Resurgence: Green Fields book 5

by Adrienne Lecter

  “It’s okay,” I told her, taking her hand in mine and squeezing lightly. “It’s okay. I know. And I didn’t tell you because it hurts, so fucking much.” Exhaling slowly, I waited for her to reprimand me, but apparently, losing a child excused you from using clean language. “It’s still hard to talk about it, you know?” She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. Just great. The last thing I needed was for her to start crying now. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything, okay? But now you know.”

  She kept nodding, and after a few seconds she got a grip on herself again.

  We remained sitting there in silence, staring out into the dark night for what felt like ages. Sam drew my attention back to her when she cleared her throat.

  “Can I ask… about it? You don’t need to. I understand if you don’t want to talk. It’s just…” She gave me a hopeful look that I shouldn’t have been able to see.

  “Sure,” I lied. Talking was the last thing on my mind—but considering that my thoughts tried to snap back to that cell and what had happened around me there, talking about what had until then been my least favorite experience in life was somewhat of a relief.

  “Is it connected to… how you got that scar on her hip?” she asked, her voice soft. I nodded. No sense in lying about that. “It wasn’t an animal attack like you said, right?”

  I hesitated before I shook my head. “Technically speaking, humans are animals, too,” I offered, trying to keep it as vague as possible. I hated myself for letting her jump to conclusions, but there were things I could tell her—but explaining to her that I was, more or less, half zombie myself wasn’t among them.

  “Oh God,” she whispered again, swallowing so heavily that I heard it. “That’s why you’re so jumpy. You used to be so calm, so centered. And now you tense at every noise, every time someone’s getting too close to you…”

  My mouth was already open, ready to tell her that she was seeing things, but I swallowed that comment. In a sense, she was probably right—only that what she interpreted as trauma-induced jitters were simply my instincts, honed after months of relying on them. And it wasn’t like recent events had given me any reason to relax anywhere as long as I didn’t have Nate and the guys around me, and my shotgun in my hands.

  “It’s not like that here,” she went on, giving me an imploring look when I glanced her way. “With the guards, I mean. They do not force us. Any of us. And they behave civil. Sure, I’m not the biggest fan of it all, you know why. But it’s not like that.”

  I wondered how much of that was her trying to assuage what she thought were my fears—and how much of it were her own.

  “It’s your life,” I told her in return, not knowing what else to say. “I just can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

  She smiled, even though it was a wan smile. “Same. Although I get the sense that I failed you a lot more than you did me.”

  I shook my head before she could continue with that nonsense. “Remember when I told you earlier that there’s a lot that you don’t know? Most of that isn’t bad. Just… complicated. But except for some stupid decisions that ended with some rather catastrophic fallout I’d do it all over again. I don’t exactly regret being where I am right now in life.”

  Either she understood that I really meant it, or that statement was cryptic enough that she didn’t know what to reply.

  “Still. You could stay here,” she tried again.

  I shook my head. “Actually, I can’t. Don’t ask me. I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for, and I guarantee you, you don’t want the one I could offer up.”

  I was surprised when she didn’t insist on proving me wrong, but instead inclined her head in acquiescence.

  So much had changed. But at least she was still alive.

  Now I just had to do everything in my power to keep her that way.

  Chapter 31

  I couldn’t sleep that night, which wasn’t much of a surprise. My body had caught up on the rest it needed for now during the day, and with the news Sam had shared with me up on that roof, it was impossible to quiet my mind. I waited about half an hour until the last light had been dimmed in the dormitory with the cots before I got up on silent feet and left. It was dark outside, the moon barely a sliver up in the sky, but still light enough for me to see.

  I considered what to do now as I watched the guards on the palisades make their rounds.

  The smart thing to do would be to grab all the food I could find, and bail. I’d seen a few coils of rope by one of the buildings—that would be enough to make it over the palisade into the blissful freedom of the wild. I could just hide there, out of sight of the guards but close enough that I could see the guys coming. There was just one flaw to this plan—well, two, really, but they were connected: the guards would likely gun me down as soon as they saw something moving out there, and there was still the matter of the zombies. The three that had been hot on my heels as I’d run for the settlement might be gone, but I knew there were more out there. I could feel them—not in a visceral way like the ones at the motel where I’d almost died, but there was no debating that it wasn’t just my imagination. Same as it wasn’t just bad memories and nightmares that had my teeth on edge staying in the settlement. Something was going on, and it wasn’t pitched in my favor.

  It was probably the easier solution to remain inside the walls of Halsey, lay low, and pray for the best. My people were coming for me—two to three days, Rita had said. I could manage two to three days of my skin crawling and my teeth set on edge the entire time. Hell, I’d managed a week of worse down in that underground complex. And as much as I yearned to be back out there, back with Nate and my people, there was Sam. As much as I wanted to slap some sense into her because of the bullshit tales that she’d told me, I was loath to leave her again so soon. She’d been my closest friend and confidante for a decade—even if our relationship had taken a nosedive, part of me still loved her. If I couldn’t make her see reason—and considering that I couldn’t tell her everything, why should she change her mind?—I could still go out there and make sure that nobody and nothing would hurt her. Maybe I would die trying to accomplish that. Once she realized who and what I really was, any feelings she still had for me would evaporate, that much I knew. So why not allow myself to have those two to three days with her and make the best of it? Last year I would have killed for having a single hour with her—why give up that chance just because I was afraid what might happen to me?

