“I know,” I reply.

And that’s all I say. What else am I supposed to do?

I don’t want to lead him on. I won’t.

I jump over the ledge and climb back down the fire escape.

“Well?” Manny asks.

“There’s people,” I say. “A lot of them.”

“All survivors,” Andrew tells us. “But we can bypass them to get to the Holding Center. I think.”

“You think?” Vera snaps. “You’d better be sure. We can’t risk running into any more gangs.”

“Hey, I’m just going by Underground intelligence,” Andrew fires back. “It’s not my fault if we walk into a firefight.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” I interrupt, silencing them with a look. “We’re going to stick to the plan and keep to this route until we get to the Holding Center.”

It takes every ounce of self-control in my body to maintain a leader-like glare. To avoid dropping my gaze. I hold eye contact with Vera until she turns away.

We move around the back of the apartment building, walking down another alley. Garbage and human feces are piled in the gutters. The smell is horrific. We tie scarves around our faces to avoid being overwhelmed with the stench. I stop dead in my tracks, staring at two small human shapes crouched near the gutter. A little girl and what looks like her younger brother is pawing through the debris in the streets. Their clothes are nothing more than torn rags, skin smudged with dirt and grime.

They freeze, watching us with wide eyes.

“Oh, my God,” Vera whispers.

“We should help them,” Uriah says.

“No,” I reply. “We can’t.”

“But Commander—”

“—No.”

He makes a move to walk toward the children, then thinks better of it. He remains where he is, and we start moving again. The children are still motionless as we pass — almost as if they believe that if they stay still, they won’t be seen. It breaks my heart. Children are starving in the streets, digging through garbage and human waste to survive.

This is what Omega has done to us.

It’s just as devastatingly sad as it is infuriating.

“This is third world status,” Uriah grumbles. “Why did this have to happen?”

“Because we’re all human,” I sigh. “And human nature sometimes screws everybody over.”

“They were just children, Cassidy.”

“I know.” I pat his shoulder. “I didn’t say it was right. It just is.”

And what I don’t say out loud is that we — as militiamen — are fighting to restore not just humane living conditions, but freedom. We’re already doing our part — and more besides.

As we continue through the city, the image of the starving children haunts my mind. I try to push it away, focusing on my objective:

Chris. We’re here to rescue Chris.

But the further we push, the more afraid I become. Streets and buildings that I was familiar with as a child have been destroyed. A clothing boutique where I bought my first pair of skinny jeans as a fourteen-year-old has been looted, covered with bright, vulgar graffiti. A bakery where I used to meet with my math tutor has been burned out. The faded sign advertising discount scones and cups of coffee is riddled with bullet holes.

“Anarchy is hell,” Andrew remarks. “Omega didn’t do all this. Citizens did this.”

“My dad said it was insane,” I reply. “It took him three days to get out of here after the EMP hit.”

“Was he on foot?”

“Yeah.”

He’s silent for a second. Then, “I was in Fresno. When the EMP hit.”

“What were you doing?” I ask.

“Watching a movie.” He laughs softly. “Me and my friends. We were at the theater, and all of the sudden the power just goes out. Nobody’s phones are working, nobody’s flashlights are working. The ushers are falling over themselves to get us out of there, and by the time we get home…my family’s not even there. They’re just gone.” He closes his eyes. “I have no idea what happened to them. They just disappeared. The cars were still in the driveway.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, quivering. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know.” A pained expression crosses his face. “That’s the worst part, I guess. Not knowing.” He stops. “But maybe it’s a good thing, too.”

Yes. Maybe.

Sometimes it’s better to be blissfully ignorant of the fate of the people we love, than to know what horrific fate they had to suffer. Or you end up like me, with memories of friends like Jeff Young getting shot on the battlefield.

I shiver.

No more of that.

Vera snorts, “I can’t wait to get out of this Godforsaken place.”

“We’re almost there,” I whisper. “Almost.”

We can’t be more than three miles away from the prison, and that knowledge makes my hair stand on end. Once we actually reach the prison, we have to do a quick recon, find a point of entry, infiltrate it, find Chris, get out and survive — all in the timespan of one day. It’s a daunting task, but come hell or high water, I’m here to save Chris.

And I will not fail.

The Holding Center.

It looks exactly like the picture Alexander showed us. It sits on the corner of a boulevard in downtown Los Angeles. It’s a basic jail structure, but an Omega symbol is now painted above the doorway, and the street rumbles with activity. Omega trucks are parked outside. Patrols make their rounds through the area.

A small aircraft base is stationed a block away from the Holding Center. It’s an open area of asphalt and cement. The three warehouses in the back were previously marked with a storage company’s insignia. It has now been replaced with an Omega symbol. Omega has cleared the entire area to make a runway and landing strip. I can clearly see two black helicopters from here.

We are crouched on top of a five-story building two blocks away, studying the layout. Alexander is on my right, Andrew is on my left. Uriah, Derek and Vera are silent as we scope out our surroundings. The techies — three people, including Andrew — review the coordinates and blueprints of the building for the hundredth time.

“Distraction, not destruction,” Manny says in a low voice. “That’s the name of this game.”

“It might turn into destruction if we screw up,” Vera replies.

“We won’t,” I say with confidence that I don’t feel.

My heart is beating wildly in my chest. Chris is inside the building just two blocks away! He’s so close…yet so far. I take a deep, steadying, calming breath and close my eyes. The fact that we have made it this far without dying is a testament to the fact that A) we’re a highly skilled militia rescue unit or B) we’re just lucky.

“So,” Vera says. She looks at me. “The plan, Commander?”

A faint breeze rustles my hair. I shove my bangs out of my eyes as silence falls over the group.

You know the plan, make it work, Chris’s voice whispers.

“Okay,” I say. “Here we are. We’re alive and we’re still very capable of kicking Omega’s butt. We’ll have to use a little finesse, though. Distraction, not destruction, like Manny says.” I stare at the Holding Center. “Thanks to Alexander, we know where the patrols are and around how many guards will be inside. Our advantage is that we’re small, fast, and know how to hit hard. If we create enough confusion, Omega won’t know what hit them. Our disadvantage is that we don’t know where Commander Young will be. He could be anywhere in the building, with any of the POWs. Finding him will be time consuming, and that’s where the element of distraction comes in handy.”

“A few of you will keep the guards busy at the front of the building,” I continue. “While the rest of us will infiltrate the building from the rear entrance. It’s the easiest place to penetrate.”

“I love being the distraction,” Derek comments, smiling dryly.

“Yeah, you do,” Andrew replies, smiling a little. “You’re going to use every trick up your sleeve to keep them at the front of the building. We may not know exactly where Chris is, but we do know that the prisoners are in the back of the building, in the cells. That means we need to keep the guards away from that area.”