"You all look like hell. How bad is it out there?" the general asked.
"A warzone," Dan said. "No supplies, no water, no food, hundreds of thousands of refugees trying to survive on nothing."
"And our enemies?"
"Mixed in with the rest of the survivors, like any good insurgency. Their numbers are far greater than anything we ever imagined."
And far better well armed, Brady added silently. The fighters were armed as well as the army and the government's special protective services and in many cases, with the same equipment.
The general nodded, looking grim but not surprised.
As they neared a pentagon-shaped building, Brady took in the clumsy metal door that didn't quite fit the frame. The access pad appeared as though it had been shot with a laser gun; it was blackened and melted. He shared another look with Dan. All was not quite as it seemed in the peaceful compound. The laser markings matched similar damage seen on the eastern wall, which they found when they circled the compound.
One of the two guards pulled the heavy door open. The interior of the command hub was darkened, aside from the light of systems and screens on all the walls. It was cool and manned by several people in fed uniforms.
"Turn that off, Lana," the general ordered in a softer tone as he glanced towards a woman manning the screen on the left. Imaging of the mountain flashed off and was replaced by a screen full of colors and letters Brady didn't understand.
"Are these the troops?" a blond woman asked, dressed in tactical clothing and sporting advanced weaponry that reminded Brady just how elite the positions in the special protective service were considered. Their recruits came from the elite class, while the regular army came from the poor. Even the regular military's special forces teams were not as well equipped as the pretty, frowning woman before them.
"Elise, you're taking your men out to the west side for supplies tonight," the general replied.
"Wonderful idea, sir," the blond replied with enough irreverent sarcasm that Brady was taken aback.
"You're in the dungeon next week," the general muttered. "I'd trade you all for two men like these here."
The woman named Elise grimaced but made no response.
"Do you have the keypad?"
Brady whipped around at the familiar voice, staring at the petite brunette before him in surprise. He sought to remember what the general had called her. He knew her as Angel. Her expression was grave, her brown eyes solemn. The woman before him was younger than he expected and cute in an elfin way, with large eyes, a tapered chin, delicate jaw line, and expressive brow. She was neatly dressed with dual ranks, that of Special Assistant to the VP and Special Assistant to Mr. Tim's position. His gaze lingered on the dual ranks, and he almost smiled.