“You can’t be serious.” It was a rhetorical question, but one I had to ask—because this was magnitudes worse than what Richards had alluded to. Maybe even worse than the scenario from which we’d been hiding from.
Greene’s smile was surprisingly sad. “Figured they hadn’t told you about that. Else, you wouldn’t have so freely admitted at the docks who you are.”
“You pretty much made me,” I groused.
He shrugged, not denying it. “It was the quickest way to get you out of my city, and make sure you couldn’t come back. Also, not linger for long in our vicinity, because you know what those savages will do come morning? They’ll be at your people’s doorstep by noon, and chances are, if you’re still there they’ll kick you out the door, shared history or not, just to be rid of them.”
The anger was back, but nothing I could do about that—and I could kind of see where Greene was coming from with the reasoning for wanting me gone. “How come my people are still living on your doorstep then if we’re all persona non grata?”
“Just you and your husband,” Greene was quick to explain. “Consensus has it that your disappearance sealed your fate. You used the others and discarded them like rags after you’d gotten your use out of them.”
“Is any of that actually supposed to make sense?” I’d managed to keep a lid on my anger until this, but enough was enough. “And you, personally, don’t believe that shit, right?”
His smile was a little sad but mostly neutral—not very easing on my nerves. “It doesn’t matter what I personally believe when I have twenty thousand people close by who say otherwise. Of course, I got to meet you face-to-face on several occasions, and I may know a few details that the rabble out there isn’t aware of. It doesn’t really matter. It’s the fallout you have to deal with, whether you caused it or not.”
My, wasn’t that just perfect? At least Greene had had the common decency to warn me—which Richards hadn’t, and I didn’t believe for a second that he and his soldiers didn’t know this version of the story. Of course, if I’d known all that, I may not have simply come along with them—although, I hated to admit, they still were my only option, unless I’d wanted to add weeks or months to my journey.
It sure added a new layer of unease to what was already churning deep in my stomach.
“Guess returning from the dead is never without a hitch,” I finally offered when Greene was still waiting for something a good few minutes later. He had no wise words to offer in return. Maybe it was better this way.
Chapter 13
Three hours later, and the time for feeling sorry for myself was up. I hadn’t been to New Angeles often by boat, but even so, I could see how much growth and progress there had been along the coast. Gone were the few overrun towns, fire and looting having reduced a lot to bare bones, with no shambler moving in sight. A few times I’d thought I felt the light thrumming of a beacon coming from the distance—a good explanation why, after the cleanup, the coast had remained abandoned. Twice, we passed working docks that were in much better condition, if empty of people at the moment—leading to settlements further inland, I figured. Once in a while I thought I saw movement on the coast but couldn’t be sure; we passed our fair share of small fishing vessels, going up and down the shoreline, a few also hauling cargo. It all seemed so normal, like nothing had happened after we had to learn not to rely on fossil fuels and electricity any longer, although to a point they obviously still did. I had lost all interest in inquiring what the ship was running on. Who cared if they’d managed to get a refinery running again or not? I had much bigger fish to fry—or get fried myself, which seemed all the more likely.
We passed the old cliff that we’d used in the first months of the budding settlement to get to the boats, and consequently, the city, now abandoned, the pier destroyed for good. Since the ship was already slowing down, I figured they must have established a different docking site.
Or beach-front town, as it turned out, I realized a few minutes later when the ship went around more cliffs jutting out into the ocean, with sandy beaches opening up behind—and a well-established marina, complete with a dozen anchored vessels of different sizes, and the accompanying town behind it coming into view. At first glance, there were a good hundred houses near the water, with more further inland. Palisades, watchtowers, and several rows of fences and trenches, making the town easily defensible toward land, and very hard to breach, while leaving the waterway somewhat more open. Someone had known what they were doing as they’d dug in here. I really fucking hoped that I was right about my guess on who that had been.
It turned out, I didn’t need to guess much longer. As the boat drew into the marina and toward the farthest-extending part of the free dock, I saw that the square beyond was packed with people—and quite a few familiar faces were among them. Under different circumstances, I would have laughed at the trepidation and joy, twisted around each other as they were, that arose from deep inside my chest—and the wave of homesickness that was overwhelming me, strong for a few moments, choking me up.
