“Does this shit even do anything for you?”
He looked at it, then held it out to me. “Doubt it, but the scent triggers memories that help me relax.”
I hesitated but shook my head. “No, thanks. If the last days have taught me anything, it’s that I’ll never become a fan of anything that screws with my mind. Or body.”
“Suit yourself,” he remarked, taking another drag.
Looking around, I found the corridor deserted. “Say, any update on how many of our marks we found? And what’s up with that chemist everyone keeps mentioning?”
Surprisingly, Richards could give me an answer. “He got away.” At my raised brows, he snorted. “Not because we were too slow—Scott and his people found the lab and raided it, but there was only one assistant there, level intern from what I hear. They have him secured for interrogation. I think they appointed you for the task, seeing as you’re the only one who can make sense of pretty much anything he says. Turns out his master left three days ago on an impromptu mission. Nobody knows where or why he went, but the timing is suspicious.”
It took me a moment to work out. “You think someone who was at our meeting tipped him off?”
Richards shrugged. “Makes sense, now, doesn’t it? I doubt he was afraid of the storm. And my people tell me he never leaves.”
I didn’t like any of that, not one bit. “Even if we knew where he went, we can’t leave with the hurricane about to tear everything that’s not bolted down apart. By the time that blows over, he’ll have a week’s head start.”
Red nodded. “He could be anywhere by then.”
“And this doesn’t concern you, at all?”
He shook his head, his slight smile silly enough to make me want to put that damn joint out on his face—so much for my mind finally snapping back to normal. “Concern? Yes, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. First, we have to regroup, weather out the storm, interrogate the prisoners, and try to make sense of the notes the chemist left.”
That was a good plan, even if I didn’t like it. It sounded like a lot of work, and not the kind I wanted to do right now—or ever. “Does that guy have a name?”
“None that we know,” Red provided. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he went by Keyser Söze.”
Silence fell, neither of us knowing what to say next. I was tempted to ask him about what Bucky had said in what may very well have ended up being his last words—that he’d left some of the samples of the bioweapon, not just the cure, that we’d fetched from France with Raynor, but I doubted that Red knew anything about that. I wasn’t even sure if the good doctor herself knew. I didn’t put it past Hamilton to sneak into storage and dump it into a liquid nitrogen tank with only him the wiser.
“Guess I should make myself useful now,” I said, meaning that as goodbye for now, but Richards held me back.
“I should probably not tell you this,” he started, pausing until he had my full attention. “But you keep complaining about me being all uptight about the file I have on you, and if this helps establish trust between us, why not?” He halted again, making me want to wring his neck, but then I realized he wasn’t being dramatic but actually uncomfortable. That made me instantly suspicious.
“Just spit it out. It can’t get any worse than what I’ve been through, or your people have already done to me.”
He took another drag on the joint, looking at it, then the smoke he blew out, before focusing on me again. “It was just a scrawled note I caught in Emily’s surgery protocols. She’s very thorough, you know?” I must have looked a second away from outright violence as he quickly offered up the rest. “You know they had to remove one of your ovaries? The other’s likely still working since you don’t seem to have any hormonal issues from what I can tell. That was her guess. The updated version of the serum is more balanced than the old ones, factoring in that women’s metabolisms work slightly different than men’s. If you ever feel the urge to test out the theory that you and Miller would have beautiful but extremely violent babies, go hunt down a doctor or nurse with a working ultrasound, or an obstetrician who really knows what he’s doing. The outcome may very well surprise you.”
That said, he dropped what was left of the joint and ground it out with the heel of his boot, and without another word walked away, leaving me standing there, quite stunned.
No. That couldn’t be true. My first thought was denial. After that came the urge to yell after him what was up with his people and putting things up my privates that I hadn’t consented to. Then came paranoia—why was he telling me this now? I knew that if I asked the Ice Queen—who was the first, and likely only, person I’d want to discuss this with, at least until I made up my mind. I already knew what she would tell me: it was a distraction, plain and simple. The most effective way of taking me out of the game—as in making me want to drop out and never come play again. And last, almost drowned out by the cacophony of thoughts and ideas racing through my mind, there was a flicker of hope, so small it could be blown out like a candle by a hurricane with just a single word. Did I dare believe him? Could I even let myself, under these circumstances, in this world?
I didn’t know the answer, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to waste any energy on that now—and even less, tell Nate and add one more heap on his plate that was already too full. But as I turned to go look for someone to give me a more detailed update, I realized that I didn’t need to decide right now—because that flicker had already turned to embers, quietly glimmering away at the very bottom of my soul, impossible to extinguish.
Well, as they say, the only way is forward—and forward I would go.
