“That’s a lie.” I didn’t know what made me say that, but I couldn’t help but snort when Nate looked almost offended. “Admit it. You got off on being the best, even if that meant excelling at being a monster. You’ve never not been honest about that.”
“True,” he admitted, faintly amused now. “I’m not denying it. It just lost all meaning for me that day. That’s why I quit the race, and from what I remember, Decker accepted that. He said he’d miscalculated. And while I’m sure he’d meant it to rekindle the fire, he let me walk out on him—twice.” A brief pause followed. “But what if I’m wrong about that? What if he only pretended to let me quit?”
“I don’t get it. He lost you, and for all intents and purposes, you’ve been a nuisance, constantly crossing his plans, ever since.”
Nate shrugged. “Or he just gave up on me for a while, to let me simmer, so to speak. And then he slowly upped the ante, like with the frog slowly getting cooked in a pot. This invitation? That’s his way of letting the jaws of the trap snap shut once and for all, forcing me to become what he’d always wanted me to.”
As much as he seemed to believe that theory, it didn’t gel for me. “First off, that thing with the frog? Not actually true. Frogs are not that stupid. And second, don’t you think you’re being a little too dramatic?”
I got a soft laugh for that. “True with the amphibians. And yes, it’s entirely possible I’m just coming up with the weirdest connections, but hear me out. What if the stunt with Hamilton’s sister wasn’t meant to put me—or us—in my place, but as a last, final stepping stone to becoming a cold-hearted killer, with no remorse or regrets?”
“How should raping a teenage girl accomplish that? Sounds like BS to me.”
“I don’t think I was meant to rape her. I think I was meant to kill her.” He said that softly enough that it gave me the creeps. When I just stared at him, he made a “just think about it” face. “She was innocent—in every sense of the word. She was the one person in this world who her brother absolutely, unconditionally loved. If I had killed her, there would have been no going back. I could never have flagged or tried to tell myself that I’m still a good person, deep down inside. I’d always have the memory burnt into my brain that I’m capable of anything. And me doing so would have broken Bucky to the point where he’d have known forever that he’d never be a leader, only good enough as a henchman—beta to my alpha. Because I fucking killed his sister and he was powerless to stop it from happening. But I didn’t, and I folded, content with stepping down although I’d been just a single step away from the finish line. And yet—the game isn’t over. Only the stakes changed. Because, now I have you—the single most important person for me on the planet. The woman I love more than life itself—and don’t roll your eyes at me for spouting off mushy shit, I mean this literally: if he gave me the choice, I would gladly trade my life for yours. The thing is, I don’t think he will let it come to this. Actually, it makes a lot of sense if you look at everything that’s happened to us over the past four years. He’s still hell-bent on turning me into his perfect killing machine, and he’s going to do it by making me kill you.”
That… sounded like a lot of nonsense, or so I wanted to scream at him—but I remained silent, thinking.
“Why would you? Kill me, I mean. I know I can get damn annoying at times, but I’ve always thought that you’d be bored without me, and that’s why you put up with my charming self,” I tried to joke.
Nate snorted, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Just think about it. Why did he send Hamilton to the factory to kidnap you? Even then, I knew how tough you are, and that he could absolutely have tried to turn you into the perfect instrument against me, but Decker didn’t know that. What he did know was that there was a new opportunity to turn me inside out, by forcing me to kill you. Then again, the shit with Taggard. Hamilton tried to warn me in Colorado, I think, and when that didn’t work, he made me almost strangle you before Raynor cut you up and put you back together. How much more literal could he have gotten? None of that worked, so Decker must have reasoned that I’m still clinging to too much of my humanity. In steps Cortez and his arena, and I must say, he did a damn good job dehumanizing me. You could say I’m primed and about ready for that last, final step, or as ready as I’ll ever be. Before you protest, just think it all through again. It does make sense.”
Except for one thing. “It would kill you. Killing me, I mean. Not in a literal sense, but you’d turn brittle rather than hard. You’d be fucking useless to him in that state.”