Right then, I felt like our decision to disappear had been short-sighted and stupid. Why spend months living off the land as nomads, then slowly start rebuilding everything we needed when we could have had it all here? Without months of bad diets, months without enough sleep because one of us always had to be awake, or at least easy to rouse at the first hint of danger? And just look what it had gotten us into with the slavers from the camp—none of that would have happened if we’d been part of a larger group. So many familiar strong, capable people living here—Andrej, Pia, Burns, Martinez; Moore, Collins, Clark, and Santos. A handful more who I still recognized from when we’d started the settlement at the coast—before I’d left. Lots more that I didn’t know but who looked equally competent.
But then my gaze snapped to the tall, blonde woman in their midst with the child half wrapped around her left leg, half hiding behind it, and right there I had my answer. I’d left because I’d known, deep down, even before I got confirmation, that I was a danger to both Sadie and her unborn kid, and considering how much of a target Nate and I had both painted on us at the time, leaving had been the right idea—and nothing whatsoever had changed about that. And that wasn’t the only child I saw, or new face next to a familiar one. Life had moved on, and so had they, and deep down in my gut I knew that us staying wouldn’t have ended well for any of them.
Still, being the odd one out now sucked. Being the one who came crawling back, on her knees, because she needed help, sucked. Having to admit that I hadn’t been strong enough, smart enough, quick enough to make it out there on my own sucked.
And, damn. You’d think that after everything I’d been through, my ego wouldn’t be the thing I’d have to fight the most as I stepped from the ship onto the dock, my pack swung over one shoulder, the rifle tied securely to the back of it. I was the only one who left, the rest remaining as a—hopefully silent—mass of onlookers. I really didn’t care for all that attention directed at me, but no way around that now. So I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and made my way down the dock to the square.
Well, here went nothing.
Halfway across the distance, I considered punching myself in the left thigh to let the pain take away all those nasty emotions warring inside of me. It would be so much easier to get through this keyed up, letting focus and attention override any stupid thing my heart might get up to. I didn’t expect I’d need it to fight my way out, but better safe than sorry, right?
Wrong, I told myself as I forced my fingers to relax and spread out from the fist they’d already curled into. I had no clue whatsoever what they all thought of me, but appearing as the emotionless robot wouldn’t help me. On the contrary—there was a chance they’d believe the powers that be had actually gotten to me, brainwashed me, turned me into an anathema of what I actually was. Couldn’t have that, now, could I? So all Bree, no plan—as usual—it was.
Shit. But I’d r
eally expected this to be easier and less painful by the time I finally got here.
I stopped exactly one step off the pier where sturdy, weathered wood met cracked concrete. That left me close enough to all of them that I wouldn’t have to shout, but at a rather obvious distance. Swallowing thickly, I took a moment to check in with those who had once been my closest friends, but got nothing from them. With the Ice Queen, I’d expected no less—I’d know whether she’d try to kill or hug me the moment before either happened—but Andrej and Burns cut me deep. Martinez had been pretty pissed at me the last time we’d talked and I could tell that he still remembered as well, but I would have preferred that anger now to the neutral hostility I got instead. And Sadie—well, she was seething with rage while trying to appear very elder-stateswoman-esque, but failing horribly. The obvious dissonance between us came at the worst of times.
Walking down the dock had already been awkward. Simply standing there was worse, so I took a last breath and let it rip, hoping that it wouldn’t come out as pathetic as it sounded in my head. “I am very aware that you’re likely not at all keen on seeing me here. Trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here in the first place if I didn’t need your help. Which I do. Please, just hear me out. If none of you feel like supporting me, I’ll just go, no hard feelings.” Maybe not my most eloquent string of sentences, but at least it came across real—or so I prayed. Shit, but when had this turned so fucking hard?
The silence that followed was oppressive, and thick enough to cut with a knife. It was almost a relief when Sadie let out a derisive snort, although it was obvious I wouldn’t like what I had coming.
“Help, huh? That’s rich.”
