“The real issue isn’t this,” Dad snaps. “It’s what we’re going to do when this fight is over. Then what? Do we start rebuilding? Where’s the federal government? Do we come up with our own governing body?”

Good question. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

Angela looks at Dad. “Personally, I believe that we should build on what’s already in place,” she says. “The laws, the division of powers between the branches of government. We just start where we left off.”

I tap my fingers against my forearms, considering. I guess the militias everywhere would have a responsibility to start rebuilding the country if we succeeded in wiping Omega out. And then we’d have to decide how. We’d have to make sure that what we built wouldn’t collapse.

“Why start with a flawed system?” Commander Buckley demands, dropping his fist on the table. “Our government was corrupted beyond all comprehension before the EMP destroyed our infrastructure. This is our chance to wipe the slate clean and start over fresh, just like the original founders did.”

“And do what?” Dad growls. “Rewrite the constitution ourselves? Come up with a new system of democracy?”

“Technically, the United States is a republic,” I mutter.

“You know what I mean,” he says pointedly. “If we manage to push back this invasion, we’ll need a form of authority. We don’t want to become a military state, and we don’t want the population to have total free reign — that’s anarchy.”

“I’m aware of that,” Commander Buckley replies. “I’m also aware that there are a lot of things we could do better because of what we’ve been through.”

I look at Chris, gauging his reaction to all of this. I didn’t mean to start an argument about rebuilding the entire freaking government. I was just wondering who was in charge.

Personally, I think Commander Buckley has a point. A really good point.

Why build a rebirthed nation on a system that crumbled apart?

“We know what needs to be done,” I say suddenly, before I can stop myself. “We need a solid form of authority and structure, right? Anarchy will get us wiped off the map. The old system of government will collapse on itself, because it was too corrupted. But the idea of what we had was right on. You can’t argue with that. We were the most powerful, most creative, most free nation on earth. So we take what we know and come up with our own version. Like a purer version of what this is all supposed to be. Maybe this is our chance to fix everything that was ever wrong with our system. We could make sure something like this never happened again.”

Chris gives me a proud look.

I know. I made an intelligent statement. Go figure.

“No,” Dad says firmly. “We do not need to go around experimenting with different forms of government. That could set us up for total destruction.”

“Oh? So where are we right now?” I ask. “Last I checked, total destruction was already here. In case you hadn’t noticed, China is sending a million man army to the west coast and every major city from here to New York has been bombed.”

I immediately regret snapping at my father. But I can’t help it.

Can’t he see that he’s wrong?

“The girl has an excellent point,” Commander Jones adds. “Frank, we’re not saying to install a new system. Just an updated one. One that’s written with the knowledge of people who have seen the previous weaknesses and want to correct them…”

The men drone on and on, arguing back and forth over the issue. Frankly, it all seems a little bit stupid. Shouldn’t our focus be fighting Omega? What good does it do to talk about the aftermath when we’re barely keeping our head above the water right now?

After an hour, the men are all but choking each other out, shouting and pounding their fists on the wall. Dad is one of the worst, fingers clenched around the edges of the table, a vein throbbing in his neck.

Finally, Chris speaks up.

“This is irrelevant,” he states.

Dad explodes, setting his laser-like glare on him.

“What do you mean by that?” he says. “This is necessary. What happens when—”

“—I understand that,” Chris interrupts. “But the fact of the matter is that we haven’t won this war yet. We’re walking the razor’s edge every day. Our focus now should be survival and combat strategy. We need to win this war. That is our priority. When the time comes, we can worry about rebuilding our infrastructure.”

“No. We need a plan,” Dad insists. His eyes flick to me.

“Sorry,” I shrug. “I agree with Chris on this one.”

Why do I feel so guilty saying that?

And that’s when I hear the sirens.

Fear surges through my veins.

Sirens.

The last time I heard sirens was when I was imprisoned in a slave labor camp. I flinch and stand up, a sudden silence falling over the room. Angela freezes. Even Dad appears to be caught off guard.

“What does that mean?” I breathe.

Angela leans back, a slight smile on her lips.

“Manny’s back.”

“Manny? Who’s Manny?”

Angela tilts her head.

“Vera, take Cassidy to meet Manny.”

She nods. I don’t move, confused.

“Wait… where am I going?”

“Just go with Vera.” She tilts her head. “Go on. Enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself? Seriously?

Chris starts to stand but Angela places a hand on his forearm.

“No, you need to stay,” she says. “We need you in this discussion.”

But apparently they don’t need me.

Vera heads towards the door.

“Come on, Hart,” she says.

I sigh, locking gazes with Chris as I exit. When we step onto the porch, I chew on my lower lip, self-conscious standing next to Vera in the sunlight. Where I’m covered in scars and freckles, she’s perfect. Where my hair looks like the TV commercial for a chia pet, hers looks like a salon advertisement for Vidal Sassoon.

Figures I’d get stuck with her.

I take a deep breath, suck up my pride, and say,

“So where are we going?”

“To meet Manny.” She walks down the steps and I follow, cutting a beeline across the entrance road. The siren has stopped, and I notice quite a few people heading in the same direction that we are.

“Who’s Manny?” I press. “And why does he have a siren?”

“He doesn’t have a siren,” Vera snorts. “It means he’s coming.”

“In what? A tank?”

She gives me a weird look.

“It’s a joke,” I say. “I was making a…. never mind.”

Vera takes a right, heading towards the barracks.

“So…” I begin, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“So nothing, Hart,” Vera snaps, whipping around. Her blue eyes are sparking, her cheeks flushed with color. “This is my home, and you are not going to take it away from me.”

I blink a few times.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply, surprised.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She folds her arms. We’re both standing in the middle of the road. An epic stare down. “There aren’t any female leaders in the camp besides my mother and I. Don’t mess with us.”

“I’m not here to mess with anybody.”

“I’ve heard all about you, you know.” She does a quick once-over of my appearance. “I was expecting somebody a little more…intimidating.”

Tiny but mighty, I think, remembering a long-ago conversation I once had with Chris about my height. What is her problem?

“I didn’t come here to challenge anybody’s position of authority,” I state, fighting the urge to land a good kick to her chin. That would be very unladylike. “I came here because Omega killed a lot of our men and we needed a place to stay. Period. If you think otherwise then you’ve got a problem.” I walk around her. “Let’s go see Manny.”