Summer Lane

At last, somebody in line steps forward. __ can commit,_ he says. He__ a tall, lean young man with a rifle slung over his back.__hat__ your name?_ Chris asks. __ndrew,_ he replies. __nd I__ in.__hris nods. A few other guys step forward and, after a few moments, the entire crowd of ex-POWs takes one step, signifying their decision. My chest swells with pride _ pride for Chris__ leadership, pride for the people willing to give their lives to take down Omega. It__ a rush.

Things used to be easy. Flip a switch? On goes the light. Press a button? You__e calling your parents. Swipe a credit card? You just paid for lunch. Easy, simple, convenient. Nothing is like that anymore

What__ your name?_ I ask again. __hris,_ he says. __hris Young._ I exhale dramatically, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. __ can take you,_ I reply. __ut if you try anything, I__l shoot you right between the eyes. Seriously._ He almost smiles. __es, ma__m.

I__e never been on a bike,_ I say. __ mean, I__e been on a bike but not a motorcycle.___nd why is that?_ he asks. __ugs. They get in your mouth, right? That__ just gross._ Chris makes a face.__f you ride around with your mouth hanging open, I assume that could be a possibility.

I don__ know how it happened. Nobody does. There are only theories, empty rhetoric and doomsday prophecies. None of them are right, but none of them are completely wrong, either. They all have a grain of truth. All I know is where I was and what I was doing when it happened.

I am not the girl I once was, and that is okay. I am a new woman, because this is a new world, and I will do what I must for the people I love...Nothing is perfect, but we have a chance now. We have hope, and that is all I ever asked for.

Outside, the dogs whine over the wind. They sense the wolves - they sense the wild. It calls to them, like it calls to me, and I wonder sometimes if we are the only ones who hear it.

We'll fight,' I interrupt. 'And if we die, that's how it ends. Fighting. With purpose.

Despite everything, every piece of Alaska sang to me. I remembered every curve in the trails, every tree in the forest. It was familiar to me, comfortable. The more I thought about leaving it, the less I liked the idea. This was my home.

I didn't care, because I loved him, and that was the end of every argument and the beginning of every promise.

This is a kiss worthy of a blood-soaked battlefield, a kiss born out of tragedy and misery and death and loss. A kiss that has been long in the making, one that I have strenuously avoided, and he has tortuously waited for.