The days leading up to the attack are a blur of planning, of preparation. We have to wait for the tide to come in, to pass, before we can even think about leaving. It's a risk, a delay we can't afford, but we have no choice. We can't leave, only to be trapped in the desert when the surge comes. The three days are both an eternity and no time at all.
Arden, as promised, gives me the task of choosing the team. I have to pick ten people, ten survivors, to go with me on this mission. Ten people to risk their lives, to put their trust in me. It's a heavy burden, a responsibility I'm not sure I'm ready for. But it's mine, and I'll see it through.
I start by approaching Maren. She's a given, a necessity. Her skills, her knowledge of machines, of how they work, are invaluable. She's hesitant at first, but I'm persistent. I can't do this without her. She eventually agrees, her expression grim, determined.
Next is Alistair. There's no question about it, no hesitation. He's coming with me, whether he likes it or not. But I already know he's not exactly going to be a hard sell. He's been pushing for this, for a chance to strike back. This is his chance, and I'm not going to deny it to him.
The rest are harder. I have to consider their skills, their strengths, their weaknesses. I have to think about who can handle the pressure, who can be trusted to follow orders, who won't crack under the weight of what we're about to do. It's not an easy process, and there are arguments, disagreements. Some refuse, some volunteer, some I have to convince. It's a delicate balancing act, a test of my leadership, of my ability to make the hard choices.
In the end, the team is a mix of old and new, of experienced fighters and untested survivors. There's Kael, a quiet, stoic man with a talent for strategy, and Jess, a fiery, hot-headed woman with a sharpshooter's aim. There's Rhea, an older woman who looks exactly like what I imagine when I think of a secretary, but who apparently is ex-military. And Ben. He's in his thirties, I think. He was like me when he first arrived. Someone taken from high school.
Cal volunteered himself, in his typical way, peppered with Russian profanity. "Govno! If you think I'm staying behind while you go out there and get yourself killed, you're even stupider than you look."
Finally, a man named Leo. Most of what I know of him is that he's from one of the Koreas, and that Leo is just a nickname. He's the one who found this base, to begin with.
That's the ten. The best I could do, the best we have. It's not much, not enough. But it'll have to be.
The rest of the time is spent trying to figure out just what the hell I'm even doing. I'm not a military strategist, I'm not sure why I'm expected to lead people. Hell, I'm just a teenager-
Am... I?
Still a teenager? I... was nineteen. But I haven't been able to keep much track of time since... Eric and Mia... and-
I grit my teeth and shake my head. It doesn't matter. Nineteen or twenty or... whatever. I have to focus. Arden is believing in me for some reason, and now these people....
A hand appears in my hair. I blink, looking up to see Alistair. He's standing next to me, staring down at me with that unreadable expression of his. "Stop brooding. I'm much better at it than you." He drawls, turning his gaze back to the map on the table.
I huff, shaking my head, and his hand falls away. "I'm not brooding. I'm... thinking."
"You're overthinking." He corrects, his tone firm. "It's not a complicated plan, Sarah. We go in, we get the weapons, we get the supplies, we burn everything. Simple."
"Simple." I echo, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right. Of course. Why didn't I think of that?"
He smirks, and just when I think he's going to retort, he reaches out and hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. I'm not expecting it, and I gasp, my hands going to his chest to steady myself. "It'll be fine." He murmurs, his lips close to my ear. "We've got this."
I want to argue, to tell him that it's not that simple, that there are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. But his arms are warm, his body solid against mine, and I. Cannot think. At all.
"Al- Alistair-!"
"Relax." He whispers, his lips against my ear. "You're not doing this alone. I've got you."
I... I want to believe him. I do. I need to believe him, because we - I - need him to be right. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to focus. But it's hard. So hard, with him so close, with his body pressed against mine. The memory of that kiss, of the feel of him, is still fresh in my mind, still haunting me.
"You smell like oranges." I blurt out, my face heating.
Like... oranges...? What the hell is wrong with me? How! How could that be the thing that comes out of my mouth in a situation where he's so close and breathing on my neck and...! I try to pull away, but his arm tightens around me, keeping me in place.
"Do I?" He murmurs, sounding amused. "Probably the soap. Do I get to smell you now?"
"Wha... wha...?! N-no! I-"
His arm slides from my waist, but before I can escape, his hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. He tilts my head up, his eyes meeting mine, his gaze intense. "I wasn't asking, Sarah." His voice is low, rough, sending a shiver down my spine.
"You- want to... sniff me...?" I stare up at him. What kind of-? I don't-!
"No. No-" He groans and drops his head to my shoulder, his body shaking with... laughter? "No. That's...! Come on, Sarah..."
"C-come on? What??" I sputter, cheeks burning. "You're the one who...!" I don't even know what to say. "You... you weirdo!"
"You're so damn-" He lifts his head, and then he's kissing me. It's not like the last time, angry and desperate. It's... tender. Sweet, almost. His lips move against mine, gentle, coaxing. It's... I don't know what to do with this. With him. With the way he makes me feel.
I kiss him back, my arms wrapping around his neck, my fingers threading through his hair. He tastes like. Also like citrus, actually. His body presses against mine, his other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel his heart beating, fast and strong, matching the rhythm of my own.
The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against my lips, asking for more. I open for him, my body responding to his, a heat building low in my belly. His hand moves from my hair, sliding down my back, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine. I shiver, pressing closer, wanting more, wanting...
But then, suddenly, he pulls back, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with desire. He rests his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping my waist. "Fuck..." He mutters, his voice rough. Then, he stiffens. "No. No, no, no."
"Wha-?" I'm dizzy, confused, my mind still caught up in the kiss, in the feel of him.
He pulls away completely, his hands dropping from my waist. I've never seen him so... disheveled before. But there's a strange, hunted look in his eyes, too. "I- Sorry, I... have to..."
"Alis-"
"See you. Tonight." He says, abruptly, and then he's turning, practically sprinting out of the room.
I stare after him, my mind reeling, my body aching with the sudden loss of his warmth. What just happened? Why did he stop? Did I... did I do something wrong? I don't...
I bury my face in my hands, letting out a frustrated groan. I don't understand him. I don't understand any of this.
I...
I just....
"D-Damn you, Alistair!" I snarl, at the wall. There's no one there. It's not satisfying at all. "Jerk!"
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, to clear my head.
It does not work.
I give a miserable groan and collapse on the chair, slumping over the desk in front of me.
"You're...." I grumble, under my breath. "Stupid."