  And there was, of course, the possibility that this was just the quiet before the storm, and somehow Taggard had managed to use me as bait for the trap that would break our collective necks once the jaws snapped closed. I doubted that the lives of ten recalcitrant scavengers could be worth the price in blood that his men had to pay, but I would have said exactly the same about the setup at the factory. No longer did I feel stupid for letting my paranoia set the limits of what I thought anyone was capable of—it was reasonable to do so. I couldn’t let that happen. Already, there was too much blood on my hands. I would not be responsible for anyone else to have to lay down their lives for me.

  It was that realization that got my sneaking over to the building that housed the radio station. I’d watched Hamish turn that damn thing on. I was sure that I could get it working with some trial and error. The station at Dispatch was always manned, and even if I got that fool on the line again, this time I would make sure to get the right message across. I knew that it was impossible for me to dissuade Nate from coming for me, but maybe if I managed to warn him just what a hornet’s nest I’d maneuvered myself into, he’d ditch the others and come alone. A very slim chance, but better than doing nothing.

  The door stood ajar, a good sign as I’d seen the lock on it before, but I was still a few yards away from reaching it when a soft, male voice coming from right behind me made me freeze.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Hamish.

  Exhaling slowly, I made myself relax, although every fiber of my being was singin
g with tension, ready to unleash some of my freshly recharged energy. Turning around, I found him lounging against the wall of the adjacent building, just inside the shadows of an alcove that I hadn’t seen from the direction I’d come from.

  “I was just—“

  He shook his head, silently telling me to cut the crap.

  “I’ve been waiting for you all evening,” he told me, still speaking softly. “To keep you from doing something incredibly stupid.” He gave me a chance to deny his assessment, and when I didn’t, he inclined his head. “They are monitoring our frequencies. Just trying to get a message out will likely get you killed. Shy trader Anna wouldn’t be sneaking around at midnight, trying to warn her people.” Another pause, and I guessed his slight smile stemmed from how I was failing to keep a straight face.

  “You know who I am?” I asked, figuring that if I had to take him down any moment now, I might as well find out just how much he knew first.

  Hamish gave a noncommittal grunt. “Keeping your hair down was a good idea. They are stupid enough sometimes to go with obvious visual clues only. Makes it easy to sneak certain things right underneath their noses if you just hit the right notes.” He laughed softly to himself before he went on. “Ignoring the weight you’ve lost, you still look a lot like your picture.” He raised his hand placatingly, anticipating that I was about to make my move any moment now. “Only two of the guards have seen the wanted poster, and none of the villagers. As I said, they tend to run ignorant. That’s how they are selected. Thugs that follow orders and don’t know how to think for themselves. None of them would have made a good soldier before, and nothing has changed about that since.”

  That assessment rang true to me from what I’d seen of Taggard’s men so far—and sounded awfully close to something Nate would have sneered out.

  “You former military?” I guessed.

  I got a bright smile in turn. “US Marine Corps, ma’am. Retired for ten years now, but as they say—“

  “Once a soldier, always a soldier,” I finished for him.

  He nodded. “I trust that your people are smart enough not to waltz up to the gate as they are?”

  “I sure hope not,” I admitted, letting out the breath I’d been holding slowly. “Are you and me going to have some issues now?”

  “Are we?” he asked back, but shook his head in silent answer to my question. “Truth is, I’d rather see you gone now rather than later, but my quarrel isn’t with you or your people. But you have to understand that I have a responsibility to my people.”

  “You mean the guards?”

  His snort was derisive enough to almost make me smile. “They are not my people.”

  “Then why put up with them?” I had no intention to incite a riot here, but any distraction might be useful.

  Hamish continued to smile, but it took on a sad twinge. “If you cause any trouble, you have only yourself to blame. It’s in my interest to keep the peace. I can’t help you,” he clarified. “But I can keep you from doing something incredibly stupid.”

  So much for the glimmer of hope his words had ignited inside my chest.

  “But you won’t rat me out?”

  He shook his head. “I won’t rat you out. I can tell that you are an intelligent, capable woman. Use that smart brain of yours to lay low, don’t cause any trouble, and get on your way again once you have recovered. That’s as far as I can help you.”

  It sounded like damn bullshit to me, but that was disregarding what he didn’t tell me. If he knew about me—and could likely guess where I’d gotten the fading bruises all over my body—he also must know about their guards. As much as I wanted to brand him a coward, I could see where he must have reasoned for himself that he was doing what was best for his people—and that was to keep the peace.

  “Does your wife know?” I asked. “Does Mary know?”

  He confirmed my lucky guess with a low chuckle. “Of course she does,” he replied. “But her hands are as tied as mine.”

