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

by Lecter, Adrienne

  I was still wheezing with laughter as I pulled off my gloves after rudimentarily wiping gore off my arms, and set to work. And my, having my mutilated fingers right in front of his face—the unmistakable price I had paid for getting infected and having the audacity to survive—seemed to upset Fletcher’s stomach greatly. Or that was just the onset of the virus-caused flu symptoms. I tried to remember how long it had taken for my body to start deteriorating, and realized that Fletcher was a tantalizingly close match. I didn’t tell him that as I first got rid of all manner of gore and dried blood before checking the wounds themselves. The shamblers had gotten him good, but not to the point where they’d managed to tear out chunks of flesh. Around the bite marks, the skin was swollen and red, and he definitely needed stitches where it was damaged enough to start bleeding as soon as I was done with cleanup. I was happy not to have to deal with that when Blake whipped out a small pouch and extracted a plastic syringe, handing it to me.

  “You still have reserves of the glue?” Last I remembered—which had been around the time I had gotten infected, actually—the Silo scientists had been working on upgraded versions of the booster shots and the glue, a wound coagulant that could knit together tissues well enough on the surface, and was great for deeper wounds yet needed removal later as the surrounding flesh could turn necrotic. One of my fondest memories of that still remained when, right at the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, Nate had managed to get speared by a rebar and Martinez had sealed up the wound with that shit, only to tell me two days later that I was the only one qualified to cut it right out of him again. Thankfully, the assholes hadn’t shared with me that Nate was fully conscious during that makeshift operation, or could have torn my head clean off had he died under my scalpel and converted. Fun times.

  “Aren’t you supposed to tell me something along the lines of it not being as bad as it looks?” Fletcher asked, his voice scratchy.

  I paused, taking a moment to catch his gaze. “Like, ‘just a flesh wound,’ you mean?” He nodded, even managed a slight smile. “Yeah, the problem is, you are right now the poster boy for newly infected with the zombie virus, and while I can very competently give you a timeline of what’s up next for you, I’m not sure that will help.”

  I didn’t miss the dejected look on his face even as I worked on spreading a thin layer of the glue across the deepest cuts. While I couldn’t use the rest in the syringe on half of our team, there was no sense in wasting it, so I wiped the top with a tissue doused with alcohol, closed it up, and let it disappear into my pack.

  “How long do I have, doc?” he asked. I wondered if I should clarify that he wasn’t that far off from my qualifications with that moniker.

  “To live? Probably another thirty hours, maybe even going on fifty. But you won’t be lucid or able to fight in five, six tops. Unless we are super fast with the cleanup of the lab, you’ll get to guard the back door that we’ll use to get inside, and that’s it.” He didn’t look too disturbed about the news. I couldn’t hold it against him. He was quickly succumbing to what felt like real influenza on speed; that wasn’t exactly a great condition to go all-out Rambo on anyone’s ass.

  “Guess that’s it, then,” he muttered, wincing as I finished slapping a bandage on my work.

  I hesitated for a moment, but then went for it. “You know, there’s a good chance they’ll have some serum samples in that lab. Maybe the original, or the upgrade, but even if it’s just the variant that the scavengers got—it’s a lease on life that adds months, if not years to your existence. More than enough time to finish this mission, and get to cash in on all the favors anyone still owes you.” Saying “to bring all your affairs in order” sounded too much like a death sentence—even if it was just that.

  Fletcher shook his head, the way he regarded me turning almost shrewd. “No, thanks. I saw the horror plain on your face when Hamilton broke it to you that you’re already more than halfway into zombie territory. I hate knowing that next week I won’t be around anymore, but then none of us could have seriously expected to survive this mission. I’ll go on my terms, when my time is up—and without becoming an issue to my people.” I must still have been bad about reining in my features as he cracked a small, if pained, smile. “What, you really think that our scientists couldn’t have reverse-engineered that serum shit if they’d wanted? When Hamilton dropped by that summer when you and your buddies went all ape-shit on his ass, the army even offered our squints stocks and the entire documentation. They declined, but I know they’ve been in contact with the USAMRIID R&D branch ever since. If you ask me, they knew they were dodging a bullet, not saying no to an opportunity of a lifetime. Bet you didn’t know that, huh?”

  I didn’t, but it wasn’t that much of a surprise, particularly since, far as I knew, Petty Officer Stanton had remained with Emily Raynor in the Canadian base, both because she probably continued to need medical attention that no other place on earth could give her, and to act as a liaison. We’d seen ourselves that Wilkes, the Silo’s commander, was more than happy to cut deals with everyone if his people might profit, and he could keep them free and alive in their little facility. My bitterness only stemmed from the fact that I personally was banned—or had been; considering that Blake, who’d had to serve as my personal watchdog on my last visit, was now working with us, maybe Wilkes had changed his mind. Then again, the list of places where I wasn’t allowed to enter was probably longer than that of where I was welcome, so it wasn’t like Wilkes was singling me out that much. Wilkes had more reason than most of the others, even though it hadn’t been my fault that his scientists had been stupid enough not to make sure that asshole guy I’d infected was dead for good. Complicated shit, and simply banning me was the easiest solution.

