Green Fields (Book 7): Affliction

by Lecter, Adrienne

  “Half an hour without obstacles,” I estimated, looking at the map.

  “Think they’ll make us sleep outside again?” Burns mused. “I could do with a bath.”

  “There’s the lake right there,” I pointed out.

  “A bath with water that’s not so full of salt that I’m well-preserved afterward.” He guffawed. “Although, who knows? Give it a few years and salt will be hard to come by away from the coasts. We should pick up some on our next raid.”

  “Which reminds me,” I started. “What was that about with you wanting to stay in New Angeles and work as a cook? The only thing I’ve ever seen you add to a cook pot was a spoon to steal some before the rest was rationed off.”

  Burns appeared unperturbed by my accusation. “Because my mad skills would be lost on you lot, that’s why I never bothered. And cooking’s a lot more fun than guard duty. You should try it one day.”

  “Fat chance of that happening,” I scoffed. Nate snorted, earning himself a glare from me. “Should have chosen another wife if you expected her to cook for you.”

  “I’m not complaining,” he protested, but it was a feeble one. The smile he countered my glower with was blinding. “Besides, anything that’s more edible than an MRE is fine with me.”

  “Why do I feel like that’s a thinly veiled insult?”

  Nate shrugged but wisely kept his trap shut. Burns kept chuckling to himself. I sighed in exasperation, quickly turning back to the window to hide my own mirth. “Yeah, a bath and some fresh chow would be nice. Let’s see how conceited those assholes are. Not every settlement can be as uptight as the good folks of Pixley.”

  As it turned out, they weren’t. Harris called ahead to the settlement we were aiming for, and while they made a great show of only letting us through their kill chute boxed-up gates one car after the other, there wasn’t a firing squad waiting at the other side, forcing us to strip down to our unmentionables. At least not us, as in the three inhabitants of the Jeep. One look at our necks, and the guy in charge gestured us to go on, grinning brightly at one of our townies, who didn’t look very happy about having to verify that he had no open and oozing wounds anywhere on his body. “Can’t be too careful,” the guard jeered, his own neck holding a thick x-shaped mark at the very back. Harris and his guys he signaled through as well.

  I was starting to like the Bridgeport settlement already.

  “Okay, the rules,” the guard started once we were all gathered between our cars beyond the checkpoint. “We’ve had quite the influx of travelers over the past couple of weeks. That means lots of lazy asses getting bored, ready to find some excitement. Don’t provide any, and we should be good.” His eyes lingered on me for a moment, but Nate’s blank stare seemed to discourage him from adding anything further. “Facilities are over there to the west, by the old gas station. If you don’t mind rooming together, you can have that yellow-painted bunkhouse right here. We have a central cafeteria where you can get your breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and three bars that cater to all your other needs. Food in normal quantities is free. Everything else you’ll have to barter for. Any questions? No? Good.”

  Gita looked confused at the last statement, making me lean toward her and whisper, “Whores, if I’d had to take a guess.” That made her mouth snap shut. I couldn’t help but laugh. Nate’s irritated sigh only added to that.

  Harris turned to all of us, clapping twice. “You heard the good man. Get cleaned up if you want, take a look around. I’ll talk to the mayor to see if we have anything in our cargo holds they’d want. Maybe that will get us some upgrades.”

  “Including whores,” I hazarded a guess to Gita. She giggled, but probably at the face Nate was making—at my antics, not hers, of course.

  “I’ll come along,” Nate volunteered, stepping away but not before shooting a low, “Try not to get in too much trouble without me,” in my direction.

  Snorting, I called a much louder, “When have I ever?” after him, deliberately leaving my response as vague as they go. Burns clapped my shoulder, chortling, as he went to follow Nate. That left me with Gita, Tanner, and the bunch of people from New Angeles, the townies already dispersing along the two roads that led deeper into the settlement.

