“I can’t see through the sights if I don’t tilt my head.”

“Yes, you can. If you’re in the natural position everything will be easier.”

I try. It takes me a couple of hours to get the hang of it, and I’m not the only one who’s having issues. Sophia almost chokes herself to death when Max teaches her how to use her rifle sling. I tease her about it - until I have to do the same drill. It’s not as easy as it looks.

Next, we learn how to shoot standing up. This is a lot harder for me because I’m relatively wimpy and at first the weapon feels like it weighs twice as much as I do. Chris shows me how to use the rifle sling to take the weight off my arms, which helps, but thanks to weeks of manual labor under Kamaneva’s command, my arms are a lot stronger than they look and I adjust quickly.

For two days, this is all we do. We run through basic drills over and over with unloaded weapons. Alexander Ramos gives everybody long, detailed lectures about guerilla war fighting techniques, drawing in the dirt to illustrate his points. Chris shows us how to use the features of the terrain around us to our advantage, like hiding in plain sight or firing from cover. Max lectures us on Omega inside secrets. Their routines, their chain of command, their fighting methods.

Yet through it all, there’s a constant theme: simplicity. We’re learning to keep things simple, quick and lethal. We have to. Omega is way bigger than us, and the only way we’ll stand a chance against them is if our little army is better organized than theirs. Hit hard, hit fast, and get out. It’s really no different than the guerilla techniques used centuries ago during the Revolutionary War.

On the third day, Chris lets us shoot. We apply all of the techniques we’ve learned and set our sights on various targets at different distances. Chris doesn’t want us to blow through too much ammunition, so our practice with live fire is limited. But it’s okay. Some of us are hitting accurately enough to kill an Omega soldier up to four hundred yards away. Even I’m getting good at this, which is an amazing accomplishment in itself. Chris has noticed my skills improving, and he continually makes comments like, “Nice work, Cassie,” or “Good job.”

In Chris speak that means, “Wow. I’m very impressed right now.”

At the end of the week, Chris and the other militiamen in charge seem satisfied with our progress. Personally, I’m impressed with how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time. A week ago I couldn’t put a magazine into a rifle without fumbling around like an idiot. Now I can do it with my eyes closed.

“I feel so hardcore,” I remark, sitting cross-legged next to Sophia. We’re eating lunch. It’s a warm day. The sun is filtering through the tree branches, reminding us that it’s almost April.

“How so?” Sophia asks.

“Oh, you know. Joining the army kind of gave me a confidence boost.”

She laughs, but a few seconds later she turns her head.

“Harry,” she hisses from the side of her mouth.

I look over my shoulder. He’s sitting alone on the edge of camp, stabbing his food with a camping spork. He’s also glaring in our direction. Part of me wants to go over and start a conversation with the guy — he’s obviously lonely. But common sense tells me that it would just be a waste of time. Nobody is making Harry sit in the corner of camp, and nobody is shunning him, either. If anything, he’s shunning us.

“He’s bitter, isn’t he?” Sophia comments.

“Seems to be.” I shrug. “I think he’s mad at himself for screwing up. And I think he’s terrified of Chris, which is understandable. I’d be scared of him too if I was Harry.”

“Still… Harry’s weird.”

I return my attention to my lunch. Harry’s not really weird. He’s just…confused.

“Mind if I join you, ladies?” a gruff voice rumbles.

I look up, meeting the gaze of Alexander Ramos. I’m too stunned to say anything. He hasn’t spoken directly to me since the day I met him — and that was an odd encounter.

“You’re doing well,” he says, sitting down in a vacant chair.

“Excuse me?”

“In your training. You’ve advanced fast.” Alexander folds his hands together. “Both of you have.”

Sophia blushes. It makes me want to gag. Lately she’s been nursing an ill-concealed crush on Alexander, one that I keep trying to discourage. True, I don’t have any real reason to not like the man. I just trust Chris when he says that he doesn’t think Alexander is completely stable.

Then again, Chris seems to trust him.

Hypocrisy in the workplace, eh?

“You’ve got talent,” he continues, looking right at me. “And you should utilize it. Chris is going to try to hold you back because he wants to keep you safe. Don’t let that happen.”

I bristle at the suggestion that Chris would do that… but he’s right.

“I don’t know how he would hold me back,” I say.

“Easy. He’ll put you in positions where you can’t get hurt. Where you won’t be used to your full potential.” He leans forward. “Don’t let him do that to you. We need everybody’s talent on the line, here. You’re quick with your hands and your feet. You’re a good shot. We can use you.”

He takes a long breath, reaching for a cigarette.

How many of those does he have? I think.

“Thanks for the advice,” I say, uninspired.

“Don’t mention it.” He stands up, dusting his pants off. “Like I said before, be careful.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Just don’t let yourself be pushed aside. That goes for you too, Rodriguez.”

Sophia perks up when he mentions her last name. He walks away, flipping a lighter out of his pocket. I make a face and return to my meal.

“He’s handsome,” she sighs.

“He’s strange.” I brush my bangs out of my eyes. “I don’t know why he felt the need to tell us that. It doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe he’s just a nice guy who’s concerned about us.”

“Maybe… he was in charge until Chris came around.” I tilt my head back and try to put myself in his shoes. “If I were him, I’d probably be a little upset about it.”

Sophia ignores me.

We the eat the rest of our lunch in silence, thinking about our training, thinking about Alexander Ramos, thinking about poor, cowardly Harry. When we’re done, we join the other recruits for some more training. I find myself zoning out and struggling to stay awake as the warm afternoon daylight hits my face.

“Can you believe it?” Sophia whispers.

“Hmm?”

I blink a few times, lifting my drowsy head, focusing in on Chris’s figure standing over me. He’s looking at me with an expression of wry amusement — or annoyance. Probably the latter.

“What?” I say, stifling a yawn.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” he asks.

“Sorry. Sunshine puts me to sleep.”

Sophia smirks.

“He just said we’re going to hit Omega for real this time. Hard.”

Chris has my full attention now.

“What? The raid on the labor camp wasn’t real enough?” I quip.

“You’re ready,” he says, looking at me, then focusing on something in the distance. Ignoring my sarcasm. “You need firsthand experience.”

But I can tell by the look on his face and the tone of his voice that he’s not taking this lightly. Good. Because neither am I.

Are we ready for this?

Ready or not, here we come. That’s our motto for the next few hours. Chris is standing next to me on the edge of camp, cinching up his boots, rechecking his gear. The sky is dark, broken only by starlight filtering through the clouds. I’m standing there, twiddling my thumbs, full of nervous energy as I get my gear together in the near darkness of the forest. Rifle? Check. Sling? Double check. Shoelaces tied? Make that a triple check, and just to be on the safe side, I’ll throw in a double knot. Jeff’s knife is strapped around my thigh. It’s always been something like a good luck charm to me in the past, so I like to keep it with me.