Read State of Rebellion (Collapse Series) for Free Online

garb similar to what the
Rangers
are wearing, a combination of uniforms and outdoor gear. We walk inside. I tilt my head up, marveling at the thick canopy of trees. And then I look around me.
    This isn’t a campground made just for RVs and pop up trailers. Asphalt roads wind throughout the large common area. A gift shop and general store are nestled between two massive cedars. Across the street, a cabin with brown siding sits on a small embankment. A sign on the porch railing says,
HQ
.
    “What was this place?” I say, awed.
    “It was a summer and winter youth camp,” Dad explains. “After the EMP and Omega takeover, everyone was stuck here. The camp authorities reverted to their emergency plan and set up roadblocks, hid themselves back in here, and utilized their stored resources to stay alive.”
    “This is impressive,” Chris murmurs.
    I agree.
    The camp is buzzing with activity. Militiamen – and women – are everywhere. Patrolling the fence, standing by the general store, walking out of the HQ – Headquarters - building. Glancing to my left, a large dirt parking lot has been carved out. In it are parked a dozen military troop transport vehicles, the kind that you’d see in World War Two.
    I take a deep breath, smelling pine, damp earth…and something else.
    Something delicious.
    Food
.
    We come to a fork in the road. Down the left path, a large building with wide glass windows is gleaming in the sunlight. A huge dining patio is built around the outside. A makeshift sign has been pounded into the dirt in front of the building: CHOW HALL.
    “That used to be the campers’ dining hall,” Dad says, catching up with me. “To the right is where everybody is staying. This way, I’ll show you.”
    While Dad’s group of
Rangers
disperse amongst the camp, following orders, the
Fighters
follow Dad down the road that winds away from the chow hall. Even in the safe confines of acampground our platoons stay in position, moving with purpose. Ready for anything.
    Side streets dive off through the forest, going uphill, downhill and every other direction known to man. Cabins are everywhere. Most of them look like they’re being lived in.
    Further down the street, an archway stretches between two lodge pole pines.
    PINE TREE HIGH SCHOOL CAMP
    “This is where you’ll be staying,” Dad says, turning to Chris. We walk under the arch. A grassy meadow extends into the open for a good five hundred feet. An empty swimming pool sits to the left, surrounded by a cyclone fence.
    As we cross the meadow, we enter a dark forested area. Quaint brown cabins dot the perimeter, sitting snugly within the trees. Each cabin has a name, too.
    Deer Foot.
    Sugar Pine.
    Fern.
    Tiger Lily.
    “These are camper cabins,” I realize.
    “Yes,” Dad nods. “And they make perfect barracks for our men.”
    I turn to check on our group. Mr. and Mrs. Young are bringing up the rear. Little Isabel has her fingers laced through her adoptive mother’s, and Jeff is standing to the side, nonplussed.
    “What do you think?” I whisper to Sophia.
    “I think it’s the safest place we’ve been in a long time,” she replies.
    No kidding.
    “The west side of camp,” Dad explains, “is where the men stay. Ladies, you’ll be across themeadow in the east side. Each side has a shower and toilet facilities.”
    “Oh, whoa.” I blink. “Are you saying there’s running water? Indoor plumbing?”
    “Yes.” Dad smiles. “We’ve got our own supply up here. You’ll be briefed on the rules for using water. Dinner is at eighteen-hundred hours every night in the chow hall. Breakfast is at oh-seven-hundred. Everybody pulls their weight around here, so you’ll all be rotating sentry duty and helping with other tasks.”
    Sounds fair.
    “As for the militia leaders,” Dad continues, turning to Chris. And me. “You’ll need to come with me when you’re ready.”
    “Find a bunk and get settled,” Chris commands his men. “Stay alert. I’ll be back.”