Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 2 | Books 4-6

by Lecter, Adrienne

  I patiently listened while she rattled off the list, impressed that she’d not only found the time to keep track of everything, but had already worked out a few different routes that would let us meet with new people without losing too much time.

  “Do we have any updates on enemy movements?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing so far. But wasn’t that the plan with leaving early and making a hard push right at the beginning of our journey?”

  “Intentions only ever get you so far. Let me know if anything changes about that.”

  The beans were as horrible as they smelled, at least judging from the faces people made all around. I ate them without much enthusiasm, but got a refill once I’d finished the first cup.

  Nate took over driving until the sun set. Then it was my turn. Twice we changed roads until we hit the next meeting point west of Beaver, Utah, but there was no one waiting for us as we reached the crossroads. Gita tried to make contact with the group, but only static answered her. My paranoia took a hike at that, but Nate ignored my anxious drumming on the wheel. We went east rather than north next, veering off the vector that would have led us more or less straight toward Salt Lake City. Instead, up into the mountains we went. We made camp at daybreak and I joined Nate and a small hunting party, trying to get some extra protein on the menu. By the time we lugged the two bucks we managed to shoot back to camp, the second watch rotation was on. I hit the sack curled up under a large birch, happy to let the relatively cool mountain air soothe me to sleep.

  Someone had saved me some venison stew for breakfast, but I was happy to get a helping from what used to be rabbits, as well. I hadn’t expected there to be so much game around here, but it turned out that we had a few proficient hunters along. Just as we were about to head toward the lowlands again, a train of cars appeared on the winding trail behind us—the group we’d missed the day before. Four more cars and ten people for our cause—and a shitload of bread, the reason why they’d been late. I was surprised to hear that, although nomads for the most part, their group of around fifty people had brought in the harvest they’d sowed in the spring, their surplus of wheat a nuisance now that trade had dried up with two settlements in Arizona. All the better for us, really, but from their leader’s quizzical looks while he explained, I figured that they were among those who hoped that peace would come from our venture rather than a permanent divide. When I asked him why they didn’t break camp permanently and move to New Angeles, he just shook his head, explaining that while they had no interest in raiding cities or smashing zombie heads, they didn’t believe in walls, either.

  Two more cars joined us on the way over to Ashley National Forest, where we camped for an entire day, stocking up on meat and any kind of vegetable or fruit we could scrounge up from all around. The ranger station we found had been raided, but not the small vegetable patch behind it, yielding some tomatoes, peppers, and a nice helping of berries. The hunting surplus was roasted on spits over a few larger fire pits, but we soon realized that came with its own issues—shamblers from what seemed to be half of the state were drawn in by the scents of barbecue, forcing us to leave early, and still waste a good two hours culling the herds. I didn’t mind the exercise, but we lost three people—one from breaking his neck after falling down a steep incline, two more to getting torn apart by the undead.

  Then it was time to head to Red Canyon—and hopefully recoup our losses. I actually felt giddy on my perch at the passenger side, adrenaline still pumping through my veins from the zombie killing, and anticipation of meeting familiar faces once more keeping the doom and gloom at bay. I wasn’t disappointed as we rolled toward the meeting spot, where a good twenty cars were already waiting for us, hulking dark next to the reddish rock formations. In that venue, Jason’s shock of red hair didn’t stick out as much as usual.

  If it had been just us and the Chargers, I would have hurled myself at him right away, but I had an image to keep up, so I took my time exiting, making sure that the pile of vehicles behind us wasn’t about to turn anyone into roadkill. The man stepping up to Jason’s side made me doubly glad that I hadn’t succumbed to any childish impulses. Chino Torres looked ready to chew stone with his scowl, and it didn’t lighten as he watched Nate and me approach.