  Fletcher looked annoyed when I gave him a wry grin. “No, I wasn’t aware of that, but since I’ve likely met all people involved, I’m far from surprised.” When he kept staring at me weirdly, I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but where the safety of people—and a possible cure for the fucking zombie virus—is concerned, I try very hard to keep my personal quarrels and ethics out of the game. I didn’t exactly volunteer when Hamilton dragged me across the globe and almost got my husband killed in Paris, but I still spent the entire way back going over the notes we found there and doing my best to contribute my expertise to their cause. And that’s also the reason why I’m here now. I, personally, have long since given up on getting vengeance, or satisfaction for anything anyone has done. All there is for me in this game is to hope we can prevent worse from happening, and to stop the shit that’s already in motion. So, good for you if you look forward to blowing your brains out later tonight when you realize you’ll soon be too frail to do it yourself if you wait much longer than that. If you need help, I’m happy to lend you my shotgun.”

  After cleaning my hands again, I straightened and set to putting my gloves back on, finding most of our illustrious bunch watching me. Ignoring them, I checked on what Sonia was doing. She looked about finished herself, so I grabbed some water and jerky from my pack and did my best to fuel up my body since it would have to last me a while longer still. Part of me waited for Nate to check in with me, but I wasn’t terribly disappointed that he didn’t. He and Hamilton were busy poring over their maps, and since that very knowledge had just saved my life, I couldn’t really gripe about it.

  It turned out, the group that had left the park on the westernmost street had made it here in almost a straight line with minimal resistance. We had them to thank for finding the iron door that had blocked the entrance to the tunnel, just as the second group had come running, chased by a few shamblers. That would have been those we’d run into once we’d made it out of the pedestrian tunnels. All in all, it had only been my fireteam that had, rather successfully, landed in deep shit and had needed help with the extraction. Hill, following Eden and Amos here, explained that they hadn’t even realized the depth of the shit the three of us had landed ourselves in. One
wrong turn and a seemingly smart decision will do that to you, I figured.

  With everyone patched up as well as could be expected, we finally set out. The zombies on the other side of the iron door had quieted down somewhat, most likely having wandered off. Since the area here was surprisingly clean—for railroad tunnels that had been abandoned long before any one of us had been born, but the shamblers did manage to destroy and stink up a place in no time—I hoped that these tunnels had somehow remained undisturbed, at least the part here leading to the lab. There were no signs anyone had come through here before us beyond where Marleen and Scott had scouted ahead so it couldn’t have been the entrance the Chemist and his people had frequently used, but simply not getting tackled and chomped at for the rest of our journey sounded damn good.

  As Nate told us to get ready—this time for real—it got quite apparent that our previous fireteams didn’t make sense anymore. The Silo marines were still at four people but Scott’s group was down to three, same as the Army bunch, and of the scavengers only Eden and Amos remained. To me, it would have made sense to combine these groups two and two, but I was clearly the only one who thought that way. You wouldn’t have believed the instant animosity that arose when I offered up that suggestion, just as if we weren’t locked in underneath a mega city teeming with the undead. While both the scavengers and army guys were happy to cooperate with me, they glared bloody murder at each other, and the marines amongst themselves still hadn’t buried their hatchet, either. Nate looked mostly amused at my frustration, probably having anticipated shit like that to happen. Very diplomatically—and very unlike his usual self—he instead suggested that his group split up, moving Marleen to Scott, Sonia and Burns to Blake’s people, and the two scavengers would do just as well on their own as he and Hamilton would. I had to admit, I was happy to stick with Richards—particularly if having Bucky breathing down my neck was the alternative—but it still irked me to realize nothing much had changed. Then again, why should it have? Just because our people were dying like flies, and, likely, the worst was yet to come?

  Since the cat was out of the bag about the side effects of the serum, it made the most sense that Nate, Hamilton, and my fireteam went first, going ahead of those that would need flashlights to navigate in the pitch-dark tunnels. It wasn’t like any of us could see in complete darkness, but the illumination behind us would likely be enough and preserve most of our low-light vision. Hamilton took point, smirking as he stepped past me into the tunnel, for whatever reason. I was too exhausted to give a shit, really.

  I hadn’t bothered to ask if this was the entrance they had planned to use or a different one. Since we were definitely on the right track, I didn’t do so now. I had to admit, I had expected something different. “Train” always made me think of those endless Amtrak things—or the good old steam engines from Wild West movies. What we found here was neither one nor the other as, for one, the tunnels weren’t sized for full-on modern trains with twenty cars. From what I’d gleaned overhearing the others, the network had been built to distribute goods and serve as an alternative to the clogged-up overground traffic routes. It made sense to go for smaller cars then that could be loaded with cargo quickly and moved to and fro without much ado. But all of that was gone now, at least in this part of the network, except for the rails. It was all a little underwhelming—just endless, dark tunnels interspersed with abandoned freight elevators. The tunnels must have been open to the surface in places as the air wasn’t too dank and the sound of water dripping echoed around us, and the odd rodent scurried away as we got closer. They still made me jump, but I much preferred them to the shamblers aboveground.

