I have so many questions.

“Alright, up we go…” Chris pulls me into a sitting position, pressing his hand against my side. Something breaks in his voice. “Don’t let go, Cassie.”

Jeff is standing on the running board outside the door. He helps pull me out of the cab.

“What are we doing?” I ask, dizzy.

“We have to hoof it,” Chris replies. “The roads are blocked. Too many patrols.”

“It’s too far,” I say.

“We can do it.”

Well, they can. I’ll just curl up in a ball and die right here, thank you very much. Yet something in the back of my mind says: Don’t let go. Don’t give up. I force myself to keep my eyes open as Chris supports me with his body. I feel like I’m inside out. I’m hot, lightheaded. Everything is too loud and too fast.

What I would give to pick up the phone and call 9-1-1.

“Alpha One?” somebody calls for Chris.

A patrol is moving towards us from across the road. The gunfire from the battlefield is still audible from the other side of the hill. Our troops fall into formation to stop the patrol. My heart sinks. There’s no escape, is there?

“Hey, are you Alpha One?”

Chris turns. A platoon of Rangers are moving towards us from across the road. The Mountain Ranger with the feather in his cap is approaching Chris at the front of the group, his rifle in his hands. His face is obscured behind a scarf, and the only thing distinguishable about his appearance is his eyes.

“Eagle One?” Chris asks.

“At your service.”

Eagle One. The codename for the leader of the Mountain Rangers? It has to be. Looks like Chris is going to get his pow-wow after all. I sag against him, the energy draining out of me like helium out of a balloon. I can’t go any farther. I just can’t.

“Cassidy?” Eagle One takes a step towards us. Chris tenses, ready to defend me. An explosion of automatic gunfire deafens the world around us. The moon is shining brightly against the dark sky, illuminating the foothills, making everything look like a different planet. Or maybe I’m just getting delusional.

“Cassidy Hart,” Eagle One says, the voice familiar through the haze of pain. He’s pulling off his scarf, moving towards me. Chris moves me behind him, taking a defensive stance. Eagle One drops his rifle to the ground and opens his arms up, the scarf rolled up in his hands.

A wave of shock ripples through me. My eyes focus long enough to recognize his face. It’s him. Familiar brown eyes, laugh lines around the mouth, a military haircut under the broad rim hat. It can’t be. I have to be hallucinating.

I stare, openmouthed, only able to form a single word:

“Dad?”

I reach out to him just as the world around me starts to spin.

Everything goes black.

War sucks. Sure, it’s kind of necessary right now, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Last year, the only thing I would have known about warfare is what I’d seen in the movies or watched on the news. It was something imaginary. Something that didn’t really exist because I’d never personally experienced it.

The EMP changed everything.

How did I jump from being a struggling high school graduate to a guerilla warfighter in a turf war against an invading army? How did I end up falling in love with Chris? How did I end up surviving the EMP? How did I survive the first wave of Omega’s invasion forces when millions of other people died? How? Why? What? Where? When?

I feel like my life is nothing but a bunch of question marks. There’s so much we don’t know about Omega, but does it matter? They’re bad, and we’re good. The Freedom Fighters are doing the job that nobody else can or will do. We’re fighting back against tyranny. We’re taking a stand. This is our home. Nobody can take it away from us without a fight.

When I first met Chris last year, I told him that if he tried to hurt me, I’d shoot him right between the eyes. But I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a scared teenager trying to survive a terrifying attack on Los Angeles. I’d never been in a fight in my life. I never would have been able to defend myself.

Now I can.

So I guess the question is, what’s next? We can’t fight Omega forever…can we? I mean, how long can guerilla forces hide out in the foothills and attack Omega? Would we be better off just giving up and assimilating into Omega’s new society? Or should we keep fighting…even if the odds are against us?

I know what Chris’s answer would be. The same as mine.

We can’t give up. We have something worth fighting for. Our families, our homes, our freedom. Normalcy. Those things are precious. Priceless. I never realized how great my life was until everything got taken away. I guess that’ll teach me to take things for granted. Living as a nomad in the wilderness puts things in perspective real fast.

So we’ll keep fighting anyway. Not because it’s fun. Not because it’s easy. Because it’s the right thing to do. And really, that’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it? Doing the right thing.

I won’t give up hope, because that’s all we have left. Hope keeps us going. Believing in something bigger than ourselves. To give up would be suicidal, and personally, I’m not crazy about the idea of dying. Not yet. I’ve still got some fight left in me. We all do.

Omega’s about to find out the hard way.

DONE.

I feel like I just finished an epic 500-mile marathon. I can’t believe I’m finally done writing State of Chaos, and what a glorious feeling it is to finish editing the final page. So much work went into this installment of the Collapse Series, and I have a lot of people to thank. Pardon me while I take a breath…

Okay. Here we go.

First and foremost, I want to thank my dad, who was integral in helping this book get written. You are hands down the best editor and technical supervisor in the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re awesome. There would be no State of Chaos without you! Thank you mom, for being supportive, encouraging and always knowing exactly what to say when I’m having a hard day. I love you so much! Thank you Rocklin, for your sense of humor, and for pushing me to do things I would have been too scared to do on my own. You were right. (Don’t let it go to your head.)

Thank you grandma and grandpa, for all of your love and generosity. Thank you to the wonderful ladies (and gentlemen) of NA Alley: Carrie Butler, Juliana Haygert, L.G. Kelso, Diana Long, Lynn Rush, Victoria Smith, E.J. Wesley and Jaycee DeLorenzo. I enjoy working with all of you so much — what a ride we’ve been on this last year! Thanks to the Revolutionary War Veterans Association. Cassidy Hart learned a lot from your Project Appleseed event, and so did I. Thank you Scott Brandt and Joseph Krahn for introducing me to the RWVA and Project Appleseed in the first place. You guys are the best! And thanks for being such a patient teacher, Scott.

To every blogger and reviewer out there: THANK YOU. State of Emergency became a national bestseller because of people like you, and I will always have an extra special place in my heart for the blogosphere. And thank you, readers! I wouldn’t be an author if nobody read my books, and what a special audience I’ve been blessed with. Thank you for picking up State of Emergency and State of Chaos. Thanks for listening to Cassidy’s story. You’re amazing.

Last (but certainly not least!), I want to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, without whom I wouldn’t be a writer at all. This past year has been unbelievable. Busy, difficult, fun, heartbreaking, silly, and wonderful. I’m happy to be home at last.

God is good.