  Because he was closer, I shook Torres’s hand first, nodding at him while my stomach knotted up with trepidation. I was well aware that it wasn’t my fault what had happened to Gussy, but just seeing him made it impossible not to think how our meet-up with his people had ended at that factory. Jason had none of that stately business, using my extended hand to pull me into a hug, laughing when I squealed in protest. “Damn, it’s good to see you again, girl,” he said low enough that it didn’t carry, but took his sweet time before he let go once more. “After we heard that they’d napped you in Colorado, we were ready to head right over. Just like you to get yourself out of a tight spot on your own before we could ride to the rescue!”

  I couldn’t help but grin at that. “Well, I’ll make sure to find some heads for you to bash in now. Just so you don’t feel slighted.”

  Jason gave a grim nod, but it was Torres who answered. “More than happy to help.” In the meanwhile, the remaining members of their groups had joined us, and I had to wince when I realized that there were only five of the Raiders left. Torres had no problems interpreting my wince, answering with a derisive snort. “We did our best to get our girl back, but the trail was cold by the time we got there. Didn’t mean that we were smart enough to avoid the trap they set for us. If we hadn’t heard that you were starting this to finally settle the score for good, I’m not sure any of us would still be alive.”

  I debated how much to tell him, but I owed him the truth, at the very least. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t get Gussy out, but I think by the time they dragged me there, it was already too late. She killed a good many of them when she turned. We burned her body when we got back there.” Torres looked taken aback at first, and it took me a moment to realize that he had no reason to have guessed that she would have converted into a zombie. “They shot her up with some bastardized version of the virus, trying to create a new, working version of the serum. She paid them back for that.” No reason to go into details. I very much wished I could have kept all that from my people, too. Torres nodded, Jason joining in, the moment something between somber and awkward. I refused to give in to the hint of guilt that was trying to whisper up my spine.

  “We heard about what happened to your guys,” Jason said, his eyes briefly skipping to where Pia and Burns had joined us, making it painfully obvious that we hadn’t exactly fared better than Torres and his group.

  Jason’s second in command, Charlie, nodded next to him, his face set in a grim mask. “We’ve spent the last weeks chomping at the bit, waiting for some action. This means payback.”

  He got a faintly bemused look from Jason for that, who tried to hide it when he caught me watching. “We managed to establish radio contact with them a couple days ago. Romanoff is convinced that the coast is clear and it’s about time for them to leave the settlement, but he’s the only one. Santos told me to tell you that he’s ready to clobber him over the head if need be, to make sure he doesn’t crawl out there and get himself killed.”

  Charlie added, “Martinez says hello.”

  So that’s what Jason’s look had been about. After Dispatch, I’d briefly wondered if there was more than just a booze-fueled fling going on—sneaky as they had been, a lot less obvious than the rest of us—but I’d pretty much forgotten about all that after the factory. I couldn’t help but feel glad that, all shit that was going down aside, there were still people out there who were hoping for a future—any possible future together. Maybe that very thought would keep our medic from following Taylor.

  While I was mulling that over, my eyes skipped to the assembled cars that Jason and Torres had brought with them, and I couldn’t help but ogle the three honest-to-God horse-drawn carts waiting behind the other vehicles. I half-ex
pected there to be bonnet-wearing women sitting next to the drivers.

  “Your friends?” I asked Jason, realizing that I’d never inquired exactly who his people in Utah were. My barely contained disdain, ill-placed as it was, must have translated well into my tone, making Jason bark out a bout of laughter.

  “That they are. Wouldn’t believe how many people in a community survive when none of them have access to Starbucks.” He kept on grinning but pitched his voice lower, ignoring Charlie’s eye roll. “Just don’t use the name of the Lord in vain. That really upsets them. They’re pretty mellow otherwise.”

  “Wait, do you plan on taking them with us?” Just the fact that they’d managed to keep livestock around this long was marvelous, but I didn’t want to consider what would happen to the horses next time we cut the zombie culling a little too close.

  Jason shook his head. “Just came with us to distribute provisions. Or did you plan on keeping that many people on the road fed on just what you pick up along the way?”