  “Ballard, Tabs, you keep watch until I come to relieve you,” Tanner ordered. “The rest, curfew is ten. If you want to stay out longer, check back with me. Whoever volunteers for the two watch shifts during the night is off the roster for tomorrow.”

  I half expected Gita to want to tag along with me, but before I could think of something to dissuade her of that notion, she was already catching up to a small group of younger people from our caravan, leaving me standing there next to the two designated guards. I hesitated, then followed Tanner as he made off toward where warm water might be obtained.

  “Any news from your folks at home?” I asked, not even trying to play coy and appear like I wasn’t fishing for information.

  Tanner shrugged. “They called ahead to the settlement, told them not to be assholes to us, in exchange for the box of cigarettes we have in our car. Not sure that’s a good trade, but I’m not complaining.” His smirk let me know that, yes, indeed, he’d caught on to me, and no, he wasn’t going to volunteer any actually useful intel. “Why, anything coming in from the coast?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just business as usual.”

  “Not that surprising this late in the season,” he pointed out. “It’s been weeks since the crowd from our little trek up north dispersed and came down on the settlements, at least those that wanted to have them. Heard there were some issues, but less than was to be expected. Most went east, trying to beat the winter to find a spot that’s good for both looting and hunkering down. Most towns have pretty much locked their gates for the winter, like Pixley. They are at maximum capacity, they have their stores filled, no need to invite in extra trouble.”

  “Bridgeport doesn’t seem very locked down to me,” I noted, my gaze skimming over several other trains of cars that were parked by the palisades and along the streets, mostly abandoned, but clearly ready to head out soon.

  “That’s because they rely on traders to pass through year-round,” Tanner offered. “You’ve seen what we’ve been driving through to get here? Lots of open, empty land that’s pretty much uninhabitable most of the year because it’s too dry and hot. See the wells over there? Freshly dug, to keep the town supplied with water come what may. I’m sure they’ve already looted everything they could around, but I doubt that will last them through two months, let alone the winter. So they have to keep traffic passing through and give the scavengers a good reason why they should load up further north or east and chance the long drive through the desert. If they’re smart, they’ll try to stock up over the winter until it gets too hot, and they have to rely on us again.”

  “Again?” I echoed, suddenly interested.

  “New Angeles has been keeping a lot of the settlements in California, Nevada, Arizona, and Mexico alive. There’s way more to find in the city than we can use up in our lifetime, but we had a hard time with fresh produce at first. There were a few farmers in the settlements who knew how to build irrigation systems and get produce to grow even out here, so we struck a deal with most of the towns. To hide just how well we were doing, we set up a few trading posts that we regularly supply but pretend are run by traders. The system worked well until you had to throw us into a civil war, but it’s recovering.”

  “Gee, that wasn’t my doing alone,” I harped. “And why have I never heard of those trading posts?”

  Tanner shrugged. “Exactly how many trade runs have you gone on? Zero? All you’ve done so far is start building your own little camp on the coast, and get us some things we can use to goose the black market. Not that anyone needs you for the supply trains. Any trader can do that. Get the goods from the malls that people are starting to run out of? Now that’s a different business.”

  “But if you have so much surplus from the ruins, why risk it?”<
br />
  “Our reach only goes so far,” Tanner offered. “And we’re not going to hand out goods for free.”

  “But you expect us to?” I had a hard time gauging where this conversation was going.

  Tanner’s laugh was a brief one, lacking humor. “I think the powers that be would be more than happy to keep you on retainer should you be needed, provided you keep your interests aligned with ours. You know, like the dog you keep on a leash in the garden, outside the house?”

  I could so picture Greene’s smirk at that mental image. He’d even used almost those exact words before. I hadn’t really put too much thought into why New Angeles had been quick to help us set up a spot where to start building, and supplied us with food, people, and equipment without us having to do more than ask. Heck, they’d even established the ferry business with the fishing boats. To say I felt rather naive in hindsight was an understatement. Then again, I hadn’t expected their help to be for free—but there’d never been any talks about the price.