Nate considered my argument briefly. “I don’t think he sees it this way. It would break me, yes, but he must be reasoning that he’d be able to put me back together, reforge me like a broken blade. Nothing he’s ever tried has managed to crack the armor around my soul, if you want to call it that, but me killing you would do the trick just fine. And, really, what does he stand to lose? At best, I’m dead and no longer a disappointing reminder of his failure. But he stands to win what he always wanted: me as his perfect soldier.”
“Yeah, except that in a few weeks’ time, you’ll turn and someone will have to put you down. Not really worth all the trouble,” I pointed out.
Nate’s smirk was bordering on evil. “Unless, of course, he has the antidote.”
That made no sense. “What do you mean? We know it doesn’t exist.”
“Do we?” Nate made that not just a question but also a suggestion. “We went to France for a reason, and you got very busy with poring over the notes and scribbling suggestions for Raynor to implement. We think there is no antidote because you are convinced none exists. But maybe she didn’t find one in the meantime and didn’t lie to you—maybe my brother already had discovered it. That’s a good reason to have had him killed, right? Before he could tell me or anyone else that he’d had his breakthrough—the magic bullet to end all negative side effects of the serum. I never quite understood why they’d let him research that, even if having him on the development team for later iterations must have been a boon for them. That antidote—that possible cure—was way too dangerous to exist. So they used him as long as he was useful—and then decided to bury that part of the research with him, and sent me to clean up what remained of the mess. If it meant I came out of it feeling vindicated but with my hands even more bloody and my soul more soiled, all the better. They even sent Hamilton to collect me, to make sure that I wouldn’t just slip away one last time. I admit, if things had turned out just a little different—if I’d never met you, and if Zilinsky and Romanoff hadn’t used the months before we executed the mission to make me see that I couldn’t let anger and grief destroy my life—I would likely have come out of this like a piece of clay, ready to be molded further.”
I had a lot to say to that, but that little nugget toward the end was too good not to jump at it. “Why, what did Pia and Andrej do to get you back from the brink?”
Nate gave a non-committal sound. “In detail? No one single action they took really did the trick. And maybe it was just incidental. Maybe they simply showed me that I had a lot more to live for than I thought—which had boiled down to pretty much only vengeance after my brother’s death. If you want me to wax poetic, I’d say that just as Romanoff managed to not just keep Zilinsky alive but teach her how to keep on living, they both paid me back the same way after I got them out of a hairy situation—and gave them a much better chance to keep surviving what they both excelled at doing.” He paused for a moment. “I miss him like crazy. Never thought I would. Over two and a half years of not seeing him, or hearing even a peep from him—no problem. We picked up right where we left off as if less than a day had passed in the meantime. But I’ll never have to deal with his absolutely horrible jokes, and now more than ever I could use someone who just laughs at me when I get all moody and lost in thought.”
We shared a few moments of silence before I made myself speak up. “I get why Decker would want to force you to kill me. But why the fuck would you do it? Yo
u just said it yourself—you’d die to save me. There’s no sense in killing me in your view of the universe.” And just as I said that, I realized where I was wrong—and the reason why he had his proverbial panties in a twist. “Ah, I think I see it now. You kill me, and Decker thinks he has you right where he wants you. So you can get close to him, and kill him. And that’s why we are having this conversation.”
I both hated and loved how Nate was looking at me—glad he didn’t have to spell it out, a little proud of my powers of deduction, and utterly unhappy of the consequences.
“Pretty much, yeah,” he drawled.
I gave that some thought, which was a very surreal thing indeed. I had few problems anymore with risking my life, including using my life as a bargaining chip. But this was pushing it, even for me. The strange calm I felt spreading through my mind felt less like acceptance, and more like the calm before the storm made out of pure, unadulterated hysteria.
“What does he need Hamilton for in this scenario?” I wanted to know. “No offense, but you can more than kill me by your lonesome self. You don’t need backup.”
