Green Fields (Book 6): Unity

by Adrienne Lecter

  I didn’t hear a thing when Nate made his move, but noticed when one soldier went behind a particularly thick oak and didn’t turn up again on the other side. Adrenaline spiked as trepidation gripped my stomach, and I waited a few more seconds—not because anyone was particularly close to my perch, but because I simply didn’t want to move. I didn’t need Nate frowning at me to picture his look of disapproval all too clearly, so I gave myself a mental shove and started easing down onto the lower branch.

  All soldiers had made it farther into the woods than I’d run, but I still gave myself another moment to make sure that no one was following them. Leaves crunched thunderously under my boots as my feet hit the ground, but neither of the three men closest to my position turned around. Exhaling slowly as I started forward, I pulled my knife from its thigh holster. They were doing a shit job guarding each other’s backs, just as if they thought nothing could sneak up on them.

  I halted about ten feet away from the closest, holding my breath as I watched him stop and scan the forest in front of him. I didn’t catch more than a glimpse of his face, but he was young. Younger than me, at least. Twenty, twenty-five max. He also didn’t look familiar. Most of Taggard’s “boys” had been around my age—old enough to know what they were in for. What gave me the right to take his life, just like that?

  But then another face, just as young but a lot less naive, came up before my mind’s eyes—Gussy’s. She hadn’t chosen her fate, unlike that fucktard. None of them seemed to have had any reservations doing what they’d done.

  It wasn’t a clean kill. I wasn’t tall enough to just step up behind him, reach across, and slice through his trachea. I had to grab him, get a good hold, and ram the knife into the side of his neck, hoping that in one stab I’d do enough damage to make this simple. Surprisingly, it was, yet as soon as I pulled the knife back out, blood gushed from where I’d destroyed his carotid. He gave a simple “uff” as he sagged in on himself, forcing me to scramble to catch him so I could let the dead body slide to the ground without any further incriminating sounds. His eyes were glazing over as he stared up at me, his very lifeblood continuing to spurt out of him. My entire hand and part of my arm were covered in it, the coppery scent sharp in the early morning air.

  Exhaling shakily, I forced myself to look away as I stepped over him, flicking my right arm once to get some of the blood off. The other two soldiers were still oblivious where they continued deeper into the woods. The second fell as quickly as the first, but the third turned out to be problematic. He was tall enough that I couldn’t down him with the same move again, so instead I put the knife away, jumped his back, and did my best to wrench his head to the side hard enough to break his neck.

  That, of course, didn’t work. Not like that. I scared him plenty, coming at him from behind, but he managed to resist, shaking me off with what was likely just a sprained neck. I let go and dropped to the ground, kicking his knee with as much force as possible. Something crunched under my boot and he went down with a choked-out cry, clutching his injured leg. Grabbing my knife, I tried to go for his neck, but he flung up his arm just in time to deflect me. I gripped the knife harder and used the hilt to sock him a good one, but didn’t see the soldier’s own punch coming. He hit me squarely in the stomach, forcing me to expel air in a rush. I used the momentum of my body folding in on itself to slice at the back of his good knee, hamstringing him. He screamed, making a flock of birds take flight. We both froze, staring at each other, listening for a human response. Someone called out, asking what was going on, but before the soldier could answer, I punched him again, then gripped his chin, lifted it up, and sliced as deep across his throat as I could. Blood sprayed everywhere—my hand, my torso, my face—but I did my best to ignore it. Jumping to my feet, I took off at a run, scaling the next larger tree to get out of sight.

  Maybe ten seconds later, a group of soldiers rushed in, finding the bodies on the ground. One of them tried to staunch the bleeding from the third guy’s throat, but he had already gone still. I remained pressed against the rough bark of the tree, not moving where I could just catch a glimpse at what was going on down there. Two of the soldiers just stared at their fallen comrade while another cast around frantically, his assault rifle’s muzzle zipping to and fro as he was trying to aim at everything at once.

  A shout rang out from farther north, making all of them turn in that direction. I took that as a cue to hide myself more securely, hoping that it would be enough to make them investigate over there. The sound of cursing, followed by the telltale rustling of dead leaves and grass of men moving away. I waited until my rapid breathing had slowed down a little before I checked again. The bodies were still there, and I could see something moving in the direction of that last scream, but that was it.

  My pulse continued to gallop in my throat as I dropped back to the ground, making sure to land on a patch of bare earth that muffled all sounds. I was about to head further west when I glimpsed something on the last soldier’s belt. Returning to the scene of the crime seemed like a stupid thing to do, but I figured it was worth the risk to grab the two grenades he had been armed with. As I turned to go, my eyes latched onto his face, deathly pale underneath the blood spatters, his eyes staring at nothing. Bile came up in my throat but I forced myself to swallow it as I slinked away. I couldn’t say what was different—I had killed people before. But now was certainly not the time to dwell on that.