  That was a good point—and more planning than most others had shown. We still had a good stock of staples from New Angeles, but it wouldn’t hold up much longer if everyone expected us to feed them. When I told Jason as much, he made a nonchalant gesture, but I could tell that he got a kick out of it. Charlie took off toward the wagons, and at Nate’s nod Pia rallied people from our train to get the provisions and distribute everything evenly so no one could take out half our supplies with a well-placed RPG.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Torres asked, making me realize that I had been scowling again.

  “Just worried in general. Things have gone way too smooth so far.”

  My paranoia didn’t faze him. “Bet that won’t hold up much longer. Never does.”

  And wasn’t that the truth?

  It took us another hour to get everything settled before the carts rumbled back down the road we’d come up, while our train moved on, heading north toward Wyoming.

  Chapter 17

  We camped in the hills of what used to be Medicine Bow national forest, my heart heavy with the knowledge that only an hour or two north lay the bunker where we’d spent the winter. It wasn’t just Emma’s misgivings that kept us well clear of the territory the Wyoming Collective had claimed as theirs. I wondered if they’d finished the wall they’d been busy building last time we’d dropped in, half an eternity ago. The weather was still mild, but I remembered from last year how few weeks they still had left to hunker down for the winter. Then it was just waiting until they thawed out again in spring. They’d had all year to plan, so I knew they would do well. Us? An entirely different situation. I was tempted to get on the radio to try to get some intel out of Dave or Kevin, but refrained. The less reasons anyone had to come after them, the better. It still rankled that we passed the coordinates that we’d left where someone might have joined and found the side of the road abandoned. Not that I’d had my hopes up, but still. They’d been our people. Obvious emphasis on past tense.

  With the provisions that Jason’s people had brought, we were well set up, but that didn’t keep Pia from sending out two hunting parties. I munched my rations without much enthusiasm, sure that Nate would make me eat stew later if they caught anything. Perching on the hood of the Rover, I watched the bustle of the camp around us as people got comfortable, the promise of food and increasing numbers raising everyone’s spirits. The same seemed to be true for Nate as he came sauntering over to me, ditching the light pack he’d carried on perimeter guard, but leaving his AK out. I expected him to park himself next to me, but instead he leaned in, his breath warm against the sweaty side of my neck. “You look like you could use some distraction.” He followed that up with a comical eyebrow wriggle that made me burst out laughing. Apparently, we were those kind of people.

  Glancing at the nearest bunch of scavengers—who ignored us—I shrugged. “Got anything specific in mind?” Considering that it was Nate we were talking about, there was always a chance that he was jonesing for some sniper practice, not the obvious.

  “You, up against a tree.” That still wasn’t a clear answer. I stared right back at him, letting him have a taste of his own medicine. He finally cracked, grinning, adding a succinct, “At least somewhat naked.”

  Before I could quip more than a “Sounds good,” he pulled me off the hood of the car and started marching me toward the tree line bordering our camp, making me chuckle with his apparent eagerness. “My, someone’s got it bad—“ I remarked, but found myself pressed against the trunk of a spruce, him silencing me with his mouth coming down on mine. I didn’t waste time on checking the surroundings—he had been on watch, after all; it stood to reason that he had checked out this part of the sparse forest—as I dropped my shotgun next to me, then got busy working on his belt.

  “Yeah, you’re one to talk,” he teased when my hand found its way inside his pants, getting right to business. He didn’t let me get an answer in edgewise, his lips back on mine, but he wasn’t half as rushed as might have been warranted if he hadn’t had a good hundred people ready to come after the odd shambler drawn close. My own pants hit my knees, the bark of the tree raspy against my naked ass, but when I attempted to untangle myself from him enough so I could get one boot off to free that leg, Nate flipped me around, pressing my shoulder into the tree while he reached between my partly spread legs from behind. “Easier this way,” he observed as he molded himself against my back.

  I laughed softly, my breath hitching ever so slightly. Yeah, the zombie apocalypse had done a thing or two to cut down on anyone’s need for foreplay. “Doesn’t it go against operational security if we’re both facing the same way?” I suggested. “You know, I could always look over your shoulder while you’re humping me against that tree, face to face.”

