This is why I came to Los Angeles and risked my life.

“I will keep moving forward,” I say.

And for the time being, I put Vera’s words out of my mind.

Chris is mine, now.

It’s time to stop living in the past.

We get lucky. We leave Toluca Lake and the rendezvous point at midnight. The streets are dark and cold. There are no lights. It’s amazing to me how a city that was once full of noise and light is now so dark and empty. It’s literally nothing but a husk of what it was.

Chris leads the group, and it is obvious how glad everyone is to have him back. This is what we came here for. We came for our leader, we found him, and everything is right with the world.

Well. What’s left of the world, anyway.

We slip through abandoned streets in unit formation. At one point I stop to look at a limousine sitting at the curb. It’s rusted over. Weeds twist around the wheels. The rear windows are missing. Dried blood is caked to the exterior of the doors.

I jog to catch up with Chris.

“Did Alexander tell you about Mexico?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“And…?”

“And what?”

“What’s your theory? I know you have one.”

He smirks.

“If Mexico is fighting Omega,” he says, “then that’s good news for us. It’ll take the pressure off.”

“What about China? They’ll be back.”

“They will.”

I sigh.

“I wish we could just turn on the news and get all of the information,” I say. “Don’t you miss that?”

“The news was nothing but part of the truth, anyway,” Chris shrugs. “This isn’t that much different. It’s just slower.”

“You’re such a conspiracy theorist.”

“Right. I’m a conspiracy theorist.”

I playfully nudge his shoulder, but not too hard.

He is our Commander, after all.

“So,” I begin again. “The Mad Monks. We might run into them on the way home. They’re actually on our side. The rumors are exaggerated.”

“I suspected as much.”

“They helped us navigate to Toluca Lake on our way in. They knew who you were.”

“Even in wartime people gossip.”

“No. You’re just really popular,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, but I know he’s smiling.

By the time we make it out of Toluca Lake, it’s been a few hours. We climb to the top of the far mountain — the same mountain where we entered the city. Twilight has settled over the horizon, casting an eerie gray pallor over the skyline. The ravaged ruins of the skyscrapers look like something out of a horror movie.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Manny remarks.

“It was,” I say, sad.

“It will be again,” Chris interjects, his eyes focused on something in the distance. “Come on.”

He doesn’t linger. We slip over the ridgeline before sunrise, disappearing into the golden grass of the hills.

Goodbye, Los Angeles.

We will meet again someday.

We reunite with our horses. The Underground militia operatives are waiting for us at a Way House in the hills. It’s a small ranch house, surrounded by trees. The stable in the back is hidden from the air. We move out quickly. Chris talks to the operatives and I find my way into the stable. It smells like wet hay and animals. It’s a familiar, comforting scent.

“Katana!”

Her gorgeous, velvety fur practically glows in the early morning sunlight. She recognizes me instantly. I kiss her soft nose and scratch her behind the ears.

“Hey, girl,” I whisper. “We made it back in one piece. It’s a miracle.”

It doesn’t take us long to gear up. Mach — the midnight black horse that was previously Uriah’s mount — is chosen by Chris. He swings himself into the saddle with ease. Is there anything that he can’t do?

Nope. He can do everything.

I adjust to Katana’s rhythmic movement as we hit the trail. I’ve missed traveling by horseback, honestly. It’s fun — and a lot faster than walking. Even if it does make me saddle sore.

I trot Katana alongside Chris’s horse as we journey along the trails. I keep my eyes open for signs of the Mad Monks, but everything is oddly quiet. There are no footprints, no areas of broken grass. I have trained myself to look for irregularities in natural landscapes — signs of human life. But here, I see nothing. And that disturbs me. If this is Mad Monk territory, I should have spotted something by now.

Right?

If Chris feels the same way, he says nothing. Instead he’s just eternally alert, watchful and cautious. In other words, he’s Chris. I feel incredibly relieved to not have to be the number one person in charge anymore, although we still maintain our security formation, and I am always watching for trouble.

We camp when it gets dark and rest. I sleep on the ground near Katana, my head propped up on my backpack. The weather is getting colder. It’s nearly November, now. Almost one year since the EMP destroyed the world as we knew it.

Not even a year. Wow.

I see Chris talking to Alexander. They’re speaking in hushed tones while the militia drifts off to sleep, just out of earshot of the soldiers keeping watch.

I fall asleep. Morning comes way too quickly. We saddle up and get moving again. The following days are uneventful. Peaceful, even. I wonder why we couldn’t have had this kind of experience on the way in to Los Angeles. I mean, we were actually in a hurry then!

That’s life, I guess.

By the time we make our way back to Arlene’s Way House, everyone in the militia is numbed with exhaustion. It has been almost three weeks since we left the National Guard to rescue Chris. In that timespan we have lost four soldiers, penetrated the heart of Omega’s stronghold and rescued Chris — along with about a dozen other militia officers. Our mission has been a success, despite the casualties that we took. It’s the first time in a long time that something has actually gone right.

It gives me a little bit of hope.

The trees surrounding Arlene’s house have paled in color since we were last here. Winter is coming. Dead leaves crackle and twigs snap beneath the horses’ hooves. I stay on Katana and watch the bushes and shrubs. The fact that I was nearly attacked by a German Shepherd the last time I was here has not been forgotten.

“Notice something?” I whisper suddenly.

“What?” Vera asks. She pulls up on her horse beside me.

“There are no dogs.”

The fence around the front of the house is empty. The sign that reads NO TRESPASSING is gone. I twist my head around and look at Manny. He’s sitting motionless on his horse, a concerned expression on his face.

“That’s not right,” I mutter.

I slide my legs over Katana’s back and land on the dirt. Chris does the same.

“What should we have been expecting?” Chris asks me, raising an eyebrow.

“Well…not this.” I shake my head. “This is too quiet. And the sign…”

Manny dismounts, followed by Uriah, Vera, Andrew, Derek, Alexander and the rest of the militia. I am the first one through the wire gate. It creaks loudly, unlocked. I grip a small handgun. Yet again, we are scoping out another perimeter. Looking for an enemy. I look at Chris. I look at Uriah.

I say, “Do a quick recon of the house. Make sure nobody’s hiding here.”

Uriah nods. Both he and Derek take some militiamen and fan out around the house, searching the property for signs of trouble. I stare at the front door.

It’s standing wide open.

“Arlene,” Manny breathes.

He rushes to the front door and steps inside the house. Chris and I are right on his heels. The furniture in the front hallway has been smashed. The mirror on the far wall in the living room is shattered. Bits of glass are strewn across the floor, glittering in the early morning sunlight. A cold chill slides down my spine.