Frankly, it’s not that big of a deal. But Chris and Alexander are friends. Chris is probably angry that Rivera commanded his men and hurt that Alexander took the order without talking with Chris. Technically, we’re all volunteers and Alexander can do whatever he wants. If he wanted to go on a scouting mission, there was nothing stopping him.

But that doesn’t change the facts. Rivera shouldn’t have done this.

And we really didn’t need this kind of tension right before we move out tomorrow.

Don’t do this right now. We’ve got enough problems without crap like this.

“Cassidy,” Manny says, calling me from across the lot.

I clench my fists, following the sound of his voice. Spotting his lean figure near a streetlamp. “Don’t be so loud,” I hiss. “We’re trying to keep a low profile.”

“You’re going to want to see this,” he replies, his tone flat.

“See what?”

He nods toward the east side of the boulevard, at the mouth of the freeway onramp. A group of soldiers are gathering there, and there’s a hushed murmur breaking out. Curious, I join the group.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Nobody answers. A few militiamen are limping up the freeway onramp, bloody and bruised.

“Oh, my god,” I say, turning to the men. “Go get the field medics. Hurry.”

I gasp, recognizing Derek’s tall form walking up the ramp. A thick smear of blood mars his chest. “Derek, you went on the scouting mission?” I offer him my shoulders for support. He takes it, his breathing heavy. “What happened?”

“Ambush. Omega’s forward scouts,” he pants.

“Where’s Alexander?”

“He…fell behind.”

“What?”

Derek grits his teeth.

“I don’t know what happened to him. But he’s not here.”

A cold fist closes around my heart.

“Who else from our militia went on this scouting mission with you?” I ask.

“Just me.” Derek kneels on the asphalt, fighting to maintain steady breathing. “I gotta say, those Omega troops can pack a punch.”

“Where are you hurt?”

“Shoulder. It’s not too bad, it just hurts like hell.”

I get down on my knees beside him, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Alexander fell behind.

Alexander fell behind.

This is going to break Sophia’s heart.

Air support has arrived.

But I’m not as excited as I should be. Sophia is in tears, panicked at the thought of losing Alexander. Truth be told, he could still be alive. But falling behind is usually just another way of saying he got killed.

And we all know it.

The realization that somebody I’ve known personally might be dead hits hard. Alexander was never a touchy feely emotional guy, but you knew where he stood. He may not have been overtly talkative, but at least he got the job done. I may have thought he was a suspicious character when I first met him, but he proved me wrong.

Alexander was my friend.

I lean my head against Sophia’s shoulders, both of us sitting on the corner of a sidewalk behind the Taco House — Headquarters. It’s late morning. Hours have passed since Derek arrived with the scouting party, bloody and bruised. He’ll recover, but it’s a hard blow to have one of your best men injured and another one missing in action. It sucks. The only positive thing about this situation is the fact that a lot of the soldiers in the militia sector of the National Guard are furious over Alexander’s absence. They’re ready to destroy Omega.

“He’s not dead,” I say. “Alexander is way too smart to die on a scouting mission. You and I both know that.”

“I don’t know that.” Sophia wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve. “I can’t be certain of anything anymore.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“That is so easy for you to say,” she snaps, suddenly angry. “It’s always been you and Chris as long as I can remember. But now that I finally found somebody who loves me, he’s dead.” She presses the palm of her hand against her mouth, stifling a sob. I don’t take her outburst personally. How could I? How would I be reacting if it were Chris who fell behind and not Alexander?

I would be out there looking for him right now.

And maybe that’s the difference between Sophia and me.

I stand up and leave her in peace, having spent most of the day by her side in an attempt to comfort her. Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can say to ease the sting of a loss like this. So I won’t try.

Air support arrived soon after Derek and his men showed up from their scouting mission. My knowledge of aircraft is extremely limited, but Chris seems to be pleased by the force that’s here, courtesy of what’s left of the United States Air Force. We’ve got high-cover fighter bombers to take on enemy aircraft — and keep them from bombing us here at base. We’ve got smaller aircraft, too, for scouting near the ground and keeping Omega’s foot soldiers at bay, if needed.

And two Blackhawks. Those are my favorite. Two hulking black masses of metal. When they arrived earlier, the ground shook and the windows in the Taco House nearly blew out as they landed in the parking lot. I’ve been told that they will be used to transport wounded soldiers and pick off the enemy from close range.

Frankly, the technical aspects of aircraft and their uses are way over my head. What I understand is that they’re here to help us, and all I have to do is stick to the plan and do my job — and we’ll all be fine.

Hopefully.

I see Chris standing on the road, speaking to Max and his brother, Jeff. His posture is rigid as he folds his arms across his chest. Losing Alexander will be difficult for him.

He could still be alive, I remind myself.

That’s just not likely. I’ve seen enough scouts go missing in the last year to know that what falls behind stays behind. I brush my fingers over my belt, looking down at my lucky knife. The multiple gadgets and gizmos attached to my waist, all courtesy of the National Guard.

Yeah. When I graduated from high school, a career in the military was nowhere near my list of life goals. It was either go to college and get a degree in criminal justice or spend the rest of my life working shifts at a café in Los Angeles. I mean, come on. Even though the world sucks, at least my skillset has improved, right? I can do more than pour coffee into a cup these days.

I find my way over to Chris.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

His mood is tense. He’s focused on the task at hand.

“Fine.” He pauses, glancing across the

street. “How’s Sophia?”

“She’s devastated.”

“That’s to be expected.” Chris heaves a deep sigh. “We’re moving out, Cassie. This is it.”

“I’m not afraid,” I say.

I’m such a liar.

“There’s not a person here who isn’t

afraid,” he states.

I blink hard, fighting tears for what seems like the hundredth time in twenty-four hours. Chris slowly reaches out and takes my hand, holding it against his chest.

“We will survive,” he says.

“Alexander didn’t even survive the scouting mission, and he was one of our best men.”

“What happened to him is a part of war,” Chris replies, his eyes darkening. “But Rivera should have consulted me. They both should have consulted me.”

“Isn’t it normal to send out scouts, though?” I ask.

“Normal, yes. But the risk of losing someone never goes away.”

“What’s done is done,” I say. “We’re here, we’re ready to fight and that’s all we can do. You can’t change what’s happened — and neither can I. You can’t focus on that right now, or we won’t be able to move forward with this assault.”

Chris, still holding onto my hand, pulls me closer.

“You’re a wise woman,” he whispers, sliding his finger under my chin. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”