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

by Lecter, Adrienne

  I didn’t like his assessment of Nate but couldn’t exactly protest there. I still hesitated but then spilled the beans on the most recent update on my reproductive status. He was grinning brightly before I even got to finish my last sentence, hugging me tightly enough that the fresh bandages felt loose in comparison. “That’s fantastic news!”

  I stared at him for several seconds flat. “Did you miss the part where both of us are dying?”

  Martinez didn’t even have the grace to look taken aback. “Yes, eventually, but not right now!” He seemed to be waiting for his enthusiasm to catch on. When all I had for him was a flat stare, a light frown appeared on his forehead. “Why aren’t you happy? I get that it’s a shock, and I understand if you’re foaming-at-the-mouth livid that they did this to you without telling you, but why the sour look?”

  I hadn’t realized that my expression was mirroring my feelings that accurately. “There’s the small detail that just because nothing is keeping me from getting knocked up doesn’t mean it’s possible. And we are heading into war, which makes this absolutely the last priority on a very long list.” Martinez regarded me as if I was stupid but had the sense not to tell me that. At his insistent patience I finally brought up the part that actually rubbed me the wrong way. “And Sonia and I had a little heart-to-heart where she told me how much Nate and me deciding to hide from the world screwed you all over and that I have no right to expect you all to just forgive us like that, and, yeah, she’s not wrong.”

  Part of me was satisfied to watch the angry twist come to Martinez’s lips, and I wondered what his internal monologue must have looked like in the few seconds he took to calm down and search for the right words. “Well, she’s not,” he finally settled on saying. “Right, I mean. No kidding, you both up and disappearing threw us for a loop, but not because you were gone. It was because we didn’t know what contingency to plan for. Burns didn’t tell us a thing, which turned into quite the rift for a while—which I think she caught on to when he brought her to live with us. I admit, I may have said a few unflattering things about you both, but nothing worse than you’ve called me to my face. She must have gotten a very wrong idea about the dynamics of how our group works.”

  “She said you were floundering because you didn’t know what to do, and also because Zilinsky wouldn’t assume leadership since she was holding the place open for someone else.”

  Martinez blinked, clearly irritated. “That’s because she never wanted to be a leader. A few of the imbeciles that didn’t get it begged her to become mayor, and she threatened to kick them out if they ever brought it up again. She never wanted to be responsible for anyone, and that hasn’t changed.”

  That confused me. “But she’s been Nate’s XO for fucking forever.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Martinez insisted. “His executive officer. The one who makes sure everything is running smoothly and everyone knows what their tasks are. But she doesn’t like giving the overarching orders. Miller left her with little more than to make sure our civvies were taken care of, and not to—accidentally or deliberately—start a new war. She did exactly that. That Burns brought nothing for us back made it obvious that we were to be kept in oblivion. Did that suck? You bet. But I think both Zilinsky and Romanoff agreed that Miller must have had a very good, non-selfish reason for that, and going on what I know now, there couldn’t have been that many possibilities they considered. Venting was the only thing we could do, so that’s what we did. It also played well into the narrative of him abandoning us.”

  That made sense, even if it didn’t do much to alleviate my guilt. “She also pretty much called me a self-centered cunt.”

  Martinez seemed to be waiting for more, giving me a shrewd look when I kept my trap shut. “And?”

  “And what?”

  His smile was dazzling, and not entirely nice. “Are you contending that point? Because I thought that, by now, you’d know better than to lie to yourself.”

  “Very funny,” I harped.

  He was still smiling, but now toned it down to a more amicable expression. “Bree, I’ve watched you become the woman you are now—although I’m still playing catch-up with the last legs of that journey. You turned into who you are because you had to. Miller made you into this—”

  I tried to protest but he talked right over me.

