“So Washington D.C. is completely gone,” I say, my mouth dry.

“The government is essentially nonexistent,” Colonel Rivera confirms, tapping his cigar on his knee. Placing it between his teeth again, continuing, “Or if it does exist in some form, it’s ineffective. Each state is doing what it can to protect itself. We’re on our own.”

“What about the Navy?” Chris asks, arms folded across his broad chest. “And the Air Force? If the National Guard survived, where’s the rest of the military?”

“They’re fighting,” Colonel Rivera says. “Their forces are concentrated on the east coast. They’re trying to stop the knife in the gut, so to speak, that Omega’s pushing towards the west. The west coast is ours to defend, and we need your help.”

I lick my lips, my worst fears confirmed.

The east coast is gone. Omega is coming.

“You want us to come to Fresno,” I say.

“Yes. We need you.”

I look at Chris. What do we do? Haven’t we been waiting — no, praying — for help from the United States military? I didn’t expect them to be asking us for help.

Silence. No one says a word. Angela appears to be thinking very hard about the Colonel’s words. Dad and Colonel Buckley look at each other. I try to gauge Chris’s expression, but he’s impossible to read. And then there’s me. What do I want to do?

What do I need to do?

“I’m in,” Chris says solemnly.

“So am I,” Angela adds.

“I’m not,” Commander Buckley interjects. “Our first priority is to keep the mountains secure, not to mention protect the mountain community.”

“I agree with Buckley,” Commander Jones says. “Frank?”

Dad stares at the floor for a long minute.

“I can offer some of my men, but I’ll stay,” he says at last. “My duty is to protect these people, and to protect the mountains. That’s why I started the Rangers.”

“We will all contribute,” Angela clarifies, turning to Colonel Rivera. “But not all of us. Chris and I will join you. Jones, Buckley and Hart will remain here.”

I shift from foot to foot. Nobody asked me, did they?

“I’ll go,” I say.

Dad looks up sharply.

I bite my lip. Was that impulsive? No. The National Guard needs our help. The country needs our help. And that’s what I’m going to do.

I look at Dad. His face is grim. He looks down and away.

And then it dawns me.

If I leave, I’ll be separated from my father.

Again.

Tonight I sneak out of my cabin, Bear Paw. The air is sharp and cold, so I pull my jacket tighter.

Leave Camp Freedom? Leave your father behind? Didn’t you just find him?

My mind is racing. I told Colonel Rivera that I would join the militiamen and women who were going to Fresno to the National Guard base. Did I say that because Chris did? Because I’m terrified of the idea of losing him?

Because if he left and I stayed behind…

I push the thought away. I can’t imagine a life without him. We’ve been through too much together. And then there’s my father, who I searched and searched for, finally finding him…why? So I can leave?

Guilty, I walk across the meadow. The perimeter of Camp Freedom is heavily patrolled. Some civilians are still awake in Staff Housing, a small collection of houses where families with small children are living. Chris’s parents are living there, taking care of orphaned children like Isabel.

I sit on the edge of the meadow and stare at the sky. The stars are dazzling up here in the high mountains. The longer you gaze at them, the more it seems like you’re being sucked into space.

Do I go or do I stay? I think.

After the long meeting with Colonel Rivera, we drove him back to his convoy. Chris told him we’d link up with them in the valley in two days, at a meeting place the two of them determined at the edge of Fresno. Neither Dad nor I spoke during the hike back to camp. Chris didn’t say anything, either. We’d all made our decisions. The military finally came. Our chance to get our hands on quality weapons, ammunition, food, vehicles and shelter was here.

What more was there to say?

“So do I go or do I stay?” I mutter. “I don’t know.”

“I know.”

I jump, startled. Manny strolls onto the meadow off the road, and for the first time I notice that he has a limp. Not a big limp, but enough to make it appear that he’s dragging his left leg behind him as he walks.

I snap, “What are you doing out here at night?”

“What are you doing out here at night?”

“I’m…thinking.”

“About leaving, it sounds like.” He adjusts his leather duster. “So what have you decided?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going. Hell, this is what I’ve been waiting for.”

“Everybody’s been waiting for this.”

He pops his flask out of his pocket, taking a quick swig.

“You know,” he says, looking up at the sky, “it all comes down to one thing.”

“What?”

“What’s more important to you: staying safe or staying fierce.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let’s say you stay here,” he shrugs, walking off. Curious, I follow him, the cold breeze whipping my hair into tangles. “It’s pretty safe. Camp Freedom has been secure for months. It’s a nice community. Your chances of living here are pretty good at the moment.”

“But…?” I press.

“But where they really need us is down in the valley,” Manny continues. “We can’t hide in the mountains forever. Eventually, Omega will get wise and smoke us out. We have to keep them from getting to that point.” He stops at his battered biplane, lovingly running a hand over the faded blue stripe. “I’m going to help. What are you going to do?”

He climbs onto the wing of the plane, sitting down in the pilot’s seat.

“I want to do the right thing,” I say.

“Then do it.”

He flips a switch in the cockpit. A green glow lights his weathered face.

“It’s not that easy,” I say.

“Actually, it is.” He lazily pulls his flight cap and goggles out of a compartment in the cockpit. “You just do it.”

“Oh, yeah?” A small smile creeps across my face.

Just do it.

“Are you going to fly this thing right now?” I ask. “In the middle of the night?”

“What? Did you think I’m just taking a midnight stroll for the sake of star gazing?” He jerks his thumb behind him. “Get in.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t do heights.”

Manny raises his eyebrows at me.

“You do now.”

I look behind my shoulder, excitement zinging up my spine.

“Get in,” he says.

This could actually be fun.

I crawl into the single passenger seat, which is in front of the pilot’s seat. It’s silent, and if Manny isn’t supposed to be taking off at this hour of the night, nobody’s going to bother stopping him now. Manny flips another switch and I feel a current course through the small aircraft. The engine fires, cranks a couple of times, then roars to life in a cloud of blue smoke. The sound is deafening. The entire plane vibrates and shakes, literally rattling my teeth.

What am I doing?

A pair of goggles is hanging from a knob in front of me. I grab them and put them on, twisting in my seat, grabbing the edge of the cockpit to keep my balance as I look at Manny. He’s got a huge smile on his face, the earflaps from his leather flying cap flailing wildly with each movement of the plane. He’s laughing.

Manny opens the throttle up and slews the plane around in a bouncy, dusty circle, pointing the nose of the plane down the long stretch of grass ahead. If anyone notices the loud noise of the engine, they don’t care. Manny going on a scouting mission is a common occurrence.

“Hang on to your hat!” Manny shouts.

“I’m not wearing…” I sigh. “Okay.”

I wonder how much Manny’s slow consumption of alcohol throughout the day is going to affect his piloting skills. Hopefully not that much. Because I would prefer to come back from this scouting mission alive.