State of Alliance (6 page)

The firing continues until the chopper pulls back, veering off course and disappearing into the sky until it’s nothing but a black speck in the distance. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and look back at Elle. Her expression is still closed, but her grip on Bravo’s harness is vise-like.

“We’re okay,” I tell her. “We’ve got more firepower than one chopper does.”

Elle says nothing. She steps back from the window. I turn around and look at Chris. He shakes his head.

I know what he is thinking.

There is no such thing as safe. Not anymore.

We reach San Jose. It’s similar to the train station in Sacramento. The station is tall, made of brick, and fronted with outdoor passenger platforms. When the train slows down, screeching and rumbling to a stop in a cloud of steam, everyone gets ready. My security detail gathers around me. A human shield. Guns up and ready to go. I feel trapped inside the wall. I would rather be on the outside, protecting someone else.

We move through the open doors and step onto the loading platform. The air is crisp and clean. A line of Humvees and retrofitted armored vehicles are waiting, rumbling. I am brought to an armored Suburban in the center of the lineup. The door opens, I climb in, and Uriah and Chris follow. The rest of the security detail spreads out among the cars. I see Elle.

“You,” I say. “Come with me.”

She nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sophia and Vera are in another vehicle.

The Suburban is air-conditioned. It smells of worn leather, sweat and gunpowder. The driver is a National Guardsman wearing dark glasses. Chris sits up front, next to him. Uriah is in the seat beside me. I am sitting in the car in uniform, armored up, gun in my lap. A Senator I may be, but I am still a Commander, and this is still a battlefield.

I look at Elle. She is quiet and observational as she sits next to her dog. The door slams shut. I ghost a small smile in her direction.

“You doing okay, Elle?” I ask.

“Yes, Senator,” she says.

“Call me Commander,” I reply.

“Yes, Commander.” Elle’s lips curve upward and she looks out the window.

The convoy rolls out.

As we pull out of the parking lot, onto the battle-scarred road, I am overcome with a profound sense of premonition. I try to shake the negative vibe, but it lingers as we hit Highway 101, southbound toward Monterey.

I want to talk to Chris about it, but now is not the time. I am on my own with this one.

The convoy keeps rolling, maintaining a steady travel time.

“Trouble ahead, Commander,” the driver says.

I take my gaze from the side window and direct it through the windshield. We are not in the front of the convoy, so I can’t see what is right in front of us. I crane my neck to see ahead of us, and I glimpse movement down the highway.

Great.

The radio crackles with activity.

“We’ve got possible rogue elements on the road ahead,” comes the report. It’s Vera. “We’re driving through, no stopping.”

Our driver tightens his grip on the wheel. Uriah releases the bolt on his rifle and tucks the stock into his shoulder. I hold my weapon, too, nervous tension tightening my muscles, sharpening my instincts.

“Omega?” Chris says into the radio.

“No. Rogue militia, maybe. Can’t tell. There’s only two people.”

“Two people?” Chris slams the radio speaker down. “Don’t stop,” he tells the driver. “No matter what. Keep going.”

We come to a small hill. The freeway curves over the knoll, giving me just enough of a view of the road before us so I can glimpse the enemy in our path. There are two pickup trucks. There is one on each side of the freeway. Two men wearing dark clothing and strips of black cloth wrapped around their heads are standing just in sight to the side of the freeway.

“Oh, my god,” I say. “It’s an ambush.”

Chris grabs the radio. “Get us out of here fast,” he says.

The convoy suddenly lurches forward. Usually a convoy moves along at pretty slow speeds – about fifteen to twenty miles per hour – but we are now
speeding along, scenery flashing by the window. I brace myself.

There are six vehicles ahead of us in the lineup. I have been cleverly hidden in a dark suburban that looks like three other transports in this convoy. The first two vehicles to pass between the two pickup trucks explode.

“They’ve got triggers in the road!” Elle screams. “Stop the car!!”

The Humvee in front erupts, a fiery mass hurtling down the road. Our driver veers out of the lineup, throwing us all into the door of the Suburban, slamming on the brakes. The vehicle nearly tips sideways as he spins us into a U-turn. Another vehicle is hit.

