Grace wasn't kept tied up, or in handcuffs. She wasn't surrounded by armed guards every minute of the day. At times, she didn't feel like anyone paid her any attention at all.

She doubted she could have gotten far if she made a run for it, but Josh, the boss man, knew exactly what would keep her right where he wanted her. If she ran, Hunter and Grace were dead.

So Grace stayed.

As far as she could tell, they were in a town in the 20 mile stretch she had just crossed and escaped from, but a little farther west.

"We'll leave tonight," John had told her. "We can get you most of the way to the border, but you'll have to go across the final section and get back on your own."

"And if I don't come back?"

Josh shrugged. "You have four days to get back here. After that, either you 're dead or you ran out on us. Either way, your friends die."

Grace swallowed hard. She knew Josh meant it, and that there was no point in arguing how ridiculous that was. She had no choice but to make it back.

So as they waited for the sun to go down, the militants gave Grace a bit of food and water, but mostly ignored her. They went about their business as she waiting in the room where she had woken up. There was only one small window, but it was enough for Grace to watch the slowly darkening sky, her stomach filling up with dread as time passed.

"Put this on." Josh came in and threw some clothes at her. "You'll blend in better than with what you have on now. And try to make yourself look less like you got hit by a bus."

Josh left the room, and Grace reluctantly put on the clothes. The ones she currently wore were disgusting, so it was nice to be in something clean. She just resented where the black pants, shirt, and jacket came from. It was all made with the same heavy material. She tried to untangle her hair as best as she could and then tied it up in a ponytail. If Josh wanted her to do more, he could suck it.

Josh came back in. "Alright, let's go."

Grace dragged her feet as she left the room, out of the house and toward the truck waiting for her. She climbed into the back, but no one else was there.

"Just you and your driver," Josh said. "She'll give you directions when she drops you off." He looked around at the open truck bed. "You know what happens if you try anything stupid."

Grace gave a curt nod, her lips pressed tightly together.

Josh banged his hand twice on the truck, and the driver started the engine and lurched to a start down the road.

It didn't stay much of a road, however. Eventually, the terrain became bumpier, and Grace had to clutch the side of the truck to avoid getting thrown out. They moved slowly, and as they got farther and farther east Grace felt more and more nauseous. No one came back from the border. Ever. But if she didn't, her friends were dead.

The truck stopped. Grace couldn't tell how the driver knew where to go. Everything looked the same and since the moon was just a sliver in the sky, the night was pitch black.

The driver's door opened and then closed, but Grace noted that the driver made an effort not to slam it. She wanted to be quiet. "This is where you get out," she told Grace.

Grace hopped over the side of the truck and stumbled slightly as she landed, her legs stiff from the bumpy ride.

"You're going to go straight." The driver pointed through the trees. "And then eventually you're going to come out into a clearing, it's not far. There's a ridge at the edge that leads down to the border and where you'll be able to find everything." She handed Grace the list.

Grace looked down at the list and then back up at the driver. "And then assuming I can somehow find an arsenal in the middle of nowhere," she said sarcastically, "I have to lug it all back on my own?"

"I can't risk staying here."

"Brilliant."

"Good luck." The driver got back in the car, but before she closed the door, Grace stopped her.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

The driver looked at her.

"Why are you doing this? I mean, do you agree with all of this?" Grace held up the list of heavy weaponry.

The driver gave her a carefully guarded look. "We all do what we have to," she said. "I mean, aren't you?"

Grace couldn't argue with that.

"I do hope you make it." And with that, she closed her door, backed up, and drove off the way they came.

"Grace," Grace muttered to herself, "if you make it out of this, you are going back to Seaside and you are never leaving. Ever again." She started walking through the trees, looking for a clearing she half hoped she would never find.

But she did find it. As Grace emerged from the trees, she could see a faint glow coming from across the field, presumably down the ridge that her driver told her she would find. Grace felt very exposed walking out in the open, even though no one was around. And at least for once she didn't have to worry about militants.

Grace crouched down as she approached the edge of the field, where it started going down. The last thing she wanted was to expose herself to who knows how many people before she could even begin to make a plan to steal all the stuff she needed to steal.

