Arlene’s eyes soften a bit.

“I believe you,” she answers.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” I say. “We need to get moving as soon as possible. Do you have everything we need?”

“I will.” She looks over her shoulder, whistling shrilly.

As I turn and open the lead Humvee’s back door, Manny comes out of the woods. His flight cap is stuffed into the pocket of his duster. He’s flushed. It looks like he’s been running.

“Manny?” I say. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better,” he replies, bending down. Scratching Cinco behind the ears. “I see you made it in one piece. That’s good news.”

“You could say that,” Vera remarks.

“It wasn’t as bad as we thought it’d be,” I shrug.

He bats the dog’s tail away.

“I told you it was purely elementary, didn’t I?”

“Let’s go inside,” I say, reminding myself that I’m in charge, and therefore I should lead the way. “Standing around in the open isn’t wise.”

The hills could have eyes other than our own.

“Good call,” Andrew murmurs.

Vera gives him a condescending look as she passes him.

Why is she even here? I wonder. It’s certainly not because she’s my biggest fan.

I lead the platoon — about twenty-five people in all — to the front of the gate. The woman falls into step beside me, Manny on her left. The dog is silent. I keep my eye on it, regardless.

“I’m Arlene, by the way,” the woman says. “Codename Shepherd One on the radio.”

Ironic.

“You’ve got a reputation, Cassidy,” she continues

“So I’ve been told,” I answer.

She unlocks the gate, shouting at the powerful guard dogs on the other side, commanding them to be silent. They cease most of the barking and growling, prowling around the sides of the fence. They know their master, and they have been trained to respond well.

Manny says something to Arlene in a low voice.

She playfully slaps his shoulder. He laughs good-naturedly.

Hmm.

The front walkway to the ranch house is wide, packed tight with gravel, the lawn perfectly manicured. The house itself is three stories, painted in muted earth tones, blending in with the terrain. A sprawling bunkhouse sits on the right hand side of the property, and in the back, there are stables and corrals.

“Nice place,” Vera comments.

“Yes,” Arlene replies. “Been in the family for generations.”

We reach the front door. It’s huge, oak and bracketed with black iron hinges. Arlene pushes it open and we step inside. I take a deep breath, marveling at the 19^th century design. Large windows in the second floor shed natural light into the room. It smells like aged leather and dusty books. And food! Something is cooking, and the scent is mouthwatering.

How long has it been since I’ve been inside a house?

“Welcome to the Double Y Ranch,” Arlene announces, standing at the end of the entryway. “We’re a way-station for traveling soldiers and a proud thorn in the side of Omega. What you see and hear in this place is confidential. We are a low-profile operation, and I expect you to all to treat this location accordingly.”

I nod.

“How long have you been working with the Underground?” I ask.

“Since the beginning,” she replies. She glances at Manny. “I’ll be able to help you reach Los Angeles. Up until this point, I haven’t been told what your mission is, and I won’t ask.”

“This is a rescue unit,” I explain briefly.

“Ah, so it’s true, then,” she frowns. “Commander Young was captured.”

I hold her gaze. Yes. It’s true.

“Commander, you have my word,” she says, “that I will do everything in my power to help you and your men pull off a successful mission.”

I find myself smiling.

“Thank you,” I reply.

And I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.

Here’s the thing that nobody tells you about being in love:

It’s hard.

Anything good in life takes work, and lately, a lot of blood, sweat and tears. My relationship with Chris Young has always been defined not just by mutual attraction, but by the fact that we were brought together in the middle of a post-apocalyptic warzone.

Flowers and dinner dates? Never had those.

Firefights and battle fatigue? That’s more like it.

Wartime hardship has always been the dominating factor in our romance. It’s what brought us together, it’s what’s kept us together, and now…it’s what has torn us apart. Being separated from Chris is more difficult for me than being separated from my father. Because through everything, Chris has been the one that has kept my feet on the ground. He’s been the one to protect me, train me, and teach me how to survive. The fact that I’m still alive is a testament to his skillset, not mine.

And not knowing if he’s alive or dead is killing me.

Our platoon is gathered at the long table in the dining room of Arlene’s ranch house. Derek is sitting across from me. Vera is on my left, Uriah is on my right, and Manny and Arlene are seated on the other end of the table. Andrew is sitting on a couch, fiddling with a radio.

“The plan?” Manny echoes. “We eat.”

Several women pop out of the kitchen, serving us food. Someone sets a bowl of steaming beef stew in front of me. It smells fabulous. Much better than the wartime rations I’ve been eating on the battlefield.

“Where do all these people come from?” I wonder aloud.

“They’re refugees,” Arlene explains. “They stay here, and in exchange for safekeeping, they help Underground operations run smoothly.” She gestures to the soup. “Feeding our soldiers is an important part of that.”

“Are you associated with any specific militia?” Vera presses.

“I’m a free agent. What I do is here is my own business, and I’ve chosen to help all of the militias.” Arlene picks up her spoon. “We’ve all got to do our part to keep Omega out of our homes.”

True words.

“How do you know Manny?” I ask, pointblank.

Arlene seems startled by my question, then takes a bite of stew.

“I’ve known Manny for many years,” she replies.

“Arlene and I go back a long time,” Manny says.

“Commander,” she says, looking at me, “as soon as your men have eaten, I’ll give you all the information and equipment you’ll need to reach Los Angeles.”

I pick up my utensils.

“Has Omega ever showed up on your front doorstep?” Uriah asks. “I mean, every nice ranch house or mansion from here to the valley has pretty much been burned or ripped apart.”

“They’ve yet to find me,” Arlene says. “This property is well hidden, far away from the main highways and difficult to spot from the air. Local militia keeps Omega from wandering too far into these hills with harassing fire. I’ve never had this many militiamen at Double Y before. The sooner you’re on your way, the better.”

Okay, then.

“What’s left of Los Angeles?” Vera suddenly asks.

I flick my gaze to Arlene, watching her face. She frowns slightly, swallows, and answers, “It’s different.”

“Define different.”

“The Port of Los Angeles is being used to receive ships filled with Chinese soldiers,” Arlene replies. “Downtown Los Angeles has been commandeered by military units and Beverly Hills has been taken over by high level Omega officers.”

“What about the population?” Derek says. “The civilians?”

“They’re dead,” Arlene answers. No hesitation. “The chemical weapon was…effective. The population that remains exists only because Omega has allowed for a labor force. It is entirely a military city. A fortress.”

“The militias and the National Guard stopped Omega’s northward push into the valley,” I say. “I don’t think it was because we had more soldiers or firepower. Something drove them back, and it wasn’t us. Has something happened that we need to know about?”