The plane lurches forward, bouncing, shaking, gaining speed. The tail rises, dipping us forward. It feels like we’re going to flip over headfirst. I grit my teeth, staring at the wall of trees at the edge of the meadow. It’s getting closer. And those trees are big. I close my eyes, praying for Manny to pull through…or in this case, up. A buoyant feeling rises in the pit of my stomach, the sensation of lifting into the air. The engine races, red sparks spitting out of the exhaust. I open my eyes just in time to see the trees flash by below us, a cold wind whipping my hair in circles. An invisible force presses me back against the seat. The tips of the pine trees flit by.

We’re airborne!

I tilt my head back and look at the sky as we rise, the camp disappearing into darkness. There are no lights to give the location away from the air. The peaks of the high Sierras tower thousands of feet into the sky, miles high. They look ethereal, otherworldly. The vastness of the open space is overwhelming. I’ve never been on an airplane before. How many people can say they took their first flight in a biplane in the mountains right smack in the middle of a post-apocalyptic warzone?

“How do you land this thing if there are no lights?” I ask. I have to yell to be heard above the wind resistance and the engine noise.

“When we get back, they’ll have lights for us,” Manny replies.

“How?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid! Just enjoy the ride!”

I force myself to take another peek over the edge of the plane. What if the engine dies? What if Omega sees us? What was I thinking?

That you could have a little fun for once in your life.

“What are we looking for?” I yell, trying to distract myself from the height.

Manny bangs on the back of the seat. I see that he’s wearing flat headphones. Another set is hanging just in front of me, right below my knee. I grab a pair and snap them on, instantly tuning into Manny’s chuckling, excited voice.

“What are we looking for?” I repeat.

“Anything we can find!” he replies, right over the crackle of the radio static. “Troop movements, suspicious lights, anything out of the ordinary that warrants our attention.”

After a few minutes I settle into my seat and loosen my hold on the side of the cockpit. The little biplane totters and rumbles through the air. I glance behind me. Manny’s hair is streaming around his face, right along with the comical earflaps. He looks halfway insane, but I realize something now: this is where Manny is most comfortable. Up in the air. Away from the war.

There’s nothing up here that can hurt us, after all.

Right?

“See that speck of clearing down to the right?” he yells.

“Yeah! What is it?”

“It’s a lake. Or what’s left of it.” The plane slowly veers right over the clearing, a dark, smooth smudge in the middle of a sea of trees. “It was a campground, just like Camp Freedom. Only this one was abandoned and unfortified. The lake is just a cesspool now.”

“Is there a place to land?” I ask.

“Only during daylight hours, and even then I wouldn’t go down that way.”

“Why?”

“Rogue Militia.”

I strain to see the lake as we pass over it, nothing more than a dark spot from this distance. “Rogue Militia?”

“Thieves and bandits. Organized paramilitary units that rob and murder innocent people.”

The plane eases to the left, a current of freezing air washing over the nose. I throw my head back and smile despite myself.

“I knew you’d like it up here,” Manny says triumphantly.

“You didn’t know anything,” I reply, grinning. “You were just hoping.”

“True, true. But what’s wrong with a little hope now and again?

Nothing at all.

Our scouting mission over the mountains lasts for what seems like hours. As soon as the first hint of dawn appears on the horizon, Manny changes the direction of the plane. We’re heading home. We haven’t seen anything suspicious. No troop movements. No sign of Omega. Not that I could have seen anything with my untrained eye if I’d wanted to, but I like to believe that I have enough skill these days to spot something out of the ordinary.

By the time we make it back to camp, it’s early morning. I feel alive, invigorated. And as I see the meadow from the sky, a sense of calm and peace wash over me. Peace about my decision to leave with Chris and join the National Guard. Peace about my father staying behind to lead the Rangers and protect Camp Freedom. For the first time in a long time, I feel free. Like I have a choice.

Like I’m independent. Truly independent.

The plane slowly lowers to the ground. Everything seems to flash by faster as we get closer to the meadow. The trees, the sky, the grass. When the wheels actually hit the earth, we bounce up and down. Instead of being afraid, I laugh. What a ride. What an exhilarating experience!

Manny coasts the plane down the meadow, makes a tottering U-turn, then slowly his beloved aircraft comes to a halt. The big engine cuts out. He stands up in the cockpit, takes off his cap and goggles and turns to me, grinning from ear to ear.

“And that, my dear, is how it feels to be on top of the world,” he says.

I climb out of my seat, jump onto the wing, and hop into the grass. I throw the goggles back into the cockpit and look around. Everything seems so big down here. Up in the sky it all looked so tiny. Like miniature toys.

“Manny?”

He looks at me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say. “I needed it.”

He nods slowly, shoving one hand into the pocket of his leather duster. He strolls off, humming Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd under his breath. I walk in the other direction, away from the meadow, back towards the barracks. Nobody has risen yet at this early hour, although the clatter of Manny’s biplane had to have woken at least one person.

I slip back into the Bear Paw. Sophia is still sound asleep, one arm hanging off the bed, snoring softly. I crawl onto my bunk and press my face against the pillow, closing my eyes.

I’ve made my decision.

And I’m sticking to it.

The night before the convoy leaves, Chris and I take a walk around the edge of the compound. It’s dark enough that we can hold hands without looking unprofessional in front of the militia. And right now I really need to hold his hand.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to Dad,” I say. “He hasn’t spoken to me since the meeting with Commander Rivera.”

“He will. He’s just hurt, Cassie.”

“I’m not doing this to hurt him.”

“He knows that. I know that. Everybody knows that but you.”

I stop at the fence, gazing at the trees beyond the metal border. “I know what I need to do, I just want him to understand why.”

“You can’t force him to understand,” Chris replies, drawing me to his chest. “Your dad can’t be forced to do anything. You can only be honest with him. That’s all you can do.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, inhaling his scent.

“You’re right.” I sigh. “I need to say goodbye to your family.”

“I already told them goodbye.” His heart beats faster, a sign of discomfort. Saying goodbye to the family he searched for — just like I searched for my father — must be enormously difficult. Because in this climate, you never know if you’ll see each other again. “They understand. I have a responsibility to lead my men.”

“It’s not just that,” I say. “You have a responsibility to fight wherever and whenever you can. You have skills that most of us don’t have.”

He grins softly.

“Yeah?” He kisses my cheek. “Says who?”

“Says me.” I trace the curve of his jaw with my thumb. “I guess I should go alone to say goodbye.”

“You should.” He raises an eyebrow. “But I can come if you want me to.”

“No. I need to do this myself.” I stand on tiptoes and press my lips against his for a brief, passionate kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”