The crowd, small as it was, quickly dispersed after that, with Pia the first to disappear to shoo everyone into a frenzy. I gravitated over to where Nate had taken possession of the maps, he and Romanoff already busy marking possible entry and exit routes. The spies proved to be very chatty, as were Marleen, Scott, and one of his undercover guys who had his own details to add. Come to think of it, I was surprised that Marleen had made herself scarce and spent the entire meeting munching bread and listening rather than speaking herself. There was time and opportunity for that now.
I mostly paid attention to have a good idea what would be going down, but felt my focus slip more often than not. Someone brought me coffee and more food, which helped but only so much. Nate appeared to be his usual calm, stoic self but I could see the mask fraying at the edges. No wonder—he had been injured earlier tonight, his body was severely lacking reserves it needed to heal, and I hadn’t bothered asking him when he’d had the last good rest. His assessment of what kept him going—and how long—had been sketchy at best, and not something I liked to rely on. While the Ice Queen hadn’t protested his insistence on striking as soon as possible, I kind of shared her true sentiment—this wasn’t what was good for him. But at the same time, I understood why he had to do it. Why waiting now wouldn’t just be a colossal waste of an opportunity, but also give his mind a chance to come down—and there was no telling how far he would plummet. Better get the shit sorted out first, we could all lick our wounds later.
Martinez seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he came sidling up to me, not quite pulling me away from planning but making it obvious that he wanted to talk. “How are you holding up?” he asked, trying not to sound concerned but failing by a mile.
I shrugged, doing my best to appear nonchalant. “Considering circumstances, pretty good.”
“And how’s he holding up?” No need to clarify who he was referring to.
I considered my words carefully, not just because I didn’t want to blurt anything out that was better left unsaid, but also because I wasn’t quite sure what to reply. That in itself seemed to be an answer already, making the frown on Martinez’s face deepen, so I had to say something.
“For now? He’s holding up, and I think that’s the only way forward.”
He grimaced, clearly not sharing my opinion. “You both need some time out,” he muttered, staring into my eyes imploringly. “I mean it. I know you both think you can bullshit yourselves through everything until you make it, but—”
“No buts,” I interrupted him, lowering my voice so nobody else could hear. “Is he toeing the line of insanity? Yeah, probably. When we were in the camp today, I watched him kill a guy with his bare hands and rip his heart out. And that seems to have been a pretty accurate representation of what life must have been like for him in the meantime. But honestly? I think he’s right when he insists that he needs to act now. Fuck opportunities—he needs this. So I’m going to support him, if only so he knows that he has me a hundred percent in his corner. You know him as well as I do. You know that he will view opposition as lack of faith in him, and if he needs something above all else now, it’s confidence in us to have his back.” I forced myself to stop and exhale slowly to let my mind catch up with what I was ranting about, and channel my anger in the right direction. “You are right when you say that he needs a time-out. And I’ll do my fucking best to make that happen, but after this is resolved. I know how he’s feeling right now. I was the same after getting away from Taggard. I could have done well with food and rest and some good old R&R, but I would have gone mad if I’d been forced into a state of inactivity. That was after a week. He’s been through this for months. He needs this now more than ever. I appreciate your concern, but I feel like that’s betting on the wrong horse right now.”
Martinez certainly didn’t like hearing my retort but didn’t tell me to fuck off—which I appreciated. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “From a medical and psychological point, I’d have to disagree vehemently, but I know that life seldom follows that course. Just—” He paused, looking a little conflicted. “Please come talk to me if you need help, okay? Neither of you needs to get through this alone. We’re all here to help you. Whenever, whatever you need.”
His concern wasn’t surprising, but his vehemence took me a little aback. “I never doubted that. Why the insistence now?”
He hesitated again but then spilled the beans. “I know we never really talked about this in the past, but you changed after you almost died. On some level I’ve always felt like you blamed us because we couldn’t protect you.”
“That’s bullshit—”
Martinez interrupted my interruption with a surprisingly stern look, unusual for him—enough so for it to work. “I didn’t say it’s the truth, I said it’s how I felt. And I get that with everything that happened to you in Canada and France, and how I reacted, and how you thought you needed to hide to protect us—I get that by now that ‘I need to be self-reliant’ schtick has sunken into your bones. And maybe you’re right and I’m wrong and you both just need to do your thing and eventually it will all work itself out. But, just maybe, consider that you’re churning in the ever same ruts, and you need a good shove from behind to get out of that temporary hole. All I’m saying is that I’m always happy to shove you. Or him. And I’ll stop now before you make a really bad pun out of this.” His eyes narrowed then. “You’re still pretty out of it. I know Harris insisted that it was vital that you appear stoned, but this is pushing it a little.”
“Gee, thanks for pointing out something I already know and can do shit about,” I complained but quickly offered up a smile to take the sting out of my words. “No fucking idea what that crap is, and even less so what else they shot me up with. If you know any way for me to come down from it quicker, please, by all means, tell me. But Nate was likely right there, too—withdrawal was a bitch the first time, and I need to function right now, even if it comes with some drawbacks. So unless you have any ideas…?”
