“You thought wrong, my dear.” Manny stands up in the cockpit, goggles glinting with moonlight, flight cap sticking up like a dunce hat. “But I take it as a compliment coming from you. You must have been worried.”

“I wasn’t worried. I knew you’d make it here sooner or later.” I fold my arms across my chest as he climbs down, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. “But it’s nice to see you here either way.”

“I agree,” he says, pushing the goggles around his neck. His pupils are dilated with adrenaline. “You know how long it took me to find your bloody National Guard unit? Two days. I showed up at Sector 20 and the people there told me that you’d deployed to the Chokepoint. What’s the big idea?”

“The idea is that we’re going to stop Omega’s advance into the valley,” I reply. “Why did it take you so long to get to Sector 20? You were supposed to be there a long time ago.”

“Said who?” Manny gives me a look. “I’m a volunteer. I’ll come when I’m ready to come.” He grins. “Now where’s the head fat cat around this place? I need to check in with him.”

“Chris is in the Taco House.”

“How fitting. What about Rivera?”

“He’s talking to the patrols.”

“Here we are in the middle of the war and he’s talking. Show me the way.”

“To Chris or Rivera?”

“Chris.”

I choke on a laugh, leading Manny across the concrete, through the single parking lot, and back to the Taco House.

“How was the flight in?” I ask.

“How wasn’t it, you mean.” Manny stomps through the front door of the restaurant, sizing up Chris, his boots propped up on the booth across from him, studying a map. “Greetings, Commander. Nice to see you’re still kicking.”

Chris replies, “What took you so long?”

“I was busy.” Manny stuffs his goggles and flight cap into the pocket of his leather duster. “And I hear we’re about to get a whole lot busier.”

“We’ve got a five thousand man army headed our way in twenty-four hours,” Chris answers. “And air support isn’t even here yet.”

“Don’t insult me, kid,” Manny sniffs. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“No offense, Manny, but we need more than a biplane for this one.” Chris stands up, tossing a map to the ground. “You didn’t see any Omega troop movements from the air, did you?”

“Quiet as a tomb everywhere I looked,” Manny shrugs. “The militias in California have done a good job of reducing the concentration and labor camps.”

“True.” Chris’s gaze narrows. “That could change.”

“We’re going to be okay,” I say. A lie? Not quite. I’m reaching for positive here.

“So what’s the plan?” Manny asks, plopping down on a chair. Kicking his boots up on a tabletop. “We’ve got — what? — a thousand men here? Five thousand coming our way. I’d say this is going to be interesting.”

“This is going to be tight,” Chris corrects. “If the Air Force can bring in their support for us on time, we stand a good chance. If not…. then we’ll just have to improvise. Use what we have here.”

“What’s Rivera’s plan?” Manny asks.

“We’re working together.”

“So you’re the big dog these days, then? Making all the decisions?”

“No.” Chris gives Manny a warning look. “Rivera and I share command. He’s got the guard forces and I’ve got the civilian militias.”

“Ah. By the way,” Manny says, digging in his pocket. “Your father wanted me to give this to you.”

He pulls a crumpled note out of his pocket and tosses it to me. I catch it neatly in the palm of my hand, unfolding it on the bar counter. I flick on the flashlight strapped to my belt. It’s an old piece of college ruled notebook paper. Dad’s handwriting is neat and clean, written in pencil.

I swallow thickly, overcome.

I read it over again. My Dad is a very non-emotional person. He doesn’t pour his heart out to people. This note is rare coming from him. It means a lot. I hand it to Chris without a word, not trusting my voice to be steady.

“Don’t get all teary-eyed,” Manny mumbles. “I’m just a messenger.”

I roll my eyes.

“Enough,” Chris commands, handing the note back to me. He touches me on the cheek — a gesture meant to instill comfort. “We’ve got work to do.”

I nod. I leave Manny with Chris, excusing myself. I need some fresh air. Talking about what’s about to happen isn’t doing anything for my nerves, and I often find that taking a quick walk eases my anxiety.

As I leave the Taco House again, I notice the humidity in the air. The high temperature. I’m pretty sure we’ve got some major weather headed our way. It is October, after all. A storm or two wouldn’t be unusual.

The other end of the encampment is the east side of the parking lot. It takes a long time to walk all the way over here. A tiny old convenience store behind a gas station is where the Colonel is. I check in with the guards and step inside. Dull lanterns illuminate the back of the building. Rivera is leaning against the counter, and Angela and Vera are there with him.

“Colonel,” I say.

He looks up, barely blinking.

“I’m busy at the moment.”

“I’m just checking in, sir.”

I take a peek at the maps they’re studying. They’ve circled different locations with sharpie pens, connecting dots with lines and scribbling around the edges.

“May I ask what you’re mapping out, sir?” I say.

“Strategy, Hart,” Colonel Rivera replies, straightening up from the counter. “Just reviewing what we already know. I’ve got a group of men scouting the surrounding area right now. They should be bringing back some valuable information by the time morning rolls around.”

“We agreed to keep our scouts within the Chokepoint,” I say, “because we don’t know how many enemy scouts Omega is sending out.”

We don’t want to lose men before the battle even starts.

“The National Guard is making sure the area is secure,” he states, emotionless. “Your Commander would agree with me.”

Would he? Was this something they discussed? I’m a Lieutenant. If there is any change to any plan, I know about it. Period. If Rivera is making independent decisions like this…

Colonel Rivera checks a couple of things before he heads out the door, leaving Vera and Angela and myself alone. “Manny arrived, I see,” Angela says. “Is he well?”

“He’s Manny,” I answer.

That’s an answer in itself.

“When Alexander’s platoon comes back, will we move our forces farther into the mountains?” Vera asks her mother. “Or will we wait for word from air support?”

“Whoa,” I interject. “Did you say Alexander’s platoon? Rivera sent Alexander out on a scouting mission to the Chokepoint?”

“That’s what he just said,” she states. “Were you not listening, Hart?”

“I was listening. He just failed to mention who he sent.”

“Alexander is under his command.”

“Alexander is under Chris’s command. If Rivera sent him out without consulting Chris…” I bite my lip. “Excuse me, Angela.”

I make a point of ignoring Vera in my goodbye.

Angela must notice the tension between us, but she has never asked why. Personally, I think that’s a great question. I wouldn’t hate Vera if she were actually kind to me and wasn’t always angling to steal my boyfriend.

I think I’m being pretty reasonable about the situation.

By the time I reach the Taco House again, Colonel Rivera has beaten me there. He’s discussing something with Chris, and judging by the raised voices, I’m guessing Chris just found out that the Colonel sent Alexander on a scouting mission without consulting Chris about it.