Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12

by Lecter, Adrienne

  “You do realize that she’s just one woman, right? And not getting any younger.”

  It was easy to shrug off Red’s comment. “So am I. And just consider how much of a nuisance I’ve become for you, and without even trying really hard.”

  Richards didn’t have a rebuke for that, but I heard Cole mutter a succinct, “At least it’s not going to be boring around here any time soon.” Truer words had seldom been spoken.

  Chapter 4

  The storm continued to rage throughout the night, but much to my surprise broke the following morning. By midday, the rain eased up and let a few tentative rays of sunshine through the endless cloud cover. By afternoon, the world had turned into a humid, hot nightmare again, the few hours of respite between the extremes not enough to make me feel alive. The shakes had eased up, but that only made it easier for me to concentrate on how drained and miserable I felt. I’d figured the withdrawal would run a similar course as the first time, when I’d escaped and made my way to the settlement where Richards and his men had picked me up; reality was a long shot from that, the mental impact far stronger this time.

  We’d wasted another hour with Cindy, but I’d held myself in the background, listening only while Hamilton did the talking—and surprisingly little punching. Realizing that what we’d done to her had broken her spirit only added to my pervasive sense of malaise, and I was almost glad for Bucky’s presence as that meant I couldn’t own up to this and let myself fall into that black, black hole at the bottom of my soul. Nate and Hamilton also talked to a few of the less insane former prisoners, but there was woefully little to gain from that in terms of information. Scott had in the meantime finished his maps, and the marines and soldiers together had compiled a list of possible assets we could use for whatever we decided to do going forward. My first impression of how the camp had grown to this size and managed to sustain itself—strength in numbers and a reign of terror that coexisted in a climate of utter incompetence—seemed to be truer than I was comfortable with. The scavengers turned out to be the camp’s lifeblood, trading everything needed for drugs, food, and short-lived entertainment—and judging from the half-empty stores, they hadn’t managed well on the food side of things. In hindsight, our triumphant victory turned somewhat stale when it became obvious that it had worked mainly because nobody before us had tried in earnest to overthrow the leadership—and the fact that not just the Chemist and most of his team, but also several of Cortez’s lieutenants had disappeared just before the storm hit with us riding shotgun made it even worse. Ten people sneaking inside under the cover of darkness might have been enough to end the constant misery of a shitload of prisoners. In what used to be Cortez’s quarters, the Ice Queen found a ledger with names—or what went for them, seeing as Cortez hadn’t known the real identity of most of his victims—of arena fighters that had perished. Nobody had counted them, but the fact that the list spanned pages upon pages and didn’t even factor in the women who had died in the kennels made me really sorry that Nate had killed that asshole so quickly. Those very numbers also made me suspect that the arena fighters hadn’t been the only ones who had been fed a constant diet of disreputable protein sources. Considering that the livestock rounded up barely accounted for what the scavengers must be consuming in a few weeks, I didn’t want to know what had sustained the farm workers.

  With room for over fifty people needed so everyone could be part of our big planning session, the arena turned out to be the most suitable place for that. I couldn’t help but cringe inside as I strode through the gates behind Nate and Hamilton, both outwardly calm but, without a doubt, not so on the inside. Hamilton had turned up later this morning with no sign of the women he’d vacated the premises with, but I presumed he hadn’t eaten them. I hadn’t slept much that night but as far as I could tell that was still a lot more rest than Nate had gotten, yet far be it from him to ease up on the pressure he put on himself to keep going. Our entire assault group was present except for a handful of people set up to guard the entrances, including the scavengers and a few others that Harris insisted should be here. Already, he seemed to have started weeding out the people he felt he wanted to work with, but his enthusiasm about running the show had markedly cooled off when they’d realized that food was about to run out, and everyone who had any interest in synthesizing more drugs was either dead or gone. Frankly, I was surprised that nobody had pulled me aside yet to take over operations, or at least train a replacement, but then people seemed to associate me more with being Nate’s wife than a scientist. To say the arena felt just as ready to blow up as during the fight where I’d watched Nate tear out and eat that guy’s heart was an understatement.

  When the Ice Queen gave him a brief nod, Nate stepped into the middle of the loose circle we had gathered in, more or less split into groups according to our affiliations. “Thank you all for joining me here,” he called out, doing a quick turn and stopping with his back to where Pia and I were standing side by side with Hamilton lurking close by. “Now that the storm has blown over, it is time for action.” No cheers rose, but particularly from the scavengers I got a weird sense of excitement. “We’ve had time aplenty to gather what little knowledge there was to glean from the few people who used to be in command who didn’t run away like the cowards they are, or died with little more backbone than that.” I didn’t miss the grim look of satisfaction on his face—well-earned, but also disconcerting. A round of cheers went up, but died down as soon as Nate went on talking.

  “What we need to know now is simple: who was responsible for this? Where did those cowards that fled run to? And what are the consequences that we need to deal with?” He half-turned so that he was facing Harris and his fellow scavengers. “We said we were happy to let you continue to run the show here if that’s what you want. We will need to take some of the ammo with us that we found and a limited amount of food, but the rest is yours to do with as you see fit. I hope you are still happy with that arrangement?”