Acknowledgments
Wow, this book was a tour-de-force start to finish!
First off, thanks where thanks is due—my editor and beta readers, who are the best, and still talk to me after getting through this tome of a book! You have my eternal gratitude!
I pretty much wrote the book in a little over 1.5 months, with 3 months from the end of chapter one to uploading the polished version to Amazon. It’s the second longest novel I’ve written, and it sets up what I consider to be the final trilogy that will make up the Green Fields series (if you want, you can split the books up into a a sequence of trilogies, theme and plot-wise). I absolutely loved writing it—whatever that says about the state of my mind.
As you probably know already, I’ve started my own Patreon last summer, and I’m happy to report that I’ve had a blast writing a novella / short story each month and providing some extra behind-the-scenes content. If that sounds interesting to you, why not check it out here? But no worries—you won’t be missing any vital information for the novels if you only read those. Patreon has become a happy, little side project for me that has kept me surprisingly motivated and productive since the release of the last book.
And now, there are only two more books in the Green Fields series remaining! As you are reading this, I’m likely already writing on book #11. I hope you’re just as excited about it as I am!
Thank you so much for sticking with me, Bree, Nate, and the gang—let’s get the last leg of the journey started!
Thank you!
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Retribution: Green Fields #11
Dedication
To M
Even if he doesn’t know why (that’s what he said). He knows.
What happened in the Green Fields Series so far:
Bree Lewis thinks her life is getting complicated when the biotech company she is working for—Green Fields Biotech—gets taken over by terrorists… but that’s before she realizes that the zombie apocalypse is about to break out. She decides to help Nate Miller, leader of the insurgents, to find out who killed his brother—and might just be responsible for the end of the world. Together, they flee in the nick of time, barely getting out before the city gets overrun by the undead. Bree learns how to survive and fight, and when they reemerge from the bunker where they spent the first winter in, the new world is full of opportunities. With their most trusted friends, they form the Lucky Thirteen, a scavenger group ready to help the survivors in the settlements, always happy to slay some shamblers.
Only that their rise to gory glory doesn’t go unnoticed, and before long, Nate’s past catches up with him. They find themselves caught in a trap that none other than Nate’s former best friend and comrade-in-arms Bucky Hamilton has set for them. Bree gets savaged by zombies and barely makes it out alive, but instead of succumbing to the zombie virus, she survives—but with unforeseen consequences. She doesn’t know it yet, but the infection has taken hold deep inside her body, making it start to rot from the inside out. Civil war is brewing on the horizon, and after Bree gets kidnapped by the very same people who tried to kill her before, she’s had enough, calling on scavengers all over the country to help her end this madness. The assault on the army base in Colorado ends in a truce, all sides agreeing that the senseless loss of lives is not something the world ravaged by the zombie virus can take—but their triumph is short-lived.
When Bree realizes that her body didn’t kick the infection but is, in fact, deteriorating quickly, there is only one hope for her: to get inoculated with the serum that turned her husband and many of their friends into super-soldiers, yet ultimately, at their death, into zombies, and is directly connected to the outbreak of the plague that kicked off the apocalypse. The doctors at the army installation are able to save her life (if not all her limbs, intact) but that comes at a price: Bree and Nate are forced to cooperate with them, and get sent on a mission to France to retrieve information and a possible cure for the zombie virus—and none other than Hamilton is in command.
Raiding that underground lab turns into a nightmare when the former subjects studied there turn out to be a new breed of even stronger super-juiced zombies, and Nate almost gets killed. When he wakes up on the way home, he’s not quite the same anymore. Bree does her best to add her knowledge to the quest for a cure, but she knows it is futile, wishful thinking. She and Nate decide to disappear into exile since Hamilton issued a warning to them while they were in France: The reason why they keep getting caught up in the worst of the fray is because Nate’s old mentor, Decker, wants his favorite attack dog back by his side. Hiding from the world might just be the only way to evade that fate, and to keep their friends safe.
Two years pass until events catch up with them once more, and Bree soon finds out that the world has gone to hell in their absence. The civil war they helped incite but thought they’d ultimately prevented with the truce struck has turned into a nasty battle with multiple fronts, what little civilization had returned after the apocalypse now crumbling for good. Kidnapped by slavers, Bree manages to escape, but now needs the help of her old crew to spring Nate from his gruesome prison. She manages to rally support not just from her friends but other allied factions, among them the marines from the Silo, the army soldiers from their joint mission to France, but also her old scavenger buddies, now resembling a bunch of violent lunatics. Together, they launch a successfully attack on the slaver camp, liberating the prisoners and putting an end to the drug trafficking operations. Bree is surprised to find none other than Hamilton had also been wasting away in one of the prison cells—and now she’s stuck with him since Nate is adamant that his former friend is a vital asset he intends to put to good use.