“But I might need an incentive,” Nate pointed out. “Or an inciting incident, if you will. Plus, if all else fails, Decker still has Hamilton if he ends up losing me. But I think his idea is, he’ll offer Bucky and me the choice that whoever gets to kill you first gets to live. Hamilton will go for it; I will kill him; you’ll likely end up wounded seriously enough that it would be closer to a mercy killing; mission accomplished.”
I hated how his theory was starting to make sense. “You mean exactly like with Hamilton’s sister? Decker didn’t just order you to outright kill her. He set it up as a segue back then, too. Her life was supposed to be ruined and over, anyway, so why make her last moments any more painful than necessary.” Nate inclined his head. “Only one problem.”
He was more than happy to finish the sentence for me. “You’d want to fight to your very last breath,” he stated—no question about that. “You didn’t commit suicide when you knew you were dying from getting savaged by zombies and infected with the virus, and even then you couldn’t pull the trigger of that gun. You didn’t even try. That’s why I keep telling you, I will hold out until after you’ve turned to kill you then, and make sure you can never be an undead menace. Because you’d absolutely kill me, but you wouldn’t kill yourself, thus only solving one problem yet creating another.”
True—just as what I said next was also true. “Tough luck. Looks like you’re going to have to kill me after all.”
And, damn. Saying that out loud didn’t sound any better than knowing it deep inside my heart. But at least I’d managed to keep my trap shut about my epiphany from earlier. If I really had to die, at least I’d be the only one bearing that loss this time.
Chapter 20
I didn’t get any sleep that night, and neither did Nate. Whenever one of us moved, the other used the evidence of our mutual wakefulness as an excuse to start pawing at each other once more. I couldn’t in good conscience call it lovemaking—there was too much desperation between us, too many words that still needed to be said but never would. Turns out, since I was already too chickenshit to say goodbye to acquaintances and distant friends, doing the same to Nate was impossible. On the plus side, while we were twisting around each other, I had a very good excuse not to talk and offer up inspirational remarks like that he only needed to survive me by long enough to take down Decker, so if everything went perfect, he could commit suicide before my body had fully cooled. I had a certain feeling he was aware along what lines my thoughts were running, and getting me off one more time might just have been his attempt to spare himself having to listen to that. If that was the case, my fate could have been worse.
As soon as first light broke, we were both out of the car, checking in with the last guard shift—who weren’t the only ones awake—before hopping into the lake for a last, long dunk, and then it was time to get ready. Or at least to break camp, chug down coffee, chew listlessly on tasteless breakfast, and drive the one hundred and fifty miles until it was time for the three of us to split from the others.
That was one depressing morning, followed by a tediously annoying day that managed to both drag on forever, and be close to over way too soon.
As much as last night we’d all been doing a great job pretending to forget what waited for us today, whatever had made that work had long worn off. There was a constant air of strain and tension lingering, both around the others but also between Nate and me. Beyond telling me where to drive, we remained silent for the most part, and the few times we halted to keep exhaustion to a minimum, the same was true all through our group. I could tell that some had serious trouble keeping their plans from us, chiefly among them Martinez—not much of a surprise—but also Sonia. I was glad that no one but me and Nate had been privy to our conversation last night, but I had a feeling Hamilton knew the gist of it.
With only thirty more miles to go, we stopped for a last break together—and then it was time to split.
I’d hoped to be able to just remain sitting, staring stoically forward, behind the Rover’s wheel, but that was, of course, not in my cards. Did I want to bitch about Nate getting that damn nuke-that-wasn’t-a-nuke in its case from the other car? Yes, but my enthusiasm about that had drastically reduced itself. There was a quick debate about whether we should strip down the gear we carried inside the Rover, but it made little sense since the others had by far enough ammo and guns. I doubted we’d be able to carry any of that with us, but, who knew? Maybe I’d make a repeat performance of my escape from the factory and end up dragging myself to my car to try to bring down our entire arsenal on whoever came after me? Slim chance, but stranger things had happened.
