State of Rebellion (Collapse Series) (13 page)

“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.

But you know they are
, a little voice says.

I shake off the confidence issue and step away from the corner of the building. “Let’s climb,” I say. And that’s when I realize that Alexander and Sophia are actually doing what
I
tell them. This is odd for two reasons. First, because Alexander is an officer, too. That technically makes us both Lieutenants. And second, because Alexander
always
assumes command of a situation. We’re both equally ranked. Sophia and Derek are sergeants, each in charge of units of eight men within their platoon.

Tonight Alexander’s being nice. Maybe it has something to do with Sophia. The two of them have been spending a lot of time together since we moved into the National Guard base in
Fresno. Could she be – dare I say it? – softening him up?

I smile at the thought.

Alexander is
not
the “softening up” type of guy.

I head over to a corner of the building, where two walls intersect near the rear exit. I use the windowsill and Alexander’s armored shoulder to boost myself up to the roof access hatch, pulling myself up. I crawl on the roof, keeping a low profile to avoid silhouetting against the skyline. I’m wearing a black and gray uniform. My face is streaked with camouflage grease. I lie prone near a rise in the roof and remove my rifle. It’s as sleek and shiny as a new car. I adjust my position as Sophia and Alexander move in beside me, scoping our sectors of fire.

We are snipers tonight.

The rest of my platoon is broken into four sections. Each section is led by a sergeant like Sophia. Alexander and I – we are lieutenants – oversee the platoon itself. They are the main assault force on the camp. Our job as snipers is to cover our men when all hell breaks loose and the National Guard raids the camp. Which, according to my calculations, should be any minute now. “I love these new weapons,” Sophia whispers. “But they’re not shiny. They’re dirty.”

I stifle a laugh.

“They’re not supposed to be shiny,” I explain. “They have a matte finish so they won’t reflect light and give our position away.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to have real equipment to work with.”

“Tell me about it.” I check my optics one more time, tweaking the settings slightly.
Waiting for the right moment. “They should be in position by now.”

Our forces are slowly surrounding the camp, and Chris has positioned snipers along the roof of the distribution center. We’ve got about a hundred troops with us tonight for this assaulting force– and that’s all we need. Surprise Omega, break the gates down, drive them back and let the prisoners out. We’re not necessarily here to provide food and shelter for the prisoners who escape. We’re just here to free them. The National Guard has supplies and first aid in place to administer help to the refugees, then we’ll be on our way.

I slide my radio off my belt, running my thumb over the hard surface of the equipment. Technology like this almost seems like magic
after living without it for so long. I push the transmit button.

“This is Yankee One. Condition green,” I say quietly.

“Alpha One, copy that.” Chris’s voice. “Standby, Yankee.”

“This is so cool,” I grin.

Sophia chuckles.

“I know, right?”

“This is how things are
supposed
to be,” Alexander mutters.

My adrenaline isn’t pumping yet. I’m strangely calm. If anything, I’ve been
dying
to get out of Sector 20 and go on a mission. It feels good to be outside.

A bright white light suddenly flashes in front of me. I tense and shield my eyes, trying to figure out where the light is coming from.
Because when you’re cloaked in total darkness, a sudden light source is the last thing you expect.

I lean my head to the left, staring at Sophia. A horrified expression crosses her face, and in her hand is a slim flashlight. She fumbles with it for a moment, her fingers shaking. The light flicks off, and in that moment somebody patrolling the outside of the fence looks up. He shouts. Two or three figures raise their weapons and open fire on the front of Carl’s Jr.

It happens
that
fast.

Any glass that’s left in the windows below shatter.

We’ve been compromised.

Heart racing, I grab my radio and contact Chris. The gunfire is ridiculously loud, making it almost impossible to hear anything on the radio.

“Alpha One,” I shout, “our position has been compromised!”

“What do we do?” Sophia yells.

“Standby and stay hidden!”