  It was too easy for me to jump to conclusions, I knew that. They could all be prisoners, trying to make the best of what little freedom they had left. They could all be co-conspirators, deserving swift, cruel punishment. That the truth likely lay smack in the middle of both extremes—and with so many connotations that I could never grasp even a tenth of them, and thus would never get the whole picture—was much more likely.

  Either way, I got his message loud and clear. As long as I kept my trap shut and didn’t stir up shit, he would do the same.

  That knowledge grated, but if I was honest, Sam was my only reason why I even considered being stubborn and still going my way, even though I knew that potential harm lay down that road. But even without a warning I could tell that this was the sure-fire method to put her in harm’s way—and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Thank you. For the warning,” I said, nodding toward the radio station. Hamish acknowledged my words with a nod of his own before he turned away, melting into the shadows of the building. I stared after him for a few more minutes before I retraced my steps back to the dormitory, where I spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, trying to come up with a plan how I could survive the next days—and be able to live with myself.

  Chapter 32

  Hamish kept his word. No one accosted me during the night, or over breakfast the next morning. Alert, rested, and fed, boredom soon became my number one enemy, or so it felt to my overactive imagination. The guards mostly ignored me. John and one of the others kept pestering the women, but as the day passed, I realized that they’d become most proficient at avoiding the guards. Usually one or two of them eventually happened to disappear with some of the men, but the majority of the women spent their days doing normal household chores without being bothered. At first that didn’t look very effective from me—clinically speaking—but on the evening of my third day in Halsey I realized that there must be more behind it, a pattern, and that made things quite obvious. Mary was tracking the fertile days of her herd, thus deciding who got to bite the bullet. It still seemed like a degrading exercise to me, yet not just Sam’s protest but also the general air of the group at large made me guess that I was the only one convinced of that. Maybe they’d brainwashed them all. Maybe there was something in the water. Whatever it was, by that third evening in Halsey I was ready to give up any urge to incite rebellion. Let them do their thing. They weren’t my responsibility. So what if they all ended up raped and slaughtered for the sake of one man’s cruel sadism?

  Then the fourth morning dawned, and still no one had accosted me. I kept watching everyone like a hawk—the guards, the men, the women—but except for not going out of their way to be nice to me because I was an outsider, they were all more or less pleasant enough. Sam wasn’t that much of a difference there, I realized with a sinking feeling in my heart. As it was so often the case, my memory of her, colored by grief and guilt, was different than the actual person. All curiosity about my life seemed to have been satisfied on day one, and either she didn’t know how to handle what I’d told her, or she was plain indifferent to it. As much as that hurt, it made what I knew I had to do a little easier—to leave her to her own devices.

  Or so I kept telling myself.

  I couldn’t help but get antsy as the day passed by and still there was no caravan approaching the settlement. Whenever no one gave me anything to do, I went up onto the roof of the dormitory to look out over the rolling grassland outside the palisade. I’d acquired a straw hat in the meantime that helped stem the tsunami of tears somewhat, but it was still a futile task. Just watching the guards should have been enough, really.

  A sudden commotion by the shed that housed the chickens that the eggs for breakfast came from drew my attention away from the horizon. Several women were gathered there, getting increasingly agitated. I hesitated but then decided to investigate. It wasn’t like I was doing anything but stand around uselessly most of the day—might as well do it where something interesting wa
s happening.

  As I rounded the back of the house, I saw that they were all huddled around a woman who was clutching two chickens to her chest. The chickens didn’t seem to enjoy that a lot, which resulted in a racket of avian protestation, only furthered as the woman kept imitating them between maniacal bouts of laughter. That someone didn’t have all their chickens in the coop was quite obvious—and I felt myself start to grin at that pun, it would have made Burns howl with laughter—until sudden recognition made me stop in my tracks. What were the odds…

  “Don’t mind her,” one of the women gathered around, trying to liberate the chickens, told me. “She’s been like that since she got here.”

  I ignored that advice, instead stepping closer, sneezing momentarily when the feathers flying around tickled my nose. That made the madwoman on the floor focus on me, cementing my guess when our gazes connected. Oh, she definitely didn’t look sane, but that, right there, was someone I knew.

  “Kat?” I murmured, then repeated her name a little louder. She cocked her head to the side, not quite confirming that it was her—or that she still recognized her name—but that was, without a doubt, one of my old co-workers from the lab. But what was she doing here? And how had she survived? Last time I’d talked to her she’d already started showing symptoms, just as she’d been about to go home—

  My train of thought was derailed when she suddenly let go of the chickens and surged to her feet, making me back up instantly as she took two steps toward me.

  “Why, isn’t that the ghost whisperer?” she crooned, her mad gaze fixated on my face. “Whispering to the ghost at the coffee machine!”

  I didn’t know what I had expected after how she’d behaved with the chickens, but that statement made my paranoia rise, and not just because she uttered it in a mad sing-song voice.

  Sam appeared by my side, her hand tentatively pulling on my upper arm. “Don’t listen to her,” she told me. “She’s, well. Quite obviously not herself. Just wait a moment until she starts—“