State of Pursuit (10 page)

“Thank you for your help,” I say. “This shortcut saved us hours.”

“Yes, it did.” He raises an eyebrow. “Commander?”

“Yes?”

He pauses. Then, “Bring Commander Young back alive.”

I stare at him. I’m not going to ask how he knows that we are here to rescue Chris. I’m not going to confirm or deny the information. I simply nod slowly, salute him, and watch as he silently returns to the hills. I watch
all
of them until they vanish from sight, reminding myself that yes – they were real. It wasn’t some kind of weird dream.

“Where are we meeting our Underground contact?” Vera asks.

“About a mile,” I say, pointing to portion of trees and burned houses in the distance.

“How far are we from Hollywood?” Andrew comments.

“Around seven miles, I think.” I shrug. “I never used to spend time in Hollywood, except on weekends. Sometimes I’d visit the Boulevard with friends and see a movie.”

Oh, those were the days.

And to think I used to complain about them.

“Lead the way, Manny,” I say.

He nods, slipping the flask back into his duster, keeping it folded inside of his flight cap. I ease Katana down the trail and we dip behind the mountain again, out of sight. We could shave a few hours off of our journey if we cut right down the mountain, but that would leave us exposed to anyone watching the hills.

And after all of the trouble we’ve had, the last thing I want is attention.

We push forward. The closer we get to meeting our contact, the more nervous I become. The hills become smaller, and we enter into a residential area. Toluca Lake, according to our maps. The houses are gorgeous. Mansions. Much of the shrubbery here is either overgrown or dead. Most of the houses have been vandalized. Streaks of graffiti line rooftops and fence posts.

“Do we ride on the road or what?” Andrew asks.

“I guess we don’t have a choice,” I shrug.

We take the horses down the street; hooves clip clopping against the asphalt. It’s a sound that probably hasn’t been heard in Los Angeles for a hundred years. It’s funny how things go full circle. You eliminate something from culture completely and then
bam
. Here it is again.

“This was super high end living,” Vera comments. “Toluca Lake was a celebrity city.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say. “I used to visit this place with my mom.”

When I was a girl, we’d drive up and down every street, looking at the houses; pretending we were millionaires and that we could own any property we wanted. Come to think of it, it’s one of the only happy memories I have of spending time with my mother.

“What are you smiling about?” Manny asks.

“Nothing,” I whisper. “Just thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow. But he says nothing.

As we continue, I tighten my grip on Katana’s reins. The eerie silence of the neighborhood is creeping me out. The tension is thick in the air. At some point, something bad
has
to happen. It always does. I would be surprised if something
didn’t
happen.

I’m not exactly a good karma magnet.

“Woodbridge,” Manny announces. “We’re here.”

A faded, dark brown sign sits on the edge of an abandoned park. Trees and bushes are overgrown. The pond in the middle of the park – once beautiful and well maintained – has only a few inches of stagnant water remaining. Clouds of mosquitos hover over the surface.

“This used to be beautiful, too,” I remark.

Coming here and seeing it like this…well, it’s disturbing. I feel like I’ve fallen into the zombie apocalypse. We’re stuck in a different dimension, but it’s actually the sad reality.

“Stay on your horses,” Manny warns. “If we’ve played this right – and I think we have – our contact should be on the other side. By the playground.”

Vera mutters, “We come to Los Angeles and meet up with an Underground contact in front of
playground
equipment.”

“If it bothers you so much, you can always go back to Fresno,” Andrew snaps.

Vera looks surprised to hear him talk that way to her. Instead of coming up with a stinging retort, she shuts her mouth and sets her jaw. Silent mode.

Good. Silence is good.

And then I see him. He’s sitting on the edge of a park bench on the right of the playground equipment. He’s wrapped up in a black coat and scarf, watching us. Motionless. Behind him is a row of wrecked housing.

“Is that our man?” Uriah asks.