The radio crackles to life. I have to shove it up against my ear to hear Chris’s response. “Leave your position, Yankee,” Chris says. “Regroup and pull back.”

I tuck my rifle close to my chest and slide down the slope in the roof, stopping in a crouch near the gutter. “Come on, move it!” I shout to Sophia over the din of the gunfire. I swing myself off the roof, landing on the sidewalk. Sophia and Alexander quickly do the same. We round the backside of the building. By this time I’m furious.

“What is
wrong
with you?” I demand. “Why did you turn on a
flashlight
?!”

“It was an accident!” Sophia replies, on the verge of tears. “I’m not used to the new equipment.”

“Well,
get
used to it,” I snap. “That almost got us killed. And the mission has been compromised.”

I’m surprised at the venom in my voice. I’ve never gotten angry with Sophia before. Then again, I’ve never been in a situation like this before. My radio crackles.

“Yankee, what the hell is going on over there?” Chris asks.

“Our position has been compromised, over,” I repeat. “We need to abort.”

“Negative, Yankee. Proceed with the plan.”

“But…” I slam the radio back into its holster, knowing better than to argue over the radio. “Come on, guys! Let’s go.”

Alexander looks pleased with my command. We fall back from the building, making a dash across the street towards another abandoned business. This one is a former sushi house. From the roof of the distribution center, Chris’s sniper platoon opens fire. Because the Omega patrols are busy trying to figure out where
we
are, they’re taken completely by surprise by the sudden attack. Explosions detonate along the fence line, compliments of Max and Derek. A huge blast destroys the main gate. It’s the same old same old. The sound of warfare. The shriek of gunfire. The screaming, the panic. The taste of gunpowder in the air.

I use the gutter on the side of the sushi restaurant to haul myself up. I climb onto the roof, staking out in the corner. This is farther away than I’d like to be, but I’ll take what I can get. I lie down on my stomach, tuck my rifle against my shoulder and peek through the scope. Fire has erupted on the east side of the camp. Omega is switching on their generator-powered backup lights. It makes it easy for me to sight enemies, tracking them through my scope. Chris’s team of snipers is so well concealed that I can’t even see them from my vantage point on the roof.

Of course, he can’t see us, either.

As long as Sophia doesn’t turn on a spotlight again, we should be good.

Our National Guardsmen assaulters rush the blasted ruins of the front gate. It doesn’t take
much for them to push through, since there’s not a lot of security and we’ve already taken them by surprise. The prisoners, taking advantage of the distraction, begin flooding out of the camp. I cover their escape, sniping any Omega soldier that starts shooting at them. Sophia and Alexander are doing the same thing, but I can tell that Sophia is rattled. Her mistake with the flashlight has shaken her up.

I’ll have to talk with her later.

Her hands are trembling on her weapon, and the color has drained from her face. She’s not merely scared – she’s embarrassed. I feel a pang of regret for yelling at her, then remember that it’s my job to keep my men disciplined. I can’t feel bad for doing something that keeps us alive a little longer than the bad guys.

One of Max’s detonations lights up the night sky no more than a hundred yards away from us. The force of the explosion is like a physical wall of heat. It slams into the sushi restaurant and washes over our heads. I duck down and cover my scalp with my hand instinctively, the heat singeing the tips of my hair.

Lucky I’m wearing a hat.

The flames lick at the edges of plastic bins and piles of trash, lighting trails along spilled gasoline and diesel. It doesn’t wander further than the edges of the parking lot, though. There’s not a lot to burn around here.

I hear a thud behind me and spin around, grabbing my handgun on my belt. An improvising – and unusually clever – Omega soldier has climbed up on the roof behind us.
He’s got his weapon out, ready to kill the first person he sees. Which would be me, obviously.

I nail him in the chest. An unhesitating reaction – pure instinct now. But I quickly realize that I’ve made a mistake. He’s wearing a vest, and although the impact of the shot knocks him backwards, the bullet doesn’t penetrate the vest. I stay crouched, shoot again. This time I shoot at a slight angle, right in the weak spot: the armpit. A bulletproof vest can only cover so much.