I did my best attempt at a nonchalant shrug. “Why don’t you just let me have it so that we get this out of the way and can get to the important part?”
Sadie looked ready to explode in my face but something held her back. Her attention briefly skipped from me to the boat at my back, a wry twist coming to her face. “Sure, why not? How about you start with the company you’re keeping nowadays?”
“I needed to hitch a ride. They were in the area,” I explained. “I trusted them moderately more than the slavers that seem to have become a real pain in the ass. And they were my only option to get here before the summer turns half the country into a desert wasteland.”
She seemed to be waiting for more. Nobody else spoke up. “That’s it?”
I offered another shrug. “I’ve spent the last two and a half years hiding in the middle of nowhere. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t be here, but, as usual, other assholes had other plans. How about I start where we last saw each other, so we’re all on the same page? Because, as things are, I may not blindly trust those yahoos back there, but they are the least of my problems at the moment.”
I could tell that there was so much grief she wanted to air, but Sadie left it at a curt, “It’s a start.” I already had my mouth open to do just that when she added, “And while you’re at it, why don’t you explain why you and your good-for-nothing husband decided to abandon me, seven months pregnant, and leave us short people we direly needed at the time?”
Looking around pointedly, I raised my brows at her. “You seem to have done well enough for yourselves. But, sure, let’s start there. Let’s start with that we left because I already had a very strong suspicion that my immunity toward the zombie virus was wearing off, or something similar was very, very wrong with me—and it turned out that I was right. Because of the bites, I’d gotten a nasty secondary infection that made me rot from the inside out—or outside in, depending how you want to view that. I’m sure that, in the meantime, you got confirmation of that from the Silo. While I was waiting for their results, we got an invitation I couldn’t refuse, mainly as it was my only chance to survive. And we got to that base in Canada with hours to spare, hours that I had left to live.”
Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. I was sure that she’d heard the tale from Burns—or Jason, or Charlie, or anyone who’d talked with them since; maybe even Gita. “What a coincidence, really.”
I couldn’t help but snort as I looked back over my shoulder. “Richards, how many ATV charging stations did you have out there?”
Red seemed very amused at my question. “Four or five. I can’t quite remember anymore. You missed the first two at the very least.”
Turning back to Sadie, I did my best to ignore her frown. “Yes, we knew it was a setup when we found an electric ATV at a charging station. It was obvious to Nate and me both that we had this one chance only, and he wouldn’t just let me die. So we went. And it went about as well as you’d expect, because while we were waiting there at the fence of the base, with me coughing up blood, none other than Bucky Hamilton himself rolled up to the gate to gloat all over my misfortune. Not that I had much energy to give a shit about that anymore. At the base, they gave me a routine physical, realized just how close to the brink I was, shot me up with the serum so I’d have a fighting chance to survive, and then they fixed me, as much as they were able to.”
For the first time, confusion appeared on Sadie’s face, making me want to snort. Oh, this was going to be fun. Apparently, Burns had kept his trap shut about my… changes. A quick glance in his direction got me the same stoic look as before, so I turned back to Sadie. “It’s easier if I show you.” That said, I dropped my pack, and started to strip out of my jacket so I’d have an easier time to drop my pants and get the gloves off that went halfway up my forearms underneath the outer layers. Pausing to look back briefly, I couldn’t help a quick grin. “Gallager, you may want to look away for this, if my hands already made you want to hurl.” I didn’t get a response from the young soldier, loitering somewhere behind Red, but I had something else to focus on, anyway—like the rampant self-loathing that chose just the right time to rear its ugly head once more.
“Not sure if this is necessary,” Sadie started when she realized I was about to drop my pants—but she cut off as I shoved them down to my knees, revealing the wasteland that was my left thigh. She turned a little white in the face, even visible through her permanent tan.