  “—and you actively helped him. I get it. Sometimes you hate it—all of it. That it was necessary. How many people ended up left dead because of it. What it did to you. War sucks, if you haven’t learned that lesson yet, and what else is the apocalypse, really? I bet you didn’t bargain for everything you agreed to when you threw in your lot with Miller, but you’ve always been an all-or-nothing kind of woman. That’s what people admire about you, and that’s why we trust and follow you. You can’t please everyone, and I honestly didn’t think you’d try. What do you care whether Sonia likes you? Just so you know, she doesn’t like me much, either. Probably because I’ve always defended you. We, who know you well, are allowed to bad-mouth you. She hasn’t earned that benefit yet.”

  “She did put me back together,” I admitted grudgingly. “That should count for something.”

  Martinez uttered an exasperated sigh. “If you want to be difficult, sure. But, seriously, who cares? There’s a good chance she only meant half of what she flung in your face. She had less than a month to really get to know you, but years of stories that were, at best, wildly exaggerated. I’d like to think that you’re more than a trigger-happy bitch with a penchant for convenient disappearances.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “But I am that, too.”

  He gave me a deadpan stare before making sure that his work here was done—physically, but also psychologically. “Anything else on your mind? We can keep up this one-issue-each-evening thing if you like, but it would be much easier if you dumped it all on me at once so I can deal with it and get back to my life.”

  “Why, am I turning into a nuisance?” I teased.

  He grimaced. “I can’t make fun of you when you get all depressed and serious on me. I miss making fun of you. I need it to feel complete and cozy.”

  I gave him a critical look for that. “I think you need to get laid.”

  Martinez laughed, although he seemed slightly scandalized. “Yeah, that, too. Speaking of which—”

  I quickly raised both hands between us to forestall him. “I’m so not against you dishing the dirty on what’s going on between your sheets, but I need booze before you start.”

  His mouth twisted into a disapproving line, but laughter was still sparkling in his eyes. “Maybe for external disinfection, but I’m not letting you put your body under any more stress than it already is in! But this is serious.”

  I made a face, but when I realized he wasn’t having it, I gave him a grave nod. “Sure. What’s up?”

  He hesitated—which usually wasn’t a good sign—but the slightly uneasy feeling in my stomach quickly disappeared when he explained what was on his mind in turn. “If you actually get pregnant, I want to be the baby’s godfather.”

  Still, I couldn’t help but frown slightly. “Not that I’m protesting—and I really am not. If I’d given a second’s consideration to the topic beyond panic, you’d have been right at the top of my list of candidates. But this sounds more serious to you than just a token nod of appreciation.” And as much as I was happy to ignore the fact that he was scores more religious than me, this also didn’t sound like he felt it was his obligation to combat our heathendom.

  Martinez looked exceptionally nervous all of a sudden, stopping his bona fide hand-wringing when he saw me frown. “Once this shitstorm that’s going on has blown over, I’m going to propose to Charlie. And, well, neither of us is ever going to have any biological children, and since you’re hell-bent on expecting not to live much past your kid’s birth, I might just as well point out that I fully intend to step up to the challenge.” He softened the impact of that with a slight smile. “Plus, someone has to teach th
at poor thing manners, and how to be a good human being. No offense, but you take pride in being the poster child for the opposite. I’ve long since given up on saving your soul, but the kid deserves at least a fighting chance.”

  I didn’t know how to react to that—too many emotions at once—so I decided to take it one offense at a time, starting with the most bone-crushing hug I could manage. “I’m so happy for you both,” I whispered before letting go, hard-pressed not to give him a shit-eating grin. “But I’m not quite sure if I can inflict that on any offspring of mine. It sounds like a terrible fate—growing up with two loving surrogate parents who will try their best to turn my hell spawn into a decent human being? I feel like I need to set some ground rules up ahead of time for that.” His squint made me laugh. “Oh, come on! Next you’ll tell me you’ll get ready to stop me from eating the baby as soon as it comes splashing out of my uterus. I mean, maybe the placenta, but I’d give the little critter time to fatten up some.” And my, didn’t that stupid sentence do a number on me, considering Nate’s dietary changes. For a morbid moment only I asked myself, would I feed him my placenta? Probably, if it kept him from losing it and eating our child instead. All that screaming and blood involved could throw off the best of fathers…

  It was real concern shining on Martinez’s expression when he muttered, “Normally, I’d say ‘penny for your thoughts’ but considering how dark they often run, I don’t think I want to know.” He paused, his frown increasing when I didn’t protest. “You know you can tell me absolutely everything. It’s bad enough that you feel you need to physically keep me away from some things—and you are absolutely right with that. At least for Dallas you were right. But I’m your friend. Trust me, I can take it.”

