The man is dressed in sandy combat fatigues and a leather jacket. His jet-black hair is shaggy and overgrown. I blink, recognition dawning on me.

“Oh, my God,” I say. “Alexander Ramos.”

I don’t even think about what I do next. I cross the distance between Alexander and I. I throw my arms around his neck and give him a tight, relieved hug. He doesn’t return the hug — but he doesn’t shove me away, either. I take that as a fairly positive sign.

“How is this possible?” I whisper.

Alexander Ramos is supposed to be dead. Yet here he is, alive. “Ramos?” Derek grabs his hand. “What happened, man? What are you doing in Toluca Lake?”

“We thought you were dead,” Vera states matter-of-factly.

“Technically, you are,” Manny mutters.

“Long story,” Alexander replies gruffly. He’s purely non-emotional about the reunion. Unsurprising. He was never the touchy-feely type. But I can bet that if Sophia Rodriguez had known that we would find Alexander on this mission, she would have come with us.

“Are you supposed to be our Underground contact?” Andrew asks.

“I am,” Alexander confirms.

“Who’s the dead guy on the bench, then?”

“He was your contact.” Alexander looks right at me. “He didn’t come back to base, so they sent me out.”

I exhale. Yet another man dies this day.

Suck it up, girl.

“We should get moving, then,” I say. “We’ve had enough run-ins with gangs and mercenaries on the way here.”

“Mount up,” Alexander commands. “Cassidy, I’ll ride with you.”

I pull myself onto Katana’s saddle. She snorts softly. He swings into the saddle behind me, keeping an arm around my waist. Six months ago I would have thought this was awkward. Now it’s just standard procedure.

“Go that way,” Alexander points, gesturing to a boulevard that shoots through a once prestigious neighborhood of mansions and apartment complexes. “We’ll go about two miles before we hit the Way House.”

I tap Katana’s flanks with my boots and she trots forward. Considering the long journey she’s been on — that all the horses have been on — she’s holding up well. But she’s tired.

“So are you going to tell us how you’re still alive?” I ask. “Or are you going to keep it a secret?”

“It’s a secret,” he answers. “For now.”

“Oh, come on, Ramos…we’ve had a long trip. At least give us a hint.”

If he’s smiling, I can’t see it.

“Later,” is all he says. But I do notice that he searches the platoon several times. He’s looking for Sophia, I guess. And when he doesn’t find her, he asks, “Where’s Rodriguez?”

I answer, “She didn’t come.”

He doesn’t seem to believe me. “She always comes,” he says.

“Well…she didn’t come this time.”

“Why not?”

“She’s dealing with issues.”

“She’s a basket case,” Vera comments.

I shoot her a look. She shrugs.

“What happened that I don’t know about?” Alexander asks.

I pause for a few moments. Then, “Jeff is dead.”

“What?”

“And so is Max.”

Alexander says nothing. After a few moments of heavy silence he says,

“And Commander Young…do we know for sure that he’s alive?”

“No. But that’s why we’re here.”

“It could be a fool’s errand.”

“It could be.”

“Let me guess: the rescue unit was your idea.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“Yes,” I say. “But they volunteered.”

“And you’re in charge?”

“I was elected.”

He grumbles something that I can’t hear.

“How’s that working out for you?” he asks.

“It is what it is,” I reply.

We ride about two miles up the road, coming to an oversized lot closed in with a stone security wall and thick shrubbery. It’s impossible to see what’s inside. The front gate rolls open as we approach.

Obviously somebody has been watching and waiting for us.

We take the horses inside, coming to a halt on a huge cobblestone driveway. A Spanish-style mansion is surrounded by bushes and trees. Soldiers are milling around the front yard. They approach us and take the reins of the horses. Alexander dismounts and I follow suit, keeping Katana with me.

“This is a Way House, huh?” I say. “Nice.”

“It belonged to Jay Leno at one time, so I’ve been told,” Alexander remarks. “But that’s just a rumor.” He pats Katana’s flank. “Good horse.”

“How many men did you start with, Cassidy?” he asks.

I look at my platoon, weathered and beaten by the stress of the journey.

“Thirty,” I say.

“You’ve got twenty-six, now.” He tilts his head. “Not bad, Hart.”

I don’t agree. Losing just a single person is losing one too many.

“It wasn’t easy getting here,” I state. “Between mercenaries and Mad Monk Territory, we’re lucky.”

“The Mad Monks are leftover remnants of mercenaries that betrayed Omega after the first attack on San Diego,” Alexander says. “Surprisingly, they’ve become good allies of the militias.”

“Wait. The attack on San Diego?” I reply. “Are you talking about the attack by Mexico on Omega?”

He nods. “Yes. A number of their forces…defected.”

“Why?”

“Why do any men defect?”

“Because they’re cowards,” Vera interjects, folding her arms across her chest.

“Or because they know something that the leaders don’t,” I murmur. “Or they’re in it for the money and the power. What do you know about Mexico, Alexander? Are they on our side?”

“There’s a lot that’s unclear right now. All we know is that Omega tried to push into Northern Mexico and Mexican forces pushed them right out. Clear into San Diego.”

“Is San Diego out of Omega’s hands?” I ask.

Alexander shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he replies. “Our radio hasn’t been working. The last news we received was a week ago, and that was the message telling us that you would be headed this way.”

Darn. It seems like everyone is in the dark about the Mexico question.

“These people will take care of the horses,” Alexander says. “They’ll be waiting for you when you come back.”

I slowly pet Katana’s nose. Her big, brown eyes study my face. “I’ll see you again,” I promise. “This isn’t goodbye.”

It feels like goodbye, though.

Someone takes her reins and leads her away from me.

“What now?” I ask.

“You come inside,” he replies, “and we give you what you’ll need to get Chris home.”

A spark of hope ignites in my chest.

Remember why you’re here, I remind myself. Stay focused on the objective.

I look up at the mansion.

Step one, completed. Beginning step two.

Harry Lydell.

I stare at a picture of his smug mug. Alexander is sitting on a stool in an empty dining room. A projector powered by backup generators is giving everyone a peek of what we’re getting ourselves into. And for most of the people here, knowing our enemy is step one.

My rescue unit has been fed and cleaned up in the last couple of hours. Uriah was treated by certified medics. Thanks to the medication and equipment on hand here, he’s no longer in pain from the bruising he took at the hands of the Mad Monks’ initial ambush. The horses are being kept in a makeshift stable behind the house. Militiamen and women patrol the perimeter 24/7, and roving scouts constantly circle the area, keeping an eye out for unfriendly forces.

My team is sitting on the floor. I lean against the back wall, glaring daggers at Harry Lydell’s image.

“Lydell is an Omega Prefect,” Alexander says. “This basically makes him a General.”

An award for selling the militia out to Omega.

“He oversees negotiations for Omega,” he continues. “The parley between Lydell and Commander Young was one of many duties that he performs.”

“Harry said he was working for someone named Commander Cho,” I say.