“None until we know what compounds they are using,” he professed. “But more coffee might help. Diuretics help flush out toxins through the liver. Just make sure you drink plenty of water.”
“Yes, Mom,” I quipped, grinning when he let out a heavy sigh as he left. Coffee was always a good idea, so I fetched some more for myself and my husband, and returned to his side. Nate accepted the thermos from me without comment and only the barest of nods, too engrossed in studying the maps before him. We now had five sets from various people, painting a pretty composite image. All I was interested in was that citadel and the kennels, and with luck the others would have cleared out the underground fortress by the time I was done clearing out the brothel.
In what must have amounted to record time, we broke camp—or as much as there was to break. A handful of people would remain as absolute last reserve and to guard the few things we wouldn’t be taking, like the tents. Everyone else was split into groups, according to their specialties and group affiliation; Blake and Scott refused to work together, and when I dared select Hill and Cole as part of my group, only my old folks wanted to work with me—meaning Burns and Sonia, pretty much, since Martinez and Andrej would be staying with the vehicles as forward backup and triage station, and Nate and Pia were part of one of the citadel strike teams. The others were hopefully still safely getting drunk inside the camp, undiscovered and unbothered.
That’s how I ended up being the boss of a bunch of army soldiers, which was hilarious on so many levels. I even considered changing my mind and going with Nate, but that damn bitch needed to be brought to justice. Also, as much as I wanted to constantly wrap myself around Nate now that I had him back, and brutally murder everyone who’d been responsible for what had happened to him, I didn’t want to be anywhere near where he’d been kept. Somehow, seeing it all with my own eyes would make it real. I wasn’t as big on denial as he loved to accuse me of, but if there was something important to be done that didn’t involve me be
ing slapped in the face with all that, I was very happy to tackle that instead. From his utter lack of protest about what job I picked, I presumed he was glad I’d be somewhere else when he started cleaning up that mess. In many ways, it had been fortuitous for us both that the first I’d seen him again had been strong, violent, and victorious, rather than a broken mess shivering in the corner. I would have dealt with both, of course, but if we could retroactively put a more positive spin on things, why not go for it?
Getting ready took longer than planned—when didn’t it?—but it was still pitch black out there once all plans were plotted, routes fixed, gear loaded, and people readied. From what I could tell, the storm was getting worse, now strong enough to make driving sturdy cars fun; I didn’t envy those who were pulling duty on the ATVs. Our plan of attack was laughably simple, but it might just work: a small group, including Marleen, Scott and his marines, and our two spies would enter the camp the same way we’d exited—across the fields and down into the agricultural part of the town. They would then either distract or take out the guards by the western gate—the one where the raiding parties usually came in. Once inside, I’d take my group over to the kennels while the others went deeper into the camp, two teams to check on the entertainment quarter to keep things as quiet as possible, and the remaining fire teams would head for the citadel. If the gate didn’t open in the next two hours, we’d try to sneak in any way possible, which sounded ludicrous until we got close enough to see the camp in the distance—and the gale-force winds almost overturned one of the ATVs. We could likely have walked up to their palisades and simply crawled over them.
Since we’d already split up into the strike teams, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Martinez’s snazzy electric car, with him driving and Burns and Sonia in the back row. The car had fully charged triple batteries from last week but the dark gray of the sky made me guess they wouldn’t get any extra charge any time soon. Since we’d stopped, Martinez had given up on the wipers so we couldn’t really see much of what was going on outside. Sooner or later, someone would have to get out and start checking with binoculars on the gate. I was sorely tempted to pull rank and send someone else out to get pelted with water and debris. The car was constantly shuddering under the onslaught of the elements, making it even easier to be morose and miserable. What I actually felt was the need for violence ebbing and flowing through my veins like surf in shallow water where it hit the beach. My higher brain functions told me to cut down on it, ignore it where possible and suppress it where not. The lizard part of my brain was screaming for blood. I was ready to heed the lizard, but still had to bide my time to let loose on the floodgates. None of that had anything to do with the drugs, although they made it so easy to want to give in to the siren song of blood and gore. I could tell that Martinez was a little concerned about the way I sat there, silent, brooding, but I wasn’t in the mood for talking. Besides, we were both listening to Sonia and Burns bickering behind us, so it wasn’t like we were lacking entertainment.
So much time wasted waiting—an hour now; days to get to the camp; weeks to rally backup; years hoping the day we’d need to do something would never come. And all for what? I was done waiting. I was done being passive. Today was the day for action, and act I would.
“You actually trust that Richards guy?”
Martinez’s question made me tear my eyes away from the rain-splattered window and look at him instead. “Let’s put it this way—he had so many chances to get rid of me by simply not doing anything to help. I’d say that, more than anything, shows that he’s very invested in my continuing ability to be a nuisance. I know you have a lot of reasons not to trust any of them but—”
Martinez offered me a pained smile but made me trail off when he shook his head. “That’s not why I’m asking. I guess on some level I’m glad that it looks like we’re on the same side of the same conflict again.” He licked his lips, briefly glancing at Burns in the rearview mirror before he went on. “If you look back, it was a fucking shame what happened those first two years. I think you said so yourself in at least one great speech—”
“I’ve given many of those. You need to be more specific,” I teased.