  A few of the scavengers looked less enthusiastic, but Harris inclined his head with befitting gravitas for a newly-minted mayor. “We will do our best to keep the operations running. It’s anyone’s guess whether we’ll manage to get enough food from the fields to make it through the winter, but we won’t abandon those poor, lost souls to their fate.” He must have been referring to the workers. “You can count on us.”

  That last bit surprised me; not so Nate, who accepted it with a nod. “The first good news in a long time,” he offered—and turned back to the gathering at large. “And likely, it will remain the only good news. Killing Cortez was necessary—and will forever be the kill I will feel the least conflicted about in my entire life—but it solves little, and changes nothing. As we have had to discover, that this camp exists and how it treated some of its denizens is the least of our problems.” I was surprised when he turned to me next. “Bree, will you please explain to Harris and his people what exactly has been done to them?”

  I had not seen that one coming—and would have greatly appreciated a warning—but my stunned look did a thing or two to ease some of the tempers that looked ready to explode amidst the murmurs that rose in the scavenger quadrant. At his wave, I stepped forward to join him, yearning for another mug of strong coffee to jump-start my brain. I could have done without the smirk on Hamilton’s face, too.

  Turning to the scavengers, I did my best to sort my frayed thoughts. “All that I can tell you is speculation, built on what little we’ve managed to extract from one of the Chemist’s assistants. I presume you all got what you thought was an updated version of the serum?” Silence settled over the arena, hanging like the death shroud over us that I figured it was for some of them. A few of them nodded, and the alarmed looks on the other faces was confirmation aplenty. “As I said, it’s all speculation, but I don’t think that’s a stable, safe version of the serum.”

  I’d expected one of the more vocal scavengers like Eden to speak up now, but she and Amos were like calm pillars of co
nfidence next to Harris. It was one of the other leaders who got in my face. “Yeah? Well, we can’t all be like you and suck the right dicks to get celebrity treatment!”

  I was sorely tempted to inform him in no uncertain terms that he was sorely mistaken of how I had gotten my dose, but at least the resulting anger that came up inside of me helped my mind to focus.

  Mimicking his tone, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah, but you were with us at the Colorado base where I struck a truce with the very people responsible and forced them to admit that one of their rogue elements had infected hundreds of soldiers with that shit! What’s your excuse to come knocking a few months later and ask to be next in line?” Deafening silence answered me, but I didn’t feel an ounce of satisfaction at that.

  Harris spoke up when nobody else would. “But didn’t we do away with that asshole scientist who screwed over all those soldiers? And I vaguely remember you blamed him for the outbreak of the zombie plague as well.”

  All I could do was nod. “Yes, we killed him. And yes, I thought he was the root of all evil and doing away with him would, if not negate what had happened, put an end to it continuing to happen. Soon after that I heard doubt from others, and it’s obvious that, whether he was responsible or not, someone else has picked up the torch. I presume you know about how the mindless worker drones became what they are? Some of them are the soldiers from back then. Most are your people who have succumbed to the virus, only without fully turning into undead killing machines.”

  I expected the scavenger leader to get in my face again, but it was a woman standing a short distance to the side who spoke up now. “We knew the risks involved,” she insisted, her words drawing a few murmurs but only until she silenced the others with a glare. “We knew, but most of us didn’t care. Don’t realize you’re already dead versus being close to invincible? Even knowing what I know now, I’d get the shot all over again.” Several others agreed with her, and even those who remained silent looked determined to have chosen wisely. Frustration didn’t begin to describe what I was feeling.

  “But how could you—” I started to say, only to be interrupted by my least favorite person on earth as Hamilton stepped forward to join me and Nate.

  “Because they still have no fucking clue what they agreed to,” he said, not having to raise his voice much to be heard clearly throughout the arena. His smirk remained directed at me for a few seconds before he turned to the audience at large, stepping a little to the left to put physical distance between himself and Nate and me. “And they are not the only ones.”

  This was getting better and better. I had the creeping feeling that I wouldn’t like what he was about to say—which got a million times worse when, rather than address the entire arena, Hamilton zeroed in on me.

  “How are you feeling on this fine day, Lewis? How real is your concern for your fellow scavengers? Or are you simply vexed that someone did something you disagree with and won’t see reason even when you explain their own stupidity to them?” That didn’t deserve an answer, and Hamilton barely left me five seconds before he went on, his tone turning even more nasty. “And when, exactly, did your snowflake ass turn into a master interrogator and torturer? I’ve heard that, on your crusade to Colorado to presumably kick our asses into submission, you weren’t shy to dish out a few punches so they’d get some traitors talking, but pulling out a helpless woman’s teeth? Tearing out her fingernails one by one? Cutting off her fingers segment by segment, particularly considering how that must have echoed with your own, personal trauma? Or should I say, should have? Let’s not even talk about the fact that you can eat whatever you want without a hint of revulsion, or have a zombie’s low-light vision.”