  I cut through the forest parallel to the road we’d been following, roughly where I’d guessed Nate had disappeared to. Sure enough, I found the slumped-over bodies of two more soldiers neatly stashed behind two oaks growing close enough together that their roots and branches intertwined. Very poetic, that. Also a good hiding spot, I realized, when the crunch of leaves ahead made me hunker down right over the bodies. Two more soldiers advanced, a lot more cautious and scared than the ones I’d encountered before. They froze when something to their right rustled in the grass, both pointing their weapons at it, but it turned out to be a small animal scurrying away. Problem was, the oaks were the only trees with trunks large enough to hide me, and as skittish as the advancing soldiers were, I doubted that I could sneak away except for taking the route back from where I’d come—not knowing if any of the other soldiers had returned to get the bodies or something. And I was quickly running out of options as they came closer and closer.

  Cursing low under my breath, I looked up at the branches of the oaks. Not ideal, but with luck I would be able to scramble up high enough that one could support me for longer than a few seconds. But that would leave me well above the level I felt comfortable with—

  “Did you hear that?” one of the soldiers asked the other, pointing his rifle in my direction. I held my breath, ready to slap myself. In a spur of the moment decision I picked up a stick and hurled in the direction I had come from, hoping that would distract them long enough so I could climb the tree. The soldier’s attention turned to where the stick hit a smallish pine struggling to grow tall enough to reach the light, and I exploded up from my crouch. Every scuffling sound my boots made on the bark made me wince, but somehow I managed to get up there without getting shot. What little sound I made got the soldiers focusing back on the oaks, and together they advanced on my position.

  I knew I was out of luck when they rounded the oaks and found the bodies, both immediately shouting for others to come over. One of them had two brain cells to rub together and used them to glance up from where he was crouching next to the bodies, his gaze skipping over where I was hunkering down on a thick branch, but quickly returning. Busted.

  I didn’t hesitate as I pulled the pin from the grenade, and after counting to three I dropped it. That was about the same moment as the soldier opened his mouth to relay the new information.

  The grenade went off right in that guy’s face, instantly decapitating him. Gore splashed everywhere, the shockwave of the explosion enough to almost throw me off my branch although I had been bracing for it. The other guy
wasn’t so lucky, only getting his left arm blown off and half of his cheek.

  If they’d been adamant about alerting their comrades before, his piercing screams did an even better job now. Through the leaves of the oak I saw several soldiers come running from every direction, cutting off my flight route. So up was my only option.

  Before long I got queasy, feeling the tree sway under my weight the higher I climbed. Soon all I could see were the legs of the soldier I’d killed, but the wailing of the other kept me well-informed of what else was going on down there. Shouts got louder as the others joined him, someone ordering in a pressed voice for another to see to the screamer’s wounds.

  “Get your shit back together, Nelson!” the same voice went on. “What happened?”

  The screaming cut off, but only for a few seconds, to resume as sobbing with the odd groan sprinkled in. “Not sure, sir! Beckings heard something so we went to investigate. I just saw the bodies, and then—“ The soldier cut off with a pained sound, followed by retching. Craning my neck, I tried to get a better look. There were body parts everywhere, the grenade having reduced the dead to so much more meat.

  One of the soldiers stepped back from the others, looking up the trees, and I did my best to remain out of sight. I was tempted to drop the second grenade, but my timing had been exceptionally lucky the first time around. It might have gone off in my face instead, or bounced away. And I had a feeling that I would need it later.

  A whistle coming from an adjacent fir—a huge one at that, even thicker than the oaks—made me focus on that tree instead. I expected it to be Nate, but after some searching I made out Pia where she had strapped herself to the trunk, using a cargo lashing belt for a makeshift climbing harness. Once she saw that she had my attention, she signaled me whether I had another grenade. When I held it up for her to see, she extended her hands, making a catching motion. When I didn’t throw it right over she pointed at me, then down at the soldiers, making a shooting motion and then ordered me to run, before she pointed at herself and did a lobbing motion. I debated ignoring her order—after all, theoretically, I was above her in our group’s hierarchy—but then did as she’d indicated and sent the grenade her way. She caught it without fumbling, then pulled an assault rifle on a strap over her head and threw it right back at me. The weapon sailed expertly through the air, only to make me scramble and almost fall out of the tree in my attempt to catch it. I managed somehow, my pulse skyrocketing as I realized just how high up I was. The fact that it was slick with blood didn’t escape me. The voices on the ground cut off except for the whimpering, letting me know that I’d have to act now, or it would be too late. The Ice Queen gave me a nod as if she’d read my mind, then pointed southwest. I acknowledged that, and told myself to hope for the best.

  I couldn’t really see what was going on down there, so there was no need to take aim. Simply trying not to fall off my branch as I emptied the magazine at anything that moved seemed like a good idea. As long as I was shooting, nobody could take aim—or that was my plan. They’d also have a hard time tracking anyone by sound, I realized, but the same would be true for myself. Awesome.

  The magazine clicked empty way too soon, and then all I could do was try to get down to the ground before anyone could shoot me. I wisely chose a path on the other side of the oak, and once I was maybe fifteen feet up, I ran along one of the thickest branches of the tree and flung myself at another branch from the other oak. Shots rang out behind me but missed, the foliage still too thick up here. Seconds later, the grenade went off, right by the roots where the other had landed. The shockwave wasn’t powerful, but it was enough to startle me. I lost my balance and slipped, but on my way down managed to grab and hold on to a smaller side branch. It wasn’t thick enough to support me, but as it bent, it slowed my momentum enough that my final drop to the ground only slammed the air out of my lungs, not made me fall and break my neck.

