “When I was
liberated
by the militia, it made things difficult. It took a long time to get back in contact with my commander.”

“You’re really disgusting, you know that?” I spit.

“Oh, I know. Don’t flatter me, Cassidy.”

“You do realize I’m pointing a gun at your head, right?”

“You won’t kill me.” He chuckles. “You have trouble killing people you have a relationship with.”

“My relationship with you is non-existent. You know what? Maybe I’ll save everybody the trouble-”

I never get to finish my sentence, which is sad, because I was just getting to the best part. Something knocks me sideways and I hit the ground with an unattractive thud. A fiery pain explodes just below my ribcage. I look down and press my hand against my side. I lift my hand up, horrified to see my palm dripping in blood.

I’ve been shot.

I kneel on the ground, too scared for the pain to sink in…yet. Harry stands there and observes me. Like a specimen in a cage. He takes a few steps forward and grabs my rifle before I can even think to react, effectively disarming me. I tilt my head up, clutching my stomach, focusing in on a pair of knee-high leather boots. I follow
the boots up to a pair of dark pants, a jacket and a familiar face.

“Kamaneva,” I state, trembling.

She doesn’t say anything. She only raises an eyebrow, casually holding the gun in her hand that just landed a whopper to my side. There’s too much going on around me for the realization of all that’s happened to really hit home. I’m frozen. You could wrap me up in a blanket and throw me in a freezer and I’d be oblivious to it. I can’t move.

“Well done, Harry,” Kamaneva says, her voice emotionless. “As for you, Cassidy: Nice try.”

If I could feel my stomach, I’m sure it would be churning with anxiety right about now. But the bottom half of my body is going numb, and with it, so is my brain. Everything’s getting fuzzy. Not even my adrenaline rush is going to keep me awake for long.

Or alive.

Desperation sets in. Kamaneva is trying to kill me…
again
. I slowly move my bloody, sweaty hand towards my belt, leaning forward enough to hide the movement. “They’re all as good as
dead,” Harry says, looking at Kamaneva. “They’re completely boxed in.”

“You of all people should know that our militia can get out of this,” I reply, gritting my teeth. The pain train is pulling into the station. “You’ve seen us fight before.”

“Actually, I haven’t. I was always left behind at camp. Nobody trusted me.” He flashes a wicked smile. “Rightfully so.”

“Traitor.”

Yeah. That’s the worst insult I can dream up right now. Because Kamaneva’s going to blow my brains out in about five seconds and I have to move fast. I close my fingers around the hilt of Jeff’s knife hidden in my boot, pull it out of its sheath, and snap it forward, flinging it at Kamaneva’s chest. She deftly steps aside and it grazes her arm. It gives me the split second I need to make my move. I jump up and make a mad dash back towards the battlefield. Back towards Chris. I run in a zig-zag pattern, throwing off Kamaneva’s shots. I can barely hold myself upright, because when I do, the world starts spinning and I begin losing my balance. I’m
guessing that has something to do with the shock of a bullet entering my body. To say nothing of rapid blood loss.

This is not my best day. Or night.

“Chris!” I shout.

Our militiamen are actually pushing back against the Omega troops, forcing them towards the center of the field, cutting a hole in their lines. It’s turned into an all out bloodbath. Soldiers are fighting hand to hand, tackling each other, jamming knives into each other’s throats. I turn away from the gut-wrenching scene and find Chris in the thick of the battlefield. There’s no way he can see me.

I make a desperate attempt to find cover, lunging behind an overturned vehicle. There’s not much left of it besides a charred frame and some twisted metal, but it’ll do. Kamaneva is still behind me, and I’m not in the mood to come face to face with one of her guns again. The third time is
so
not the charm.

I crawl on my hands and knees, bullets hitting the metal on some of the cars, zipping just over my head. I scramble to the other side of the
car and claw my way into the tall grass, blinking back tears of pain. My body feels like it’s on fire, which can’t be a good sign. I stumble upon a dead Omega soldier. His handgun is lying next to him. I pick it up and manage to climb to my feet, staggering far enough into the field to take cover behind a tree, pressing my back against the trunk. I spot Kamaneva. She’s no more than thirty feet away, trying to figure out a way to get to me without putting herself in the direct line of the fire from the battleground.

She glares at me and starts firing in my direction. I shift my position and make sure the tree shields my entire body. I’m safe for now, but not forever. I look at the gun in my hand, wondering if there’s any ammo left in it. The battle is raging around me. An Omega trooper appears out of the grass and spots me. I react without thinking, snapping a round to his chest.