  The arrangement that the settlements had with New Angeles explained something else I’d been wondering about. “That’s why they all have such asinine contract lists out? We looked over a few in the last couple of weeks, but only two seemed worth the hassle of going out and risking our lives. I figured it was because any smart settlement should have had full stores by now, but I guess I was wrong?”

  “Close,” Tanner admitted. “They don’t like depending entirely on us, and I expect that come spring, things will change again, provided that the scavengers haven’t slit everyone’s throats during the winter.”

  I couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “That’s a valid concern?”

  “Valid? No. But concern, yes. See why we try to keep some contracts open for the likes of you? They trust us, and they will trust you, provided you keep bringing them what they need without being bastards about it.”

  “Is that directed at me?”

  He gave another, this time ambivalent, shrug. “Just saying, a smile here and there might not hurt. I get it, you had a lot to prove, and a lot of grudges to hold. But if you were serious about caring about the people and what happens to them, maybe include those inside the walls as well, not just those hopping in and out of the settlements? Just a thought.”

  He ended with that, speeding up as he headed toward where Nate and Harris had disappeared to, leaving me literally standing in the street, gaping after him. My first impulse was to bristle, but I stomped down on it before I could start scowling, putting even more ammo behind Tanner’s accusation. I likely did a shit job at it, as two men who came walking down the street veered to the side, giving me a wide berth. I watched them slink away, an exhale of frustration impossible to hold in. Taking a look around, I realized that they weren’t the only ones avoiding me. Maybe it was the simple fact of the three marks across my neck—easily visible with my hair braided up and the collar of my jacket turned down—but a sudden, raging bout of paranoia made me feel like they recognized me. Not just me for who I was, but the rabid attack dog leashed outside, conveniently at hand to threaten them should that be required. Then I noticed the group of guards, all in matching fatigues—soldiers, or if no longer aligned with that faction, judging from the marks on their necks, at the very least former ones. They ignored me, mostly, but I couldn’t help but feel like they kept glancing back at me whenever I looked away.

  Trying to shake off that nonsense, I turned toward that derelict gas station that the guard had pointed to, and the few small shacks behind it. Maybe Tanner had a point. There really was no reason to give the settlement people cause for alarm, or, worse yet, keep pushing them toward what might seem like the helpful, organized alternative to the rabble that was us scavengers.

  Maybe all I needed was a good, long soak, to forget about the worries that never seemed to stop heaping up at the back of my mind.

  Chapter 7

  It wasn’t easy to convince the two women who were overseeing the distribution of the hot water that I absolutely needed enough to fill half of the tub situated at the very back of one of the shacks, but I managed with a little coaxing. Outright bribing them with a three-month supply of birth control pills might have helped, as well. Judging from how quickly they’d shushed me—while letting the blister packs disappear in their pockets—made me guess that not everyone around here was on board with anyone trying to get in the way of repopulating the earth. At least I got my twenty minutes of soaking in the warm water, staring into the gloom of the rafters. Outside, night had fallen already, but I didn’t bother switching on the flashlight I’d brought with me. Instead, I just lay there, thinking… about nothing. It was only when the bark of a dog outside made me startle up that I realized that the water had long gone cold, my skin, without a doubt, covered in goose bumps.

  Only that it wasn’t, I realized, when I pulled my knees to my chest to get ready to get out of the water. Dry or wet, it was cool to the touch, but I was neither shivering nor feeling particularly cold. I quickly chalked that up to residual heat in the room, likely caused from next door where the water was heated in buckets over the open fire, but nagging doubt remained as I dried myself off and put on a fresh set of undergarments before buckling myself into my gear, leaving the stinking, dirty clothes in a corner to be burned. I rubbed my hands, trying to warm my fingers—that still didn’t feel cold exactly—before I took a deep breath and made my thoughts deliberately skip off the paranoia train. So, what, I’d dozed off for a few minutes and, lo and behold, inside the shack it was a lot warmer than outside. Who would have thought? No need for concern.