“They’ve booby-trapped the road!” Elle yells. “Back up, back up!”

We’re trying. Most of the convoy has spun around, putting distance between the detonations and us. But honestly…there could be explosives hidden anywhere in the road, right?

We back away. Our driver spins the wheels on the Suburban, leaving black marks on the cement. My heart races as I grasp the door handle to keep from
being flung to the other side of the vehicle. Elle looks at me, then at Chris.

“We’ve got to go around,” she says.

“The entire highway should have been secure,” Chris replies. “We had people
check
.” He looks at me. “We can’t deviate from our route. It will take too long, and there are too many risks.”

I lock gazes with Chris.

“We’ve got to push through,” I say. “We don’t have a choice.”

I look out the window. I can see Manny’s biplane flying watch over the convoy. “Get Manny on the radio,” I say. “He’s got a better visual on what’s going on down here than we do.”

Elle snaps her eyes up.

“Do you want me to check the road with Bravo?” she says. “That’s what we do. We can find the bomb triggers for you.”

I shake my head.

“Not yet. Let’s see what we’re dealing with first.”

Chris grabs the radio and contacts Manny. The connection is rife with static and the background noise of the wind whipping around the biplane.

“Manny, give me a visual,” Chris commands.

“You’ve got about a dozen unfriendly rogues on the east side of the freeway,” Manny replies, his voice crackling. “I don’t see any more than that. You’ve got more than enough manpower to take them out, but it’s the road I’m worried about. There could be more bombs.”

“We’ve already lost two vehicles,” I mutter.

Uriah shakes his head. “We can’t stop. They’ll fire on us. We have to take them out, then let Elle check the road with Bravo.”

“We’re not doing that,” I state. “We can’t stop for anything. That’s what they want us to do. They’re trying to take us all out at the same time.” I grab the radio and open my map. “We can take this side road through the coastal foothills and connect with the highway later on. It will take longer, but it will be away from the main drag. We can avoid this mess.”

“Manny,” I continue. “I’ve got a map in my hands and I see a way out of this. We’re going to backtrack to Dinosaur Point Road and take it through the hills. We can hook back up with the highway. I want you to fly ahead and keep us posted on what you see. If you see
anything
– even the wind blow through the trees – I want to know about it.”

“You got it, Commander,” Manny replies. “Hang tight and let me lead the way.”

I spin the map around and place my finger on a little road that winds through the hills, joining back up later with Highway 156 and Highway 101 – both viable routes into Monterey.

“We have no choice,” I say again.

Chris nods. He picks up the radio and informs the rest of the convoy of our decision. There is no argument. We will take the back roads. Manny will inform us of any activity further down the road.

My heart sinks into my stomach at the realization that at least two vehicles were blown up. At least a dozen people were killed. Vera and Sophia are okay, but there are already casualties. And we haven’t even started negotiations yet.

Chapter Six

“There she is,” Uriah mutters, whistling softly. “Beautiful.”

The ocean. It is a clear, sunny day. The white sand dunes are sparkling against the backdrop of the vast, blue Pacific Ocean. I haven’t been to the seashore in at least a year – and certainly not since the EMP and Omega invasion.

“Wow,” I breathe. “It’s stunning.”

The highway here is wide and empty, parallel to the beach. In the distance, the Monterey Peninsula is clearly visible, jutting into the harbor like the tip of a half moon. Old beachside hotels line the freeway. There are military checkpoints at regular intervals. We have spent hours navigating through the back roads, connecting with Highway 156 and southbound Highway 101, avoiding ambushes and potential problem areas. Manny has been flying in front of our convoy all day, keeping us updated on ground activity.

I touch Chris’s knee and force a smile. A bit of the tension between us dissipates. With each near-death experience, we are reminded that even if we are having difficulties in our relationship – we are glad to
be alive, and we are still a team. It is an encouragement to me, even during these hard times.

I lean close to the window, almost pressing my nose against the glass as we enter the city limits. The convoy rumbles to the right-hand side of the road and we take an exit onto
Del Monte
. We roll through the city.