Crawling on her hands and knees, Grace eventually got down on her stomach and crept to the edge of the ridge, peering over at almost gasping out loud in shock.

It was a military base. And not like a central valley militia base, put together with whatever they could find and looking like something out of an apocalypse movie. No, this was a full-blown, Area 51-esque, U.S. military base. Giant floodlights lit up what Grace assumed was the border for miles, as far as she could see.

On the other side of the brightly lit up fence was a network of roads, towers, and buildings. She assumed guards were up in the towers, and more men patrolled along the fence, all heavily armed with weapons beyond anything that the central valley militia had.

A million questions raced through Grace's head, some of which she could answer immediately, others which would bug her probably for the rest of her life.

How did no one know this was here? But Grace knew plenty of people who headed east. None of them came back. Clearly, these people didn't want them knowing they were here.

Were they trying to keep people from getting out? Or keep people from getting in? Did everyone else in the country know what was going on? Did they know what actually happened in California?

Grace crawled away from the edge of the ridge and rolled over on her back, looking up in the sky and breathing hard. She couldn't think about those sorts of things, not right now. It didn't matter if the country knew or didn't know, if it was also in shambles, or if life had continued on as usual for them over the last three years. Grace's situation was still the same: she was fighting for survival. And it was a fight she intended to win.

She knew one thing for certain. She wouldn't be able to get into the base at night. That's when they would be looking for her, and they would spot her as soon as she started down the ridge.

Grace could only hope that she would be able to sneak in at some point during the day. But she didn't even see any openings, much less that anyone was coming on the California side of the border. And if she was caught, would they just shoot her on sight? Take her in for interrogation and then kill her?

The nice explanation was that they would capture her and then let her go live her life on the other side of the border. But Grace doubted that the entire rest of the country was just content with letting California waste away behind a giant fence. The more she thought about it, the more she believed that California's fate was somehow kept a secret from the rest of the country.

Grace crawled back up to ridge and looked in either direction. Brighter lights beyond the fence came from her left. So she turned to her right. It was more likely that the weapons would be where the lights were, but there was no point in heading toward the supplies if she couldn't get across the fence. Dimmer lights meant fewer people, which meant an easier time breaking in.

She army crawled about half a mile. Grace could understand why her driver only took her as far as she did. Any farther, a vehicle would most likely be spotted, especially during the day. Grace dreaded to think if anyone from the base came out and patrolled on this side of the border during the day. If that was the case, Grace doubted she could hide.

Eventually, Grace spotted a heavily chained gate in the fence. There was a road behind it, and faint tire tracks on her side. So they did sometimes come this way, but based on the shallowness of the indentations, she guessed that it wasn't daily. So just when something was going wrong?

It looked like mostly vehicle storage on the other side. That was good. Cars would be less heavily guarded than weapons. At least, Grace assumed so.

She inched herself away from the ridge again. This time, she went farther back into the field, eventually finding a rock she could prop herself up against.

Josh had given her four days. That meant she had to be back by nightfall on the fourth day, about 88 hours from now. She guessed that with her such a large load of items, she would have to allow at least 12 hours to make it back. That left her with three days to come up with a plan, get inside the compound, steal the weapons, and get herself out. She also had to find time to eat and sleep.

Grace crossed her arms, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She couldn't do anything until she could figure out if crossing during the day was feasible. She knew the sun would wake her up, leaving her with about 80 hours before she had to get back.

Even as she lied there, eyes closed and trying to get some rest, the hopelessness of it all weighed on her heavily. If it was just her life at stake, she could make her peace with it. But it wasn't. She couldn't bear the thought of Josh giving Charlie that order and then the militia spy murdering Hunter and Anna.

And then there was the thought of if she did succeed. She would be delivering weapons into the hands of people who would only use them to hurt more people. Jackson and Carrie and so many others who had just had the misfortune of living there when everything fell to shit, and now she was helping their occupiers.

Suddenly, Grace felt a surge of anger. The rest of the country still had resources, that much was clear. So why weren't they helping? Why weren't they doing anything? So many people had died, and what was the point of it all?

Grace forced her mind to go blank. Anger would only sap the little energy she had. One problem at a time, and tomorrow morning's problem was to figure out how to break into a military fortress.