  “But groping you is harder that way,” he observed, putting action to his words. “Besides, fuck operational security.”

  The words that he shouldn’t jinx it lay on my tongue—and then a shot rang out over the camp, followed by shouting.

  I froze, same as Nate. More shots answered, the general din getting louder. “Doesn’t sound like the hunting party,” I offered the moment he pulled away from me, scrambling to get his clothes in place before picking up his weapon. I did the same, cursing low under my breath.

  “No. Unless someone started sniping with a handgun, it’s not.”

  I let Nate take point, not just because his AK had a greater reach than my shotgun, but also because I was still busy cinching my belt while he was casing our immediate vicinity. “Clear,” he reported as yet another barrage of shots went off, followed by someone emptying several slugs from a shotgun with emphasis.

  “Zombies?” I asked, not bothering with disbanding the doubt in my tone as I stepped around him, taking point as we started back toward the camp.

  “Doubt it. We have a perimeter up for a reason.”

  Something exploded ahead of us, making me pause, then glance around the last of the trees. Smoke billowed up from farther into the camp, but I couldn’t see the origin yet. The Rover and a few other cars parked haphazardly next to it stood abandoned, angry shouting and the sound of more weapons going off coming from further west. Without having to be prompted, I aimed for the Rover first so Nate could pick up his pack. I didn’t bother with getting mine from the car—I packed enough firepower as it was, and if this really went south, we’d share. There was hoping that we wouldn’t need to start lobbing grenades with our people scattered all around.

  About fifty yards on we found the dead body of a man on the ground. I didn’t check for a pulse because half of his face was missing, and the fact that the side of his neck was bare—just one mark at the very back of it—made me disregard him immediately. Threats first. Glancing through the windows of the car I was hiding behind, I could see two other men crouching behind a pickup a few feet to our left. At my whistle, they looked up, confusion plain on their faces.

  “No clue what’s going on,” one of them whisper-sh
outed in our direction. “All was clear, then someone started shooting. He was already down when we ran for cover.”

  Unease crept up my spine, my mind momentarily indecisive whether I could trust them, but Nate took that decision from me when he sprinted over to a boulder that lay conveniently both between us and the men, and whatever was going on up ahead. I covered him the best I could as we advanced, hating the uncertainty of not knowing what the fuck was going on.

  Things picked up when a minute later we found Charlie and two more of the Chargers crossing our way, although they looked as confused as I felt. “We were out on perimeter guard,” Jason’s second-in-command explained. “Just before the first shots were fired, one of the guards on the western side called in that he found one of his buddies slumped over behind a tree.”

  Nate took the intel with a nod. “Makes sense that they’d move just after shift change.”

  That made me frown. “That means they were watching us, and you missed them when you were out there?”

  Nate gave me a cold look. “Watching, yes, but not from the outside.”

  “Shit.” There was no sense in explaining what that meant.

  With our numbers doubled now, we continued forward, Nate and Charlie taking point while I remained to Nate’s right side, guarding our flank. The commotion ahead got louder, the acrid smell of smoke tickling my nostrils. We passed a few small groups of people, some just looking scared, most taking care of a wounded comrade. Then we finally reached the center of camp where the cooking fires still burned, meeting resistance. When I saw the three guys hunkering to the side of another vehicle, I was about to disregard them, but from the edge of my vision I recognized the telltale motion of a muzzle being pointed my way, and I shot before he could pull the trigger. Nate turned immediately, sending two bouts of semi-auto fire at the men, killing the one my shotgun blast had hit in the legs, and wounding a second. Three slugs and the other two were gone as well. I followed Nate as he ran over, crouching beside them to check on them. I didn’t recognize them, but their gear looked just like ours, as did their weapons—well-maintained, but not matching, a long shot from anything resembling a uniform. All of them had a single mark across their necks.