  My riling mind couldn’t come up with anything to respond with—and I meant really anything; my thoughts were completely wiped clear, the only thing remaining a latent sense of dread that kept rising as he continued, staring at Nate now. “And don’t get me started on your dietary requirements.” He snorted, sending a sidelong glance my way. “You still think he just got a taste for it? Think again. I watched him retch up what normal food he tried to eat several times over the last two days. You would have noticed, too, if you weren’t so damn lovestruck—or did you zone out a time or two and miss it because of that?”

  The fact that Nate didn’t even try to protest gave me the heebie-jeebies, but as such things went, it was so much easier to get defensive than to think clearly. “All that can easily be explained with the shitload of trauma we’ve been through. And you’re not exactly a paragon of sanity, either.”

  Hamilton laughed, and I hated that it sounded awfully like agreement. “Sure as hell I’m not,” he told me with what must have been the first borderline nice smile in my direction ever. I hoped I’d never see that again. “And why should I be different? Just like you, and him, and a lot of other people, I got inoculated with the serum, and I believed the lies that they told us. Not even lies—none of us knew any better. The fact, plain and simple, is that no single version of the serum was ever foolproof against the zombie virus. It just gave us an extension of life. But that first bite or scratch was all it took to sign our death warrants. Just like with anybody else.”

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if a fanfare of doom-and-gloom music had started blasting from the speakers the arena was rigged with just then. It would have been the perfect baseline for how my heart started to race, loud enough to drown out all other sound—and there was quite the confused shouting going on all around us. I turned to look at Nate, sure that he would be full of the same denial that I was hanging on to with dear life—but only found grim acceptance. So back in Hamilton’s smirking face it was.

  “That’s bullshit!” I shouted, loud enough to be heard over the din, which incidentally shut most people up. “Plain and simple! That can’t be true.”

  Hamilton chuckled. “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it so,” he jeered—and was only too happy to keep rambling on with his bullshit theory. “Some—those who were lucky and only had a few encounters with the undead—still have a few more years until their time runs out. Others—like you, and Miller, and me—got up close with the zombies way too often for there to be much immunity left. Well, you’re possibly the worst, because I can’t think of anyone else who actually started rotting from the inside out, but he’s not that far behind. The signs are obvious, and I’m sure I’ve missed listing quite some more. We’ve had instances of unexplained instant conversion for years, and they have gotten awfully common of late. You were there in France when Rodriguez bit it on that blasted golf course and came back before anyone could put her down for good. How do you explain that?” He paused for a moment. “Don’t trust me? Trust one of your own.” He turned to the Ice Queen of all people, who stared back at him without a hint of emotion on her face. “Zilinsky, you tell her: how many of your people have turned over the past two years who shouldn’t have?”

  She hesitated, glancing at Nate for guidance, but answered when nothing came. “Five.” Reluctance was heavy in her tone, and it took me a few moments to identify it as my own dread’s twin. “Two could have been suicides. And a third might have died in the fire. But we had two instances of people dying in the middle of the night with no natural cause or explanation. And all of them came back.”

  My need for denial was so strong that it threatened to choke me, but there had to be an explanation for this outside of what Hamilton was alluding to. Maybe voicing it would make it obvious just how ridiculous his theory was? “So what you are saying is that the scavengers aren’t slowly turning because the serum they got was faulty, but everyone who ever got inoculated is, only their version is acting at different speeds than ours? That makes no sense!”

  The sardonic smile I got in return just added to the dread clawing at my throat. “Then why do you think they had me deliver a dose of the weaponized version we got from France to their primary testing facility?” Gears started spinning in my head, but not because his question was so
hard to process—no. I hadn’t expected him to be that outright and honest. I was still gaping at Hamilton when he turned back to the gathering at large, but mostly glanced Nate’s way as if he was answering the questions Nate had posed minutes ago. “I can’t tell you the why and how of everything that has been going on here, but a few things are obvious. Whoever is behind this shit has been using this camp as a real-time testing ground for years, with fresh-blood guinea pigs lining up faster than they could have churned out serum versions to test on them.” I was certain his phrasing was deliberate, stressing the same term Cortez had used for the first-time arena fighters. I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the implications. Yet when Hamilton’s gaze zeroed in on me, I got the sense that he hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

  “You think those brain-dead workers are the negatives?” he asked, and I was sure that was a personal question directed at me. He went on talking without waiting for an answer. “I say, there’s a good chance that they are the independent alternate experimental setup.” His stare, unwavering, continued to bore into me. “Remember my warning? Dying to save others isn’t the worst thing that could happen to any of us.”

  It took me a moment to make the connection—and when I finally did, my previous dread paled in comparison to the phantom fingers closing around my neck. “You mean, someone is turning their own army of super-soldiers who will do whatever they are told because they no longer have a mind of their own to consider whether the order they are following is one worth following?”

  The hint of annoyance creeping onto Hamilton’s face didn’t make up for his belligerent smile. “We have a needlessly convoluted winner.”