And that wouldn’t hurt my feelings.

Not one bit.

Omega should go ahead and give classes in world domination, because they’ve got the formula down to a science. I don’t know how far their invasion extends — or whether or not the United States is the only one affected by it — but I do know this: they’re smart. Organized. Utilizing resources that are already here, enslaving the population that was already in place. Things are working out fine and dandy for them, while the civilian population is being forced to march through cold showers and do manual labor.

Yeah. I’d say people like me could have been better prepared for a situation like this. It’s weird, too. I was probably the only person in Los Angeles with an emergency go-bag, a getaway car and a pre-planned emergency rendezvous point when the EMP hit. I was ready and prepared. Naïve? Yes. Scared? You bet. But I was actually ready. Apparently somebody needs to write a survival manual about labor camps, because now I’m not prepared. I’m at Omega’s mercy, and that seriously ticks me off.

I hate being bossed around.

So yeah. Enslavement isn’t my fantasy job.

But there are things I can do to keep myself alive and well while some of the other prisoners shrivel up and waste away. For one thing, mental stimulation is a big part of keeping myself sharp. I play games with myself. I solve riddles. I recite memory verses. Whatever I can do to keep my mind working. Sophia and I tell each other stories, everything from the Three Little Pigs to Goodnight Moon just to avoid going crazy. Or maybe the fact that we’re reciting Goodnight Moon out loud is a sign of our insanity. Whatever. It helps the time pass quicker.

The food that we get around this place isn’t enough to keep me healthy and strong, either, so Sophia and I have started eating some of the oranges we pick. It’s a potentially lethal situation, because if we get caught eating the food that we’re supposed to be picking, we could very well be killed. Just like that. And I have a feeling Kamaneva would dance a Russian jig over my grave.

The oranges are full of Vitamin C, though, which keeps us healthier than the rest of the prisoners. But I’m sure we’re not the only ones bending the rules. I mean, if you don’t fly under the radar, you’ll die. You’ll burn out and turn into a hollow shell of yourself. I’ve seen it happen.

An older woman named Jenna arrived at the labor camp a few days ago, and she’s already wasting away. She’s retreated far inside of herself, refusing to talk to anybody or eat anything. She worked until she dropped unconscious in the fields and the guards kicked her awake, forcing her back to her job. She’s given up hope. She’s already dead.

I don’t want to turn into that.

I want to live.

I want to see Chris again. And my dad. And the Youngs.

It’s not like it’s the ultimate dream to hang around a death camp for the rest of my life. More like the ultimate nightmare. Because a labor camp will eventually get you to one place: an early grave. Chris would agree with that. He’d tell me to figure a way out of this mess.

Well, I’m trying. There’s not a lot I can do with Kamaneva and her hyperactive guard dogs stalking our every move. It’s not like I can just smuggle in the back of a pickup truck and sneak out the front gate, either. Omega checks and double-checks every vehicle that goes in and out of the camp.

I’m stuck.

Stuck, stuck, stuck.

“We’re not stuck,” Sophia corrects. “We’re enslaved. There’s a difference.”

“Care to elaborate, oh philosophical one?”

“Stuck implies that we can’t move because we just can’t or won’t. We’re actually being temporarily detained by evil people.”

“Like I said. We’re stuck.” My fingers close around an orange, and judging by the amount of growling my stomach is doing, I could really use a little bite of it. “You know what I would give for a big greasy taco right now?”

“What would you give?” she sighs.

“I have no idea. Anything, probably.”

“Me too.”

Well, not anything. I wouldn’t be willing to lose my life over it. Then again, there’s no telling what I might be willing to go through for a taco. Enter my current climate of reasoning, a testament to the fact that I might be taking a ride on the crazy train a lot sooner than I think if I don’t get out of this place.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, approaching us. His bag is slung over his shoulder. “Want to know what I just heard?”

“Let me guess,” I say. “Kamaneva’s going to let us have pudding cups with our meals. Oh, joy.”

“No.” He frowns, looking puzzled. Harry doesn’t get my humor. “I overheard some of the guards discussing the backup generators.”

“What about them?”

“They’re going to start using them for cold storage.”

“Why?” Sophia asks.

“So they can store all of this food we’re harvesting for them,” I say. “They’ve got to be saving this for somebody, because they’re not shipping all of it out anymore.”

“Who do you think is coming?” Harry asks.

“I told you before. Backup.”

“But where is their backup coming from?” Sophia presses.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, thinking.

“We’re on the West Coast, right?”

“Duh.”

“It was a rhetorical question, genius.” I roll my eyes. “What country is closest to us?”

Harry shrugs.

“Oh, come on. China, anybody?”

“You don’t know that China is sending backup troops for Omega. We don’t even know who Omega is anyway,” Sophia replies. “If we don’t know who Omega is, then there’s no way we can know who’s helping them.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “All you have to do is think about all the countries that might have a motive to attack the United States. That’s, like, the entire universe.”

“So you’re saying the whole world is against us?”

“No. I’m saying I think we can be pretty sure that Russia is involved, and maybe North Korea. North Korea doesn’t have enough troops or the technology to invade the United States on their own. China does. China’s entire population is an army.”

“Then which one of those countries sent out the EMP? And who’s nuking the East Coast — if that’s even true?” Sophia asks.

“Does it really matter?” I say. “If they’re all working together, then it was a joint effort. Hooray for teamwork, I guess.”

“Where’s the rest of the world?” Sophia sighs. “What happened to them? Are we the only country affected by this?”

“That’s a good question,” I admit. “I would think one of our allies would come help us out…but not even our own military can help us, so maybe that’s a stupid question.” I stop and look up at Harry, who’s watching me with a curious expression. “What?”

“Nothing.” A small smile appears on his face. “You’re just very good at figuring things out, that’s all.”

“Do I get an A for effort?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever think about escaping?” Sophia whispers suddenly.

Harry and I stiffen at the mention of the “e-word.” That’s a trigger word. Instant death. I lower my voice. “Um, heck yeah. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.”

“It can’t be done, can it?” she stares off through the trees, her gaze stopping at the barbed wire fencing. “We really are…stuck.”

“Nah.” I nudge her shoulder. “I’m willing to give it the old college try at some point, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to end up dead.”

“She’s got a valid point,” Harry says.

“We’ll end up dead either way,” I point out. “Either we’ll be worked to death or we’ll die escaping. One of these days…” I trail off, knowing it’s wiser to keep my mouth shut. Just because the idea of escaping is an attractive thought doesn’t mean I should go blabbing about it. You never know who you can trust, especially in a place like this. It’s like high school on super steroids. Backstabbers, cliques, and nasty teachers all thrown into the same crummy mix. Only the penalty for messing up is a lot worse than suspension.