Having been locked up and forced to kill in the arena at the camp has left its mark on Nate, and Bree is none too happy about the changes in her husband that she notices. But she has no time to dwell on that, because now the time has come for some payback—and that’s something she knows how to deliver.
Chapter 1
“Let’s get this party started.”
It didn’t feel like much of a party, I had to admit. Both the location and people present weren’t looking very festive, or in the mood for festivities. All of us had good reasons for that, I figured; coming together to beat the crap out of some human shit stain wasn’t necessarily a cause for celebration—and being on the receiving end of said intentions couldn’t be that much more fun. I also wasn’t sure if direct, physical aggression was the best thing for my two companions; neither Nate nor Bucky Hamilton looked very enthusiastic at the prospect, but that could have been due to months of trauma, lack of acceptable food sources, drug withdrawal, and sleep deprivation. I was rocking the tail end of what likely amounted to a tenth of what they’d been through, and curling up in a corner while listening to the storm rage outside sounded like a mighty fine plan. Compared to how I was feeling, Cindy—that would be Master Sergeant Cindy Cooper, formerly US Army and more recently pimp, drug lord, and one of my least favorite people around—looked downright peppy. The black eye she was sporting and light bruising along her jaw—both acquired yesterday when we’d hit the camp hard and had kicked the previous administration out—didn’t seem to bother her. That she knew who we were was a given. She had previously been under Bucky’s command from what I’d gathered, and besides, both he and Nate had racked up quite the notoriety status around here. I’d—not so gently—reminded her that we’d met two months ago when she’d shot me up with drugs that had almost incapacitated me but thankfully hadn’t prevented me from killing my way out from under the threat of rape and murder. Her relaxed attitude toward the men lurking behind me must have been an act, but I had the distinct suspicion that she wasn’t quite taking me seriously.
Nothing like dissuading people of that notion.
I was sure that she expected me to go right for a punch—and I was absolutely itching to oblige her—but if I’d learned something from how the previous leadership had handled things around here, it was that good ol’ violence was by far not the worst that someone could do to you. She was currently sitting on a high-backed chair that was bolted to the floor, ankles bound to the chair legs and wrists cuffed behind her back to keep her where she was—ideal for me to straddle her thighs and plunk myself down on her lap, my arms casually slung over her shoulders, like you’d do with a lover. Her eyes widened in surprise, and while she locked her muscles in place, I could feel her try to recoil physically—which was, of course, impossible, with the chair setup and all that. We hadn’t bothered with restraining her head or neck—mostly so she wouldn’t break quite that easily when punched—so technically, she could have tried to head-butt me or spit, but instead she just stared straight into my eyes. From up close, it was impossible not to see that her eyes were wide with fear and apprehension, however blasé she tried to act. Three years ago, knowing that I was the cause for that would have made revulsion well up inside of me. As it was, I felt a certain satisfaction roll up my spine. I might not have been the most dangerous person in this room, but I was far from easily ignored.
“We can do this the hard way, or the really fucking awful way,” I drawled, ending with a chipper smile that I absolutely didn’t feel. “You know that we kno
w what you did, and you can’t expect any of us to go easy on you. So why don’t you spare yourself the worst of it and spill your guts right here and now, and I can promise you that you won’t go through everything that you’ve subjected countless women to yourself.”
A muscle jumped in her cheek as she gritted her teeth, further steeling herself. Her tone was wry as she responded, not a hint of fear in it. Part of me envied her that level of composure.
“Gee, thanks. And here I thought you’d try to intimidate me.” Her gaze briefly flickered to who was lurking behind me, but rather than snub me further and address the guys, she looked back to me as she went on. “It shows so fucking plainly that you have no fucking idea what you’re doing. I’m not afraid of you, or anything you can think of threatening me with. I know that those are all empty threats. You don’t have the guts to follow through with anything.” Another pause, and her gaze dropped from my face for a moment. “And you are lacking the equipment to do so.”
Involuntarily, my fingers flexed in the well-worn leather gloves, but I kept my arms right where they rested on her shoulders. I’d considered taking off the gloves—bodily fluids were a bitch to clean off—but more so than usual, being surrounded by lots of people who could all so very obviously physically best me made me self-conscious about the missing bits and pieces all over again. Yet since I couldn’t very well ‘fess up to that—least of all to this scum—I forced a bright smile on my face, deliberately ignoring her insinuation—and turning it around on her again. Sorry, missy—you won’t get a chance to try to get into my head.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 43