“You maybe remember the nice patch of scars I had up here where the zombies got me? Well, good news is, that down there is so much worse that it’s almost not noticeably anymore.” I prodded at the middle of my thigh. “Part of my femur is a titanium replacement now because necrosis went not just down to the bone but straight through it.” I then pulled up my tank top and partly turned around so the mess that was my lower back—worst where my kidney had been but overall bad—was in full view, a nice addition to my abdominal scarring. “Part of that was from where Nate had to open several of the wounds a few times to keep draining pus. I really wouldn’t advise letting him do sutures unless you really, absolutely need them. Oh, and this is where, a few weeks later, their medic had to cut me open again to remove a last festering nest of necrosis that they either missed, or more likely was growing anew even after they’d cut out whatever they could reach, including a few of my redundant organs.” Leaving the clothes where I’d shoved them for the most effect, I started taking off my gloves last, having to use my lips and teeth to peel them off, talking on when I could. “I’m too lazy to undo my boots, but, suffice it to say, my feet are even worse than my hands. Thankfully, I don’t need them to shoot, right?” With that, I dropped both of the gloves and extended my arms in front of me, fingers spread—what was left of them. Sadie looked downright ashen, and a few of the previously silent onlookers started to murmur and fidget—and not all of them leaned away. I let them all get a good look before I put my shirt and pants back where they belonged, but left the gloves off. It was hot as hell, and getting the sweaty leather back on would take ages. Propping my hands up at my hips was a much more reasonable idea.
“I have no clue how long it took them to fix me up, but quite a bit—”
Richards clearing his throat behind me made me pause and look at him.
“Sixteen and a half hours,” he offered
.
I was tempted to roll my eyes at him but refrained, instead shouting, “I so didn’t need to know the exact number. ‘A small eternity’ totally does it for me.”
“You always complain that I never share information with you. Consider it a token of trust.”
Just what I needed right now, but I chose to—mostly—ignore him as I turned back to the others. “Well, there you have it. Actually, that sounds like a rather low number, but I may be biased—and they did have an entire team of people, from what I remember.”
I was about to skip ahead but Martinez spoke up, his voice a warring mix between anger and barely-contained horror. “You remember.”
Holding his gaze, I did my best impression of an “oh, this is nothing” shrug. “I just told you—they shot me up with the serum, then they dragged me into the OR. I don’t have to tell you how standard procedure on those who’ve gotten inoculated works. Shoot ‘em up with a paralytic, and then do whatever the hell you want.”
I hadn’t planned on dropping that bomb—actually, I’d kind of hoped to not have to explain a lot of this—and seeing true horror, mixed with tons of empathy, on my best friend’s face slayed me. So much for that stoic look from before—all pretense, with not much behind it. Part of me wanted to spill the remainder of the beans but I wasn’t sure Martinez could take it right now, so I went for the very abbreviated version.
“Anyway, what counts is that I survived, but I was barely coherent from pain the next morning, when they told us in no uncertain terms that we would come to France with them on their fucked-up mission. And it wasn’t like we could decline, with them being all nice and threatening to kill the rest of our little group that had come all the way to the base in the meantime. Sorry to tell you this, chico, but I didn’t bargain myself away so they’d fix your spine; I just took the carrot rather than let them beat Burns, Gita, Tanner, Charlie, and Jason to death with the stick. The latter two remained behind to make sure you weren’t alone up there; the rest of us got on a plane with the whole bunch of those idiots over there. I don’t really remember much of that flight, or the first few days on the destroyer across the Atlantic. But, sure, once we got to France, I did my very best not to get killed, and that, as always, depended on not getting any of the others killed as well. Enough of us ended up dying, anyway. We got to the lab, we got what we came for, I sadly didn’t get to kill Hamilton although he really, absolutely deserved it, and then we headed back home. Only that because of extenuating circumstances, Nate and I decided that it was better for everyone involved if we just disappeared—and that’s exactly what we did. Long story short, we spent months on the move before we found a few hideouts that we used for weeks at a time. We missed everything that happened here in the meantime—including that damn slaver camp growing in the southeast. I got away, Nate didn’t. I can’t get him out of there on my own, and that’s why I’m here. I need your help, plain and simple. Maybe you hate us both for various reasons, warranted or not, but I know that a lot of you still owe him. I’m here to ask for your help, and if that’s not enough, to cash in any and all favors owed. And that’s about it.”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 17