I got a suffering look from him for that. “It should always have been humans against the undead. Never humans against humans, particularly if we’ve all come from the same walk of life. On some level I’ve never not seen myself as part of the army—I mean, shit. I’ve been a medic for long enough that Vitamin M is my standard answer for any problem, even things unrelated to pain. It’s who I am. And I’ve always been proud to be part of the army. It never occurred to me that I wasn’t when I threw in my lot with you at that intersection when Miller went one way and Hamilton the other. It was obvious, you know? Us versus zombies. And then that shit when they marked us up and declared us exiled to the road—I didn’t take it seriously, you know? Just superficial crap, like you transfer from one unit to the other, or work with other branches on a joint op. And then suddenly we were shooting at and trying to kill the people who should have been our brothers and sisters. It’s damn easy to react when you’re afraid for your life. And there was a clear and present evil to focus on; that helped. But then you up and left, and suddenly you were working with them as if nothing had happened and I felt so fucking betrayed…”
He trailed off, giving me a moment to interject but went on when I remained silent.
“Didn’t help that they all rolled out their best behavior when I got there. And I could tell that Jason and Charlie, when they joined me, had the same problems I did. Weren’t they supposed to be raping, murdering, backstabbing assholes? Instead, they were the same bastards I’ve been dealing with for over a decade. The same lame jokes, the same lamenting over perfectly good food, the same lazy idiots who got screamed at by the same mother hen of a staff sergeant. Sure, we were acting like weary dogs sniffing each others’ butts, not easy to trust at first, but that changed quickly. And even after that—when we got home to California—we’ve had some contact with them over the months that followed. Usually reserved, always cautious, maybe a little hostile, but that was it. And then you, of all people, get dropped off by a bunch of them who you’re obviously friends with.”
“I wouldn’t call them friends,” I offered, looking away so he wouldn’t read the lie right off my face. Martinez knew me well enough that it didn’t work, of course.
“They are, and that’s okay. Might take us a little to function well together, but we’ll work it out. You know, you can have more than two friends at a time, even if they might not get along great from the get-go?” He didn’t miss me glancing toward the back row, making him flash me a brief grin but he was wise enough not to remark on any issues I might have had with Sonia. “Guess what I’m saying is that if you trust them, I trust them. We’ve fallen awfully short on people we can trust. It doesn’t hurt to increase those numbers again.”
That sounded smart—but also opened up the next Pandora’s box. “And what about the scavengers? Harris and his people? They’ve been quick to help us, mostly because Harris knows us. But what about the rest of them?”
Martinez remained silent, considering, leaving Burns to step into the breach. “Well, if it’s true that they’re all acting like lunatic assholes because they got a faulty version of the serum, things might get a little complicated working with the people they will blame for that.”
“From what we know, that wasn’t the army,” I pointed out.
Sonia gave a derisive huff. “I doubt they’ll differentiate it. Then again, they seem to have a hard time deciding whether to hail you as a saint or burn you at the stake—you could use this gigantic pile of shit as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Isn’t that what you’re notorious for? Unite lunatics under one banner to do your bidding?”
Turning fully so she could see my face, I gave her a mirthless, very toothy smile. “Guess I am, so nice of you to point that out!” I was already missing Marleen. She was so much easier
to deal with. “But maybe you have a point.”
“Maybe?” Sonia echoed, putting extra emphasis and condescension in her tone. “Of course I’m right, bitch!”
Burns snickered, making me want to sock him a good one, but Martinez rolling his eyes—for sure at me, as well—made me hold back.
“Not sure we have a choice, really,” I went on, staring at the rain partly obscuring the tree getting whipped this way and that by the wind. “I think Nate was right when he said it was a good idea to leave the camp to the scavengers. I have absolutely no interest in managing brain-dead farm hands and planning planting schedules. All I managed to grow in two years was a patch of salad, and I never got to harvest and eat it. I think I’m way better at killing things than making them flourish. I’d better leave that to someone else.”
Another chuckle from Burns. “And see, that’s why you married the right guy. He hates salad.”
I was tempted to tell them just how true that statement was, but decided not to. I didn’t quite trust Sonia—not with something so personal and gruesome—and I didn’t want to burden Martinez with Nate’s change in eating habits, either. Maybe I’d pull Burns aside later. Or just leave it to Nate to tell Pia and let her deal with it. Ah, the joys of leadership—let others deal with the bullshit you tried so very hard not to think about. That this wasn’t a good idea was obvious, but thankfully, I had something else to concentrate on instead.
My com beeped, making me reach down and switch it to sending and receiving. I’d turned it off to spare myself having Cole ream me later for having to listen in on our private conversations. I had the strong suspicion that, like the others from our bunch, they viewed it as highly entertaining distraction, but since Cole must have realized he could get under my skin with his nagging, he had no reason not to do it.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 39