It’s a clean shot. A perfect shot. He drops dead, the bullet probably cutting right through his heart, into his lungs. I swallow a gag. Killing people – regardless of whether or not they are enemy soldiers here to kill
me
– is difficult for me. Especially when I can see the look on their faces as they die. When I am a sniper, I’m killing from a distance. It sounds horrific – and it
is
–
but I’m not as traumatized when the job is done in a detached way. It helps separate me from the death.

But up close there’s no escape. These are the faces I see when I sleep at night.

Well.
Try
to sleep.

Within minutes the prisoners are free and the Omega troops are either dead or wounded – or fled. Some of them ran away during the firefight. I climb down from the roof and approach the camp. Everything happened in a mad rush. A
contained
rush, but a rush nonetheless. Bloodstains and black smudge marks line the pavement. Sophia says nothing. Neither does Alexander.

I do a headcount of the men in my platoon. Everybody here? Good. I didn’t lose a single soldier. Great news, especially since it’s
my first mission as a Lieutenant. A tall, lean young man with cropped black hair is standing at the back of my platoon. I don’t know his name. He’s holding his left arm, his hand covered in blood. Concerned, I walk up to him.

“What’s your name, soldier?” I ask.

“Andrew, Ma’am,” he replies, grimacing.

I look around for a field medic. They’re occupied with other soldiers that are more badly hurt. I roll up Andrew’s shirtsleeve. He’s been shot through the arm – looks like a clean wound, though. In and out. A flesh wound.

“
You
are a very lucky guy,” I murmur. “This didn’t even scrap bone.”

“If you say so, Ma’am,” he replies.

I flip my knife out of the pocket in my boot and cut away a strip of cloth at the bottom of my black undershirt. I’ve got a tiny emergency
first aid kit on a pack nestled snugly on my back. I whip it around, unzip it, and open up some alcohol wipes. I swab the wound. He winces but doesn’t complain. I wrap his arm in clean bandages, tie the strip of cloth around that, and nod.

“You’re good to go,” I say. “Check in with the Medical Staff when we get to base.”

He smiles. It’s a kind, sweet smile.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he replies. “For everything.”

I’ve never known what to do with gratitude, so I just remain silent, zip up my little packet and sling it across my back. And I leave. I gather my platoon into one spot and watch as Chris approaches me through the crowd. He’s flushed. He’s
mad
.

“What was that?” he demands. He’s wearing black combat gear, a captured weapon in one arm, held at the ready. “Who gave your position away?”

“It was my fault,” I say, swallowing a sick feeling in my stomach. Why am I taking the blame for this?

Because that’s what a good leader does
, I think.
They take responsibility.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Chris gives me a long, hard look.

“Don’t let it happen again,” he states. He glances at Sophia’s face, then back at me. Perhaps he knows the truth. “We’re returning to base.”

I nod.

“Nice recovery, though.” Derek shows up, covered in ash and sweat. His short blonde hair
is hidden beneath a black skullcap. “Not bad, Hart.”

“Thanks.” I gesture to the twisted mass of metal that used to be the gate around the camp. “You didn’t do too bad, either.”

“Ah, Max is the brains. I just plant the explosives.” He shrugs. “This was a lot easier than I thought it’d be.”

“Easy is a relative term,” Alexander replies.

“I mean, compared to the last time we engaged Omega.”

“We were betrayed and ambushed.”

“Exactly.” Derek smiles at me. “See you at base, Hart.”

“See you,” I say.

We head towards our just arriving truck convoy, on the other side of the distribution
center. It’s under the freeway. It’s been staged and waiting for our arrival. Vera is talking with Chris when I arrive, and he’s listening intently. I grind my teeth together and make a point of avoiding looking in her direction. She’s probably giving him a point-by-point recap of everything that happened to her platoon during the attack. I’m sure their execution was flawless.