  I took off as soon as I got my bearings, using the few slanting sunbeams that reached the ground to find the right direction. Shouts grew loud and I heard more sounds of confusion behind me as they lost track of me between the trees.

  Yet rather than keep on running, I threw myself onto the ground next to a group of young spruces, hiding under the low branches of the trees. The soldiers went right past. As soon as they were gone, I rolled out on the other side and ran on to where I saw a few logs stacked up, prepped to be hauled off by trucks that had never come. I came to lie on my back, looking up to try to check if anyone had seen me—only to come face to face with a huge-ass spider, suspended in the middle of a dew-speckled web.

  I snapped my mouth shut halfway through my deep inhale, forcing my entire body to go still. I would not die here because some fucking eight-legged monster made me wail like a banshee! My lungs were screaming for air, my pulse increasing further as panic closed down my throat, and I forced myself to breathe out, watching with trepidation as the spider vibrated in its net.

  Something closed around my ankle, making me go rigid as my body geared up for a fight, but then I saw Nate’s unruly shock of hair behind the spider. He had a weird look on his face as he watched me, until his gaze snagged away from my eyes. Flashing me a quick grin, he reached down and scooped up the spider, making me bolt in the opposite direction, scurrying away while he deposited the recalcitrant arachnid on a log. Skin all over my body itched as I came to my feet, shaking myself.

  Still smirking, Nate raised a finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction the soldiers had disappeared in. He held up his hand, fingers spread, then closed it to a fist and raised two more. Seven soldiers remaining. Considering that Pia was here, I figured Burns must be, too, leveling the odds in our favor. I looked toward the road, raising one shoulder in question. He nodded, pointing at me, then east. I acknowledged his order and slinked off in that direction. He was gone as soon as I turned my back on him.

  I circled back about halfway to where I’d killed the three soldiers in the beginning before I advanced toward the road. After the chaos of the explosions, the forest had fallen eerily quiet. Through the thinning trees I could make out the Humvees and the Rover, still unscathed. As I crept closer, I got a first glimpse of the three men between the vehicles, standing watch. Two were young soldiers like the rest—scared out of their minds and obviously rethinking every bad choice they’d ever made in their entire lives. The third man was armed as well, albeit with a pistol rather than a rifle—and him I recognized. It was one of the medical professionals that Taggard had with him at the underground complex. He must have been off duty when I’d managed to escape. I couldn’t exactly be sure, but I thought he was the one who’d delighted in sticking needles into the veins at the backs of my knees.

  Anger reared its ugly head, but I did my best to remain levelheaded and not launch myself at him right this very second. Yet when I saw Nate appear between the trees on the opposite side of the road—however he had gotten there that fast—I whistled softly at him to get his attention. When he glanced my way, I signaled him that the doc was mine. He stood out enough from the others that it was easy to single him out. Nate made a slicing gesture toward his throat, but I shook my head, instead holding two fingers up to my mouth. I had no clue if any of the soldiers knew why they were after us, but that one was our best bet.

  I expected Nate to go for a stealthy approach, but instead he stepped out onto the road, gun raised, hitting one of the soldiers right between the eyes. Before the other had time to point his rifle at Nate, Burns materialized behind him, grabbing his head and breaking his neck in one smooth motion. The bodies fell to the ground almost in unison, my ears still ringing from the single gunshot. The doc gave a squeaking sound, raising his gun, but when he found himself confronted with both me and Nate, repaying the favor, he dropped it, his hands shaking visibly.

  “Don’t kill me! Please!” he begged, glancing from one of us to the other while trying to somehow keep Burns in his field of vision as well. He gave a start when Pia stepped up next t
o Burns, not even bothering with drawing a weapon. That made me guess that all the soldiers were dead now

  “Talk,” Nate said, almost conversationally, although his voice held a certain edge. I wondered if he realized that I knew who that guy was, or if he’d seen my silent prompt as merely a suggestion. I figured it was the former; he seemed way too tense for a casual interrogation.

  And exactly where had my life taken a turn for the worse that such notions made me smile, even if it was a mirthless one?

  Until then, the guy seemed to have missed the significance of who I was, but when I looked from Nate back to him, I found him staring at me, a pinched look on his face.

  “Why should I?” he asked, his gaze remaining on me. “She’s only going to kill me, anyway.”

  I almost felt proud that I’d risen from guinea pig to murderer in his eyes, but it was a rather accurate assessment.

  Nate gave a slight shrug, his gun never wavering. “If I’m not completely wrong, you gave her plenty of reasons to do worse things to you than just end your life with a single shot.”

  I expected some slurs—or at the very least a defiant sneer—but the doc just kept staring at me, his lips pressed together, waiting. Or so I thought, until suddenly he began to shake, his eyes first going wide, then scrunched shut, his face contorting with intense pain.