There is a jogging trail and pretty, overgrown parks. We pass three more checkpoints. There are National Guardsmen and militiamen and women everywhere, in the parks, near the buildings. The streetlights have been replaced with military intersections, with National Guard troops directing traffic, waving us through to what’s called the “staging area” for our convoy.

The road curves, and a long wrought-iron fence becomes visible. A thrill of excitement and raw anxiety shoots through me.

This is where the next
chapter
begins.

The convoy rolls around the curve in the road. We come to a gated entrance. The compound is surrounded with thick, green trees. I see an on-base military store and gas station, a post-office with glass
windows and a large manmade pond swarming with noisy geese.

The convoy halts. We pass another checkpoint at the front guardhouse. National Guardsmen check the vehicles and ask for the identification of our senior officers. One of the younger soldiers makes eye contact with me through the window. He smiles slightly before turning away.

“They’re happy you’re here,” Uriah mutters.

“They’re happy
we’re
here,” I correct.

Uriah gives me a strange look and the convoy moves forward. The gate opens and we roll into a large parking lot, heavily shrouded with more of the same trees – sweet smelling coastal pines, palms and oaks. The convoy stops. The engines shut off.

It’s time to go.

Uriah holds the door open for me as I climb outside, into the clear sunlight. The air is clean. I smell the salty spray of the ocean in the wind.

Chris takes my arm and turns me toward him.

“No matter what happens,” he says quietly, “we’re a team.”

I open my mouth to reply, but I am interrupted by a harsh, “Chris
Young
?”

Chris removes his hand from my arm and we both look at a man approaching us. He’s tall – almost as tall as Chris – with blonde hair. His hair is so blonde, it’s nearly white. He’s dressed in dark fatigues and a blue shirt that says: SEALS.

“Devin?” Chris says.

The man stops and salutes us. Chris nods respectfully, following military protocol. And then a huge, sincere smile spreads across his face. “Devin! Son of a gun!”

He embraces the man and they start laughing. I trade a blank glance with Uriah. He shrugs. Vera, Andrew, Sophia and Elle come around the back of the convoy just in time to glimpse the two men hugging.

“I can’t believe you’re
here
, man,” the guy says.

“Yeah, neither can I,” Chris replies. He takes a step back and gestures to me. “Devin, this is Cassidy Hart. Cassie, this is Devin May. We went through SEAL training together.”

“Oh, back in the old days, huh?” I quip.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Devin says, taking my hand. “You always knew how to pick up a lady, Chris.” He mock kisses my hand. “This is your team?” He nods at Uriah and the rest of the crew.

“Most of them,” Chris answers.

“Well, welcome to the Naval Postgraduate School of Monterey,” Devin answers. He looks powerful, strong and…loud. “I’m Lieutenant May, but you can call me Devin, Senator.” He winks at me. “We’re going to keep you safe and sound here for the Negotiations with the Pacific Northwest Alliance, and lucky for
you
, I’ve been assigned to make sure you find your way around the compound without getting lost.”

“I’ve spent too much time here to get lost,” Chris replies, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t tell my superior officer that,” Devin says. “It’s a need-to-know kind of thing, don’t you think?”

I laugh.

“Okay, let’s move this party inside,” Devin says, serious. “The building’s interior is a lot safer than out here.”

“This entire city is secure,” Sophia suddenly says. “Who’s going to hurt us inside the Naval compound?”

Devin gives her a look.

“You should know better, soldier,” he answers.

I can’t disagree with that.

As we turn away from the convoy, I notice for the first time the beautiful white barrack buildings on each side of us. It’s structured like a fortress. Two buildings on each side, and in the middle, a central edifice with white, Spanish-style pillars and steps. I like it already.

“How many times have you been here?” I ask Chris.

His mood seems to have temporarily lifted, thanks to Devin’s appearance.

“Many times,” he replies.

“That’s an understatement,” Devin cuts in. “Chris and I used to hang out at Cannery Row at night. Remember, man? Those were the days.”

Chris doesn’t answer.

“Man, when they told me you’d be coming
here
, I couldn’t believe it was
you
,” Devin continues. “I mean, I’d heard about your work with the militias, but I didn’t think I’d see you again. Since the invasion, the world’s been cut down. I never see people I used to know anymore.”