  Stepping outside, I felt validated in my internal pep talk when a gust of cool wind hit me, making me wrap my arms around myself. Not that I had to be concerned about dying from exposure—half the town seemed to be out and about, laughing, talking, or just going places, the streets peppered with people that, hint to my brain, gave off heat as well. Two of the New Angeles people were just stepping out of another one of the shacks, about to head into town to find that cantina, I ventured a guess, so I followed them. It was a good five hours since I’d last topped up on food, so I might as well grab some grub before Nate could harass me with it.

  As expected, the cantina was way too small to house all the people streaming inside to get dinner. I didn’t bother with the line that was forming over by the grill but instead got myself some mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and something that smelled vaguely like rabbit stew, all heaped into a chipped bowl. Belatedly I remembered I should have gotten at least my own fork, but spooning up the food with some fresh bread worked just as well. I still did my best not to get my saliva all over the bowl before I dropped it off by the door, to join an entire tub already filled to the brim. Whoever was up for dish washing duty wasn’t someone I envied.

  With no familiar faces around, I’d kept to myself, so nobody noticed when I slinked off, using a small side street to try to get back to the road running to our cars without bumping into anyone. I was just about to congratulate myself that I’d flawlessly navigated my way back when I rounded a corner and almost smacked against the wall of a building that shouldn’t have been there. Where I’d figured the road to be was the sturdy wooden fence of a sheep pen, with endless stacks of firewood walling off the other directions. Grumbling under my breath, I turned around to backtrack and take the long way around—but stopped in my tracks when I saw three figures hulking in the dark alley behind me. One guy was leaning against the wall of the house, pretty much blocking the mouth of the alley from the street, while the other two were slowly strolling toward me.

  My first impulse was to whip around and vault over the fence. A few scared sheep couldn’t be that much of an issue—or at least not enough to get us thrown out of the settlement. But with a full belly and my mind still a little drowsy from sleeping in the bathtub, I didn’t really want to kick my body into overdrive. And maybe I was just being weird and the three of them had gotten lost, just like me. Stranger things had happened.

  Yeah,
right.

  Steeling my spine while I did my best to appear otherwise relaxed—giving my muscles time to limber up—I faced the men head-on. The last one lurking further down the alley I couldn’t see clearly, but the other two were younger than I expected, mid-twenties at the most. Their gear and weapons were in decent shape—nowhere near new or top-of-the-line quality, but well-used and maintained. Their body language screamed ease and confidence, something I was sure mine didn’t. They were both taller and heavier than me, but no surprise there. I had to hand it to them—they didn’t outright leer at me, but the way they looked me over, made it plain that they weren’t just about to ask for the way back to the cantina.

  “Well, hello there, pretty lady,” the left one uttered, shaking dirty blond hair out of his face that either needed a comb, or better yet, a razor.

  His buddy, skin and hair a few shades darker, offered up a grin, revealing stunningly bright teeth. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I kept my arms at my sides, forcing myself not to cross them over my chest. That also left my fingers close to my knife and gun, strapped to my thighs as they were. I didn’t want to draw either, but I wasn’t going to hesitate if I had to.

  “Can we maybe not do this tonight, fellas?” I proposed. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, I’m not selling.”

  They exchanged glances, the brown-haired one snickering. “That’s actually why we’re here.”

  That confused me—for all of three seconds. Stupid me, thinking they’d recognized me and were out to get some retaliation for a friend or two who hadn’t made it back from Colorado—or ended up on the wrong side of the tracks. I almost laughed at the realization that they’d come after me simply because I was a woman, but there was only so much humor to glean from that.

  “Sorry, boys, can’t help you there,” I insisted. “Stop wasting your time. Over by the cantina I’m sure there are plenty of warm, willing girls happy to lavish all the attention you need and deserve on you. I’m not one of them.”