I’m trying to wake up. Don’t rush me.

Light slips into the darkness, and with it, feeling. I feel cold. I feel thirsty. I feel seriously in need of a hot shower.

Yeah. That’s my first thought when my eyes open and I find myself staring at a gray ceiling. “Finally. Geez, it took you long enough.”

As I focus on the scenery around me, I realize for the first time that my head is crammed against a wall. And I’m moving. Well, bouncing would be a more accurate term. A figure is crouched at my feet. She’s got dark skin, short brown hair and glittering hazel eyes.

“You’re not very polite,” she states.

I sit up, feeling dizzy, and look around. Somebody’s ankle is pressing against the back of my head.

Wait.

What?

I jerk straight up, overwhelmed by the smell of human sweat. It’s beyond gross. I’m crushed against the back wall of some sort of truck, and everywhere around me, people are standing next to each other, packed tightly like sardines in a can.

“What? I don’t…who…?” I start rambling. I’m disoriented, terrified and sick. All of those lovely emotions rolled into one. “What’s going on?”

Nobody pays any attention to me and I can’t move, because I’m stuck between too many people. The air is humid and difficult to inhale. It reeks like vomit and urine, too. I gag and roll to my side, crawling on my hands and knees.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the girl asks.

I turn back to face her. I’d forgotten she was here.

“Who are you?” I pant, shaking.

It’s hot. The only cool air is coming from above the heads of the standing crowd, so I try to stand. When I do, I fall over and hit the ground. Real graceful. The back of the truck is open. Everyone is fenced behind a metal mesh gate. It looks almost like chicken wire. It’s dark outside, and I can’t make out anything more than flashes of trees whizzing by.

“Sophia,” she says. The girl is crouched in a feral position, studying my face. “My name is Sophia. What’s yours?”

“My… name?” I’m clutching the floor like an old woman on a rollercoaster. “Um… right. My name.” I meet Sophia’s gaze. She’s surprisingly calm. Considering the fact that we’re crammed into the back of a giant semi truck, I’m impressed. “I’m Cassidy.”

“Nice to meet you.” She crawls over to me and takes my hand. “Don’t worry. It’s okay to be scared, sometimes.”

“What’s going on?’ I whisper.

“Omega is taking us to prison,” she shrugs. “Or something like that.”

“I don’t remember how I got here,” I say. “I was running…I think. I got shot.”

“No, not shot,” Sophia replies. “Just shocked, plus you got hit on the head. You’re okay. But you were kind of delirious when they shoved you back here. I made sure you didn’t get squished when they crammed everybody inside.”

I stare at her, rubbing the sore spot on my temple.

“Why?”

She looks down. “You looked like you needed somebody to help you.”

For some reason, that makes me want to bawl my eyes out. Somebody besides Chris actually cared enough to make sure that I didn’t suffocate in the back of a truck. A red-letter day for Cassidy Hart.

“Thank you,” I say.

She flashes an embarrassed smile.

“No problem.” She huddles closer. “Where did they pick you up?”

“I was in a trailer park,” I reply, biting my lip. “They must have had a patrol in the area. They probably saw me walking around outside. Stupid me. I should have stayed inside like he said!”

“Like who said?”

“My…” I trail off. “Chris. He’s going to be mad when he finds out I’m missing.”

That’s an understatement. It takes a few minutes for the harsh reality of my situation to sink in, but once it does, it hits me like a bowling ball in the chest. I’ve been caught by Omega. I’m crammed in the back of a semi-truck with a thousand other people. We’re being taken to prison — or something along those lines — and the chances of me living to see the light of day are slim.

Maybe this isn’t such a red-letter day after all.

I fold my arms around my chest and try to take some deep, slow breaths. It doesn’t really help. There isn’t a Zen zone on this side of the planet that could calm me down. I’m being shipped off to my death.

And everybody in this truck knows it.

“I’m from New York,” Sophia whispers, scooting close to me. “I was on vacation in California when the EMP hit. My family is still in New York somewhere.”

Her eyes shine with tears. Tears I sympathize with.

“I heard our military is fighting somewhere on the East Coast,” I reply.

Somebody shifts and kicks me in the ribs. I pull away and huddle back towards the wall, Sophia right beside me. I keep my eyes closed to avoid looking at the sickening rocking motion of the truck.

“Yes,” Sophia answers. “I’ve heard that. I’ve also heard that it’s a lot worse on the East Coast than it is over here.”

“Why?”

“They say it’s an active battle zone right now.”

What’s left of the color in my face drains away.

“What kind of battle zone?” I ask.

“Don’t know. By the time news gets here, it’s all nothing but rumors.” She sighs. “Could be nuclear war. Maybe. But I’ve heard that Omega’s actually got a huge front of troops moving in over there.”

Yeah. The sick feeling I just had?

It’s back.

I cover my mouth to keep from throwing up again.

“You can’t be serious,” I mutter. But I know she is. And deep down, I knew something big was going down on the East Coast. I just didn’t know what.

We still don’t, but that gives me a little bit more of an idea.

“Where do these people come from?” I say.

“I heard—” Sophia begins, but closes her mouth. “I’ll tell you later.”

Several of the prisoners in the truck are listening to our conversation a little too closely. And by the way everybody here is dressed — not to mention the way they smell — I’m guessing they’ve had a way worse day than me.

“Where are they taking us?” I ask instead.

“Don’t know. Did they pick you up in Squaw Valley?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Same. I was with a community, though. What’s left of the city was living in a neighborhood just off the road. Omega came, rounded us up, threw us in a truck and now we’re here.” She clenches her fists. “They’re not looking for people to kill anymore.”

“Then what are we here for?”

Sophia’s eyes narrow.

“To work.”

I don’t get a warm and fuzzy feeling from that statement either. All of this is way too much to take in, so I focus on putting myself into a mental box and locking everybody out. I think about Chris and only Chris.

What is he doing right now? He’ll discover that I’m gone when he comes back from his hunting expedition into the great unknown. He’ll be mad at me at first. He’ll think I went looking for him. (Well, technically I did, but that’s not how I got caught.) And then he’ll flip to battle mode and start searching for me. But how will he be able to track a truck? How will be ever find me?

He won’t, a little voice says. Its name is common sense. You’re on your own.

No way. I’m not alone. Chris will find me.

Even if he does find you, you’ll be dead by the time he does.

I shudder. Common sense really needs to take a hike.

All through the night, the truck keeps moving. When the soft glow of morning hits the opening at the end of the trailer, I strain to see where we are. I can’t see outside, though. Not with the enormous amount of arms and legs blocking my view. Sophia falls asleep on my shoulder. I’m too exhausted to shake her off, and besides. The girl did take care of me when I was unconscious. The least I can do is be a human pillow.

And then we stop.

I freeze. Doors slam. Men’s voices echo outside the trailer. The rumble of nearby engines. Sophia snaps awake beside me. She grabs my arm, looking scared.