Few words were exchanged—like Martinez whispering to me, “This is not goodbye!” as we hugged one last time—but I was surprised how calm and composed I felt. I honestly hadn’t expected to have any kind of fatalistic composure left by afternoon, but here I was, feeling an awful emptiness inside but little of the emotional anguish I’d been dreading. There was always time for that later, I was sure.
I didn’t know what was worse—having Hamilton or that case in my Rover, both securely stashed away in the back row. As I started driving, I saw the others remain behind, their need for secrecy going as far as not even letting us see in which direction they would set out. Two more bends, and they were gone, leaving only the three of us in one lonely Rover as the center of my world. At least driving distracted me somewhat, but that only went so far.
“So,” I started, having to pause to clear my throat to stop sounding like a frightened child to my own ears. “How is that business with the nukes going to happen? I presume it’s not as easy as simply carrying them in our pockets.”
Nate allowed himself a small smile—likely having been waiting for days for that question—but it had to be Hamilton who had to answer. “Security’s likely about what you’re used to from most settlements. How often have they asked you to bend over and spread ‘em?”
“Thought so,” I muttered under my breath, not giving him a chance to think I was scandalized. “What do we do if they use metal detectors?”
Hamilton’s grin from before spread. “Then we’re, quite literally, fucked.”
“Or maybe not,” Nate offered. “The metal in your femur will throw any detector off, and I think they’ll believe you when you say you’re not carrying any other weapons than what you are yourself.”
I couldn’t help but chortle. “That would be stupid.” When I caught Hamilton’s smirk in the rearview mirror, it turned into a full laugh. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one with razor blades hidden in my bra and boot soles. Well, I am likely the only one of us wearing a bra, but, you know…”
I didn’t get an answer, which pretty much confirmed my guess that I wasn’t alone. Problem was, a single razor blade wasn’t exactly useful, particularly if I couldn’t easily get to it. A gun or knife I could easily draw. Something shove
d up my colon? Not quite that easy.
“How do the detonators work? I presume a dead man’s switch isn’t exactly what we’re going for with this here,” I rambled on.
“Implants,” Hamilton provided, rather unhelpfully.
Nate glanced at him briefly before explaining. “Small subcutaneous chips that are triggered by a series of taps. And, yes, they have a built-in dead man’s switch as well, but one that only activates after twenty minutes have passed.”
“Let me guess—they didn’t come with that?”
Nate shook his head. “We had someone modify them for us. Let’s hope they still work.”
I hated how much about this plan was hinging on things we knew shit about, and could, at best, only guess at. But that was all we had, and we would have to make do with the cards we’d been dealt.
Twenty miles from our destination, Nate told me to make a quick detour in the thick of another forest. He got out as soon as I cut the engine, rounding the front of the Rover to get to the passenger side back seat where the damn case with the nukes was still strapped in behind me. I slid out of the harness and seat much slower, not for the first time asking myself just how insane we were to consider a plan like this. By the time I joined him, Nate had the outer case open, revealing a small box—presumably made of lead—next to a surprising amount of other things, including what must be the injector for the trigger chips. He and Hamilton set to fiddling with that stuff, doing whatever they needed to do to test or arm them, I had no clue. I remained standing there, watching them mutely, trying to decide what to do.
It should have been easy. I stood the best chance of smuggling anything inside, for a million reasons. I didn’t doubt Nate’s assessment of Decker’s plans—and if there was a different solution, Nate would go for it. But I was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice, so this should have been a very easy decision. A very rational decision. But with fear paralyzing my limbs and thoughts alike, it was one of the hardest choices I’d ever been forced to make—and it wasn’t even because of things not discussed or even mentioned. Or not just because of that, although it kept bouncing around in my head like a ball in a very small cage. It certainly made me feel like I should not be granted a second chance like it since I was clearly not the responsible type. Better let me shove two of those nukes up my orifices.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 103