“I guess so,” I say. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Manny leads the way.

I bring Katana to a halt and dismount. The grass is dead – it snaps under my boots. The man on the bench doesn’t move. He stares at me, unmoving.

As I get closer, Katana hesitates. I catch a whiff of something. It’s probably the stagnant pond – setting water smells disgusting.

“I’m Yankee One,” I say, palms up. “And this is my team.”

The man doesn’t move. In fact, he doesn’t even
blink
.

I step closer. His skin is pale. I sniff the air.

Oh, God. One eye is red and glassy, and I notice a purple bruise on the side of his face. He’s dead.

“That is
disgusting
,” Vera complains.

“So much for our contact,” Uriah says. He dismounts his horse and studies the corpse. “He’s been dead for a couple of days – no longer than that.”

“Do you think Omega did this?” Vera wonders.

“No. Gangs, most likely,” Manny replies. “If it were Omega, they would have questioned and tortured him before he died. This fellow looks like he was hit in the head once.” Manny examines the dead man’s head. “Yes. Blunt force trauma.”

“Are you a doctor now, Manny?” Vera asks, blasé.

“As a matter of fact-”

“-We can take a trip down memory lane later,” I interrupt. “Somebody left him here for a reason.”

“So we could find him,” Andrew states. “It’s meant to scare us.”

“Well…” I look around. “Are we scared?”

No one answers. I look around at my team, alert and in defensive formation, awaiting threats. Waiting for my word.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” I surmise.

In truth, I’m quaking on the inside. Our contact is dead, which means we’ll have to find somewhere to take the horses before we head into the city on foot. And anybody who is sadistic enough to leave a dead man sitting upright on a park bench
does
scare me.

I’m not entirely fearless.

“He was supposed to take us to the Way House,” Vera says, tapping the dead man’s shoe. “Now what do we do? What do we do with the horses?”

“Commander, on your six o’clock,” Uriah says.

I turn quickly, noting the urgency in his voice. A man is standing on the edge of the park. His hands are up, showing that he is unarmed. My militia is already on him, surrounding him as quickly and efficiently as a pack of wolves.

The man is dressed in sandy combat fatigues and a leather jacket. His jet-black hair is shaggy and overgrown. I blink, recognition dawning on me.

“Oh, my God,” I say. “Alexander Ramos.”

I don’t even think about what I do next. I cross the distance between Alexander and I. I throw my arms around his neck and give him a tight, relieved hug. He doesn’t return the hug – but he doesn’t shove me away, either. I take that as a fairly positive sign.

“How is this
possible
?” I whisper.

Alexander Ramos is supposed to be dead. Yet here he is, alive. “Ramos?” Derek grabs his hand. “What happened, man? What are you doing in Toluca Lake?”

“We thought you were
dead
,” Vera states matter-of-factly.

“Technically, you
are
,” Manny mutters.

“Long story,” Alexander replies gruffly. He’s purely non-emotional about the reunion. Unsurprising. He was never the touchy-feely type. But I can bet that if Sophia Rodriguez had known that we would find Alexander on this mission, she would have come with us.

“Are you supposed to be our Underground contact?” Andrew asks.

“I am,” Alexander confirms.

“Who’s the dead guy on the bench, then?”

“He
was
your contact.” Alexander looks right at me. “He didn’t come back to base, so they sent me out.”

I exhale. Yet another man dies this day.

Suck it up, girl
.

“We should get moving, then,” I say. “We’ve had enough run-ins with gangs and mercenaries on the way here.”

“Mount up,” Alexander commands. “Cassidy, I’ll ride with you.”

I pull myself onto Katana’s saddle. She snorts softly. He swings into the saddle behind me, keeping an arm around my waist. Six months ago I would have thought this was awkward. Now it’s just standard procedure.

“Go that way,” Alexander points, gesturing to a boulevard that shoots through a once prestigious neighborhood of mansions and apartment complexes. “We’ll go about two miles before we hit the Way House.”