  I was surprised when, less than an hour later, Nate signaled us down what looked like an off-shoot side tunnel, announcing we had arrived. Disappointingly, there was no sign announcing “secret lab” or anything similar. All I could see was another dilapidated freight elevator next to a metal frame and door that had seen better days even when the railroad had still been active. What was also missing were any signs of recent usage.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “We are presuming that the Chemist and his buddies fled to here, right? Doesn’t look like anyone came in this way.”

  Hamilton was only too happy to enlighten me. “As we said before, this is the back door. Presumably, they’ve arrived days ago taking a different approach.” His expression turned belligerent. “Need me to sketch you a diagram?”

  I shook my head, hating that I’d run straight into this one. “How sure are you that this leads anywhere?”

  “Guess we’ll find out soon,” was all I got from him.

  I had to admit, I felt a little vindicated when, once everyone was ready, Hamilton tried the door and it wouldn’t budge. No amount of force worked. What a shame. I knew better than to articulate any of that but couldn’t help but smirk. At least until Hill dropped his pack and got out the C4.

  Cheaters.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that they came prepared, and considering that Nate and Burns were both bona fide pyromaniacs—sadly, not a talent you got to use much when civilization goes belly up—and even had certification for that, I could have counted on it coming in handy sooner or later. That apparently they’d found another enthusiast of all things that could go boom in Hill was just perfect. The fact that Sonia also sported a somewhat annoyed expression made me wonder what explosion-related shit I’d been missing while Nate and I had been hiding in the middle of nowhere.

  All of us retreated to behind the last bend in the tunnel when it was time to set off the charges, with only Hill and Nate remaining behind to do the deed. The resulting “boom” was loud enough that I was sure zombies over in Houston must have heard it, too, and I felt the shockwave even with that much distance to its cause. On our return, I found the entire door gone and what felt like a whole city block of pulverized dirt in the air, making me cough and my eyes sting. Great—just how much asbestos had been in that? Maybe that would kill me before the serum had a chance to do the trick.

  Massive as the explosion had been—and successful as well—it only helped us so much as the door might have been gone, but there was one at the other end of a short connective tunnel just like it. Rinse, repeat. With that gone, we still weren’t more than pulverized bedrock and thirty feet farther, at the next door—but this one was an improvement, relatively speaking. It looked much newer, came with an electronic keypad that was working, seemed even more massive than the other two doors, and there was a camera—trained in our direction—above it. I looked straight at it and waved, figuring that after two massive detonations, playing coy made only so much sense. I doubted they’d simply let us in if we lied and claimed we were selling girl scout cookies. Nate gave me a vexed look before he went to investigate the door closer.

  “Oh, you’re just annoyed you can’t use your boomstick for knocking down these doors,” Cole accused as he joined me off to the side, grinning at my shotgun. The tomahawks had been useful—and necessary—for the shamblers, but if I could avoid going into melee from here on forward, I was all for it. Shotguns still produced enough gore and splatters that I’d have that aspect covered. I didn’t reward his statement with an answer.

  “Try zero-zero-zero-zero-zero,” I suggested. Nate and Hill ignored me. Burns chuckled under his breath. Hamilton grimaced—but tried it nevertheless. The keypad gave an indignant beep, the indicator above it flashing red. “One-two-three-four-five, maybe?” I helpfully provided. Hamilton, still smirking, looked tempted, but Nate knocked his hand away when he reached for the pad again.

  “We have no clue what happens when we guess the code wrong five times,” he suggested.

  “You mean, like poisonous gas getting released?” I figured it was a valid guess. “Or are you afraid the two detonations weren’t enough to alert everyone of our presence?”

  Nate ignored me in favor of looking at Hill’s pack. “How much more do we have left?”

  Hill shrugged. “Enough for this do
or, if it’s not too heavily reinforced. But that’s it.”

  “Then let’s do this.”

  Already familiar with the proceedings, the rest of us were about to file out when Cole spoke up. “I know I’m the first to give Lewis shit, but try nine-nine-nine-nine-nine.” Nate gave him a deadpan stare, which made Cole shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time that some admin or another got annoyed with his people constantly forgetting the current passcode. Shit, I know I’ve done it. Not with anything this simple, but—”

  Nate had already turned around and was hitting the keypad, which emitted five identical beeps—and then the door swung outward. I wasn’t the only one that jumped, which might have been satisfying under different circumstances. Thankfully, no one’s head got blown off. That had to count for something. Nate and Hamilton shared a look, then Hamilton eased the door open with his assault rifle, ready for anything. I’d expected another door—because that would have been hilarious, if really bad for us—or some high-tech shit, but instead we were greeted with something that looked like a mix between a decontamination chamber and a foyer. It only took a minute to clear the room which meant I got to explore it soon enough. The hazmat suits I’d expected were there all right, but at a closer look they were rather different than what I was used to. “Are we sure that this is a bioweapons lab? Because that setup looks more like what you’d use for radiation decontamination than viral warfare.”