  “I know,” I was quick to assure him—which earned me a scowl I totally deserved. Pressing my lips together, I tried to weigh my options, but when my eyes fell on the camp around us, full of people I was kind of in command of but barely knew except for a handful, I realized my need to keep my thoughts to myself was overrated. Leaning my ass back against the car, I sighed, briefly rubbing my eyes with the back of my glove. “It’s easy to ignore some things with everything that’s going on, you know? Things I’d much rather ignore than deal with, even though I’m well aware that they might eventually come to bite me in the ass if I ignore them for too long.”

  Martinez relaxed a little, and I could tell that it was a deliberate show for me. Inside, he must have been steeling himself. “Knowing your track record, they will bite you in the ass, and harder and maybe more literally than you’d expect.”

  I was snorting loudly before I could turn it into a fake laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  There was so much I needed to say—and should have, really, but when I remained silent, thinking, Martinez took it upon himself to start prodding. “You two talked about what happened in those, what was it? Nine weeks while you were apart?” I nodded, still not elaborating. “Talked about everything? Even the painful parts that are likely to tear open old wounds you’ve become so very good at pretending don’t exist?”

  I had a certain feeling I knew exactly what he was talking about—as did he—and realized I couldn’t leave it at just another nod. “Yes, we did. Once. I think that’s all he’s willing to give himself. And no, I’m not completely torn up over it, or that he’s as closed-mouthed as ever, and no, I’m also not wallowing in the agony of my own past. What happened, happened. That’s it. Nothing changes that. We have much more pressing issues that we can actually do something about. I’d much rather concentrate on those.”

  Martinez took that with a frown but eventually inclined his head. “Like what?” he asked, his tone still casually neutral.

  “You heard Hamilton’s speech in the arena, right?” He nodded. “He’s right, and I don’t see it getting any better going forward.”

  Real anger flashed in his eyes, and it was quite bemusing for me to realize that Martinez was livid at Bucky—for once, someone was ready to fully take my side without compromise. “You can’t really believe the bullshit he keeps spewing in your direction? Yeah, you may not be a bleeding heart, but you weren’t that way before you got infected, either.”

  I almost laughed when I realized where he’d gone wrong. “Ugh, yeah. Not about that. Am I a little disconcerted about how downright easy it has become for me to play judge, jury, and executioner? But, yes, I fully realize all that was necessary to survive. And somebody has to do the job. No, I’m talking about Nate’s… feeding habits.”

  Martinez gave me a weird look—full of misunderstanding—likely at my weird phrasing. “So he’s gone full carnivore. Hate to break it to you, but most of the guys in the field I’ve been serving with much preferred steak over salad. From a nutritional standpoint, going for fat and protein over carbs when you’re forced to go through long stretches without reliable food sources isn’t the worst idea. I’m sure you’re familiar with the principle of ketosis—”

  He broke off when he realized why I was scowling. “He’s eating people, chico,” I pressed out, trying to keep my voice from carrying. “Not jerky. Not steak. Not even fresh game. People. Hamilton wasn’t wrong about that. I don’t think that’s particularly good for his sanity, and I’m not quite sure how much it’s even working.”

  Martinez didn’t like hearing that but he didn’t look as scandalized as I’d expected; more like he was fighting hard to clamp down on any number of morbidly curious questions. “Okay. Like, how isn’t it working?” He grimaced. “I didn’t miss the part where we realized that they’d been feeding the dead prisoners to the alive ones. That’s why Hamilton almost starved to death—he refused to eat any of that. Miller was a lot smarter about it. I thought Hamilton was trying to rub the emotional impact of that in. You sure were barfing more than either of them, so I chalked it up to the drugs that he couldn’t keep much food down.”