I tap Katana’s flanks with my boots and she trots forward. Considering the long journey she’s been on – that
all
the horses have been on – she’s holding up well. But she’s tired.

“So are you going to tell us how you’re still alive?” I ask. “Or are you going to keep it a secret?”

“It’s a secret,” he answers. “For now.”

“Oh, come on, Ramos…we’ve had a long trip. At least give us a hint.”

If he’s smiling, I can’t see it.

“Later,” is all he says. But I do notice that he searches the platoon several times. He’s looking for Sophia, I
guess. And when he doesn’t find her, he asks, “Where’s Rodriguez?”

I answer, “She didn’t come.”

He doesn’t seem to believe me. “She always comes,” he says.

“Well…she didn’t come this time.”

“Why not?”

“She’s dealing with issues.”

“She’s a basket case,” Vera comments.

I shoot her a look. She shrugs.

“What happened that I don’t know about?” Alexander asks.

I pause for a few moments. Then, “Jeff is dead.”

“
What
?”

“And so is Max.”

Alexander says nothing. After a few moments of heavy silence he says,

“And Commander Young…do we know for sure that he’s alive?”

“No. But that’s why we’re here.”

“It could be a fool’s errand.”

“It could be.”

“Let me guess: the rescue unit was your idea.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“Yes,” I say. “But they volunteered.”

“And you’re in charge?”

“I was elected.”

He grumbles something that I can’t hear.

“How’s that working out for you?” he asks.

“It is what it is,” I reply.

We ride about two miles up the road, coming to an oversized lot closed in with a stone security wall and thick shrubbery. It’s impossible to see what’s inside. The front gate rolls open as we approach.

Obviously somebody has been watching and waiting for us.

We take the horses inside, coming to a halt on a huge cobblestone driveway. A Spanish-style mansion is surrounded by bushes and trees. Soldiers are milling around the front yard. They approach us and take the reins of the horses. Alexander dismounts and I follow suit, keeping Katana with me.

“This is a Way House, huh?” I say. “Nice.”

“It belonged to Jay Leno at one time, so I’ve been told,” Alexander remarks. “But that’s just a rumor.” He pats Katana’s flank. “Good horse.”

“How many men did you start with, Cassidy?” he asks.

I look at my platoon, weathered and beaten by the stress of the journey.

“Thirty,” I say.

“You’ve got twenty-six, now.” He tilts his head. “Not bad, Hart.”

I don’t agree. Losing just a single person is losing one too many.

“It wasn’t easy getting here,” I state. “Between mercenaries and Mad Monk Territory, we’re lucky.”

“The Mad Monks are leftover remnants of mercenaries that betrayed Omega after the first attack on San Diego,” Alexander says. “Surprisingly, they’ve become good allies of the militias.”

“Wait. The attack on San Diego?” I reply. “Are you talking about the attack by
Mexico
on Omega?”

He nods. “Yes. A number of their forces…defected.”

“Why?”

“Why do any men defect?”

“Because they’re cowards,” Vera interjects, folding her arms across her chest.

“Or because they know something that the leaders don’t,” I murmur. “Or they’re in it for the money and the power. What do you know about Mexico, Alexander? Are they on our side?”

“There’s a lot that’s unclear right now. All we know is that Omega tried to push into Northern Mexico and Mexican forces pushed them right out. Clear into San Diego.”

“Is San Diego out of Omega’s hands?” I ask.

Alexander shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he replies. “Our radio hasn’t been working. The last news we
received was a week ago, and that was the message telling us that you would be headed this way.”

Darn. It seems like everyone is in the dark about the Mexico question.

“These people will take care of the horses,” Alexander says. “They’ll be waiting for you when you come back.”

I slowly pet Katana’s nose. Her big, brown eyes study my face. “I’ll see you again,” I promise. “This isn’t goodbye.”