But sometimes things aren’t so simple.

When an organization gets big, there will inevitably be people who will betray you. In this war, betrayal can lead to the death of everybody in the militia, so it has to be dealt with swiftly and effectively. In the event that somebody commits a horrible crime, the officers convene with Chris. All it takes is three command level officers to vote for a punishment to make it happen. So far we’ve been lucky. We’ve only had to punish people for petty crimes like stealing extra food rations, hoarding ammunition and getting into fights. But at some point, somebody will do something so big that we’ll have to figure out how to handle the situation.

Maybe we should just build a jail.

At any rate, we’re not the only guerilla war fighters in the area. Other militia groups have been popping up in the state, an encouraging piece of information we learned from the Underground, a network of rebel militiamen who carry messages up and down the state for people like us. Like undercover pony express riders, they travel on foot from one destination to the next, passing on messages to fellow rebels. They have a dangerous job. They travel alone, they travel fast, and they travel light. The cover of darkness is their best friend as they run from camp to camp, sending messages between the rebel “communities.” If they’re caught, they’ll either be killed or tortured to death.

So of course their number one priority is to avoid getting caught.

Everything has gotten faster, cleaner and more efficient. The Freedom Fighters are turning into a well-oiled resistance front, and I’m starting to find my groove. I never thought I’d fit into a society like this, but life has a way of surprising you. For the first time in my life, I actually feel like I belong somewhere. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, I haven’t decided yet.

“I have some new information for you, Cassie,” Chris says one day. The scorching July heat is all but singeing my eyebrows off, so I’m huddled under the shade of a tall tree. The camp is busy with activity — there is no such thing as an idle moment here. Even our sleeping hours have purpose. “Cassie?”

I blink and look up, yawning.

“Sorry. I was dozing.”

He smiles and sits down next to me, one of the few moments lately when he’s been relaxed enough to do this. As the weeks have passed, the stress and pressure of being in charge of this militia have changed him. He’s even more logical and methodical than he used to be. He’s a lot busier, too. People depend on him to make life-changing decisions. It must be difficult to carry a burden like that.

“What’s up?” I say.

“Underground gave us some new information,” he replies.

I lean forward. “Is it good or bad news?”

“Both. The good news is, there’s a rebel militia force called the Mountain Rangers headed our way.”

I nod. We’ve all heard of the Rangers. They’re second only to the Freedom Fighters in notoriety. “What’s the bad news?” I ask.

“The bad news is, we have to decide if we want to join forces with the Rangers or if we want to keep our group separate. Joint operations change the dynamics. Right now our men work really well together. Bringing in an ally could either mess things up or make us stronger.”

“We don’t know enough about the Rangers to make a judgment, do we?”

“The Rangers are, as far as we know, very similar to our militia. They use guerilla war fighting tactics, they’re quick, they’re hearty and they’re no friends to Omega.”

That makes them on our side, I guess. But Chris is right. Exposing ourselves to anybody is a monumental risk.

“Why don’t you meet with their commander and talk to him about it?” I suggest. “Just you and him. Don’t drag everybody else into it until you’re absolutely sure that we need their help.”

“We don’t really need anybody’s help,” Chris replies. “But we could do a lot more with an extra force.” He stares at something in the distance, thinking. “That’s not a bad idea, Cassie. I should do that.”

“Can you get a message through to the Rangers using the Underground?”

“I should be able to.”

“Who’s in charge of their group?”

“I don’t know. Everybody’s got codenames.”

“Right. Alpha One.” I grin. “What’s their leader’s codename?”

“We’ll find out.” He stretches his long legs across the dirt, threading his fingers through mine. “The Underground also mentioned a huge Omega supply depot being stocked on the outskirts of the foothills. A lot of food and water are going in there. Omega’s tightening up security around the place — it’s important.”

“So we need to hit it, then?” I ask.

“Essentially.”

“Do we have enough manpower for that?”

“I think so. We’re outnumbered, but we’re smarter. And faster.” Chris looks down at our hands. “How are you holding up?”

It’s a sudden question. And something he hasn’t asked me in a while.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not very descriptive.”

“I am.” I bite back a smile. “I miss you, though. Even though I’m around you all the time, it’s like you’re not really here. You’re always so busy.”

Chris presses the palm of his hand against my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But you understand, right?”

“Understand that people need you?” I nod. “Yeah. I do. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “You’ve adapted extremely well. You’re a good soldier. I’m not the only one people are looking up to, you know.”

“I know. That’s what scares me.”

“What? Respect?”

I gaze up at him.

“I guess so. When people respect you, they expect a lot from you. There’s so much responsibility. People’s lives are at stake.” I sigh. “I don’t feel up to being a hardcore rebel leader all the time.”

Chris takes both of my hands in his.

“That’s why people like you. You’re human, but you try to do the right thing no matter what.” His eyes flick to the edge of camp, where the women are doing their daily food preparation. “Always try to do the right thing. Go with your gut instinct.”

“I’m not a leader like you are.”

“Yes, you are. Just in a different way.” His expression softens. “You give good advice, too. I’ll see if I can get in contact with the Rangers’ leader. It might be helpful if we combine forces at some point. But until then, we need to get ready to hit that supply depot.”

“How far away is it?”

“About twenty miles. It’s out of the foothills. On the edge of the valley outside a little town called Sanger.” He looks at me. “Are you up for that?”

I roll my eyes. Leaving the safety of the hills is a major risk.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just thought I’d ask,” he chuckles, standing up. “We should hit it soon, before they get a chance to set everything up completely. They’ll be beefing up security anyway because of what we’ve been doing in the area, plus the area will be crawling with Omega patrols.”

I agree. Ever since the Freedom Fighters have started fighting back against Omega, more militia groups have formed. All people needed to see was one group taking the initiative and hitting back at the enemy. Omega’s got an entire state full of rebels and guerilla fighters on their hands these days. It can’t be easy being an invading army. Not with people like us around.

But what I haven’t said out loud is that Omega is gearing up to receive backup. Sophia and I figured that out a long time ago when we were imprisoned in the labor camp. It’s obvious they’re going to need more manpower if they’re going to kill off the rebels completely, anyway. Chris knows this. I know this. Most of the people in this militia know it.

The question is, what will we do when Omega’s backup does arrive?

What kind of backup is it going to be? Where will it come from?

Can we survive it?