  I shook my head. “I wish it was that easy. He hasn’t eaten anything since we left Dallas.” I couldn’t keep a low, sarcastic laugh from escaping. “I’ll spare you the details of the crispy chicken incident, although, if you ask me, it couldn’t have been actually crispy since UV light burns skin, but it doesn’t braise and baste it.” I got a weird—and concerned—look for that comment but Martinez didn’t ask me to elaborate. “Honestly, I’m taking the switch in food sources in stride. I’d be lying if some part of me wasn’t deeply concerned, but it helps being a scientist. I worry more about prions and mad cow disease than the emotional impact—for me. I can ignore all that shit, although it must be weighing on his mind. But how do I keep him fed, huh? I can’t very well make the rounds and ask if someone feels like they can do without the fleshy part of their left ass cheek. I hate to say this, but while it was up and running, the arena was working relatively well for that. And there were plenty of fresh kills in the lab underneath Dallas. But what do we do now?”

  I could see Martinez’s underlying horror slowly morph to real concern as he followed my explanation, choosing to act in sync with me and to concentrate on the practical rather than the moral side of things. “I presume you’ve already given him the talk about the human body having however many thousands of calories as a food source?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you think I am? An amateur? That’s where I started. But that’s exactly the problem. Considering our lifestyle, he needs somewhere between three and five thousand calories a day for maintenance, and he doesn’t exactly have full stores right now.”

  Martinez nodded absently. “My guess is he’s around five percent body fat right now, considering how cut his abs look.”

  Despite the grim topic, that made he laugh. “Chico, have you been checking out my husband?”

  I got a truly exasperated look for that, well-deserved as it was. “It’s my job to keep tabs on everyone’s general status of health. You’re way too skinny yourself for a woman who intends to have a child. When I checked on you back home, you were down to maybe ten percent, and you haven’t e
xactly bulked up since then. And, for the record, Miller is not my type.”

  I couldn’t help it; I just had to keep teasing him. “What, too tall? Too straight? No, wait—too bossy?”

  I got the smirk I deserved. “We can’t all go for the psychopathic killers, you know?”

  I fended that off with a grin, followed by a “whew” gesture. “You’d better not change your mind,” I warned him. “Else I know a way to have his meal plan covered for the next…” I gave his body an appraising look. “Two weeks? Maybe three if we don’t move much. You’re lucky Charlie clearly has a preference for short and sweet with a pert ass.” Coming from anyone else, that might have been a hit below the belt, but Martinez and I had often enough suffered together when Burns had made fun of being able to do pushups with either of us sitting on his back—but that didn’t mean Martinez didn’t still have a healthy amount of mass on me.

  “You’re so damn funny,” he grumbled. “Anyone tell you that of late?”

  “I know. My jokes are killer!” I crooned, but felt my levity drain from me all too quickly. “Seriously, how do I keep him fed? I think my best bet is fresh game, the meat still warm and bloody. It’s never been an issue while we were hiding in the middle of nowhere, but he was able to choke down rehydrated rice and pasta back then, although I’m sure he didn’t like the taste much. If we stop a little early or set out slings far enough from the camp, we might be able to hunt or catch enough to keep him from losing too much mass. As you so succinctly put it, he doesn’t have much subcutaneous fat left. Next up, it’s all muscle on the menu, and I don’t want to wade into the last battle with him too weak to be of much use next to me.”

  Martinez considered that for a while, ignoring my running commentary. “Fish’s probably the most reliable protein source, and usually comes with great fat content, too,” he offered. “If we get lucky and manage to shoot or trap animals, that might work as well, but it begs the question, do we have the time? Right now our downtimes are dictated by what the cars can take, and I don’t see Miller making exceptions for himself.”