Green Fields (Book 9): Exodus

by Lecter, Adrienne

  Hands grabbed me from behind, not unlike inside the tunnel, but my brain didn’t kick right up into fight mode. A moment later I realized that it was Burns, yanking me into one of the offices lining the hallway. As soon as we were through, Tanner threw the door closed, leaning against it, Burns immediately joining him—to keep it closed as a series of impacts made the sturdy wood shudder. Looking around, I found Gita hunched over next to a desk—and that was it.

  “Where are the others?” I asked, panting softly from my little sprint.

  Tanner jerked his chin in the vague direction of where the recreational area was. “Trying to break the others free. They tried to make a run for it but got pinned down. Miller figured we’d hold our own as just the four of us so he took the rest across to get the others.”

  I didn’t ask why I hadn’t heard any of that on the coms—it made sense not to distract us with chatter that didn’t concern us, and might just get us killed. “Hamilton and Richards?”

  Tanner winced but Burns was only too happy to respond. “Down the corridor toward the exit. Richards promised he’d keep the exit open until all of us were through.”

  My fingers involuntarily clenched around my rifle, so I busied myself with slamming a new magazine in and redistributing the few full ones I still had left.

  “So, what, Bucky abandoned all of his people to let his arch nemesis be the hero and get them out? We sure this isn’t a recruitment mission?” I jeered. It sure looked like that—the perfect bait for Nate to take, particularly after leaving me to die a lonely death at the other end of the installation with freak zombies lurking around. Suddenly, the fact that nobody had made sure Aimes wouldn’t come back from the dead looked a lot less like casual negligence.

  As expected, I got no response to that, not that I needed one. I had more pressing concerns to deal with. Stepping up to Gita, I forced her to look straight at me so I could check her eyes. Her forehead was burning up, and even though she tried to hide it, I could tell that she was shivering all over.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked, mostly to distract herself than get a response, I was sure.

  “The exit’s right around the corner,” I offered. “If not for the shamblers out there—”

  Who did a good job howling and screaming as they tried to claw their way inside the room. I only needed Burns to look up briefly to find that they’d already dislodged the panel in the ceiling that opened into the ducts. “Let me guess. We make sure they can’t get inside, drop down in a different room, and take it from there?”

  Burns gave a soft laugh. “Just like old times for you, right?”

  I didn’t particularly like the idea, even less with full gear, weapons, and rabid zombies hot on our heels, but it was a viable option—and much preferable to trying to get out of the room through the door.

  “Help me with the desk?” I asked Gita. Together, we pushed it toward the door so Tanner and Burns only needed to hop aside. It wasn’t a good lock—and Tanner pulled over the one shelf in the room to make it a somewhat better barrier—but that was all we had. Burns was already standing underneath the open panel, ready to boost me up, and I let him without further protest. Going first, at least nobody would blind me with their light.

  After pulling myself up into the duct, I took a moment to orient myself. From what I could tell, the duct ran from the bioreactor to the common area, so the direction to go was pretty obvious. Gita was right behind me, moving with a lot more alacrity than she had a right to, considering how crappy she must have been feeling by then, but I wasn’t going to complain about that. It was dark inside but not pitch black, the soft, red light coming through the vent at the next room over letting me see enough to know where to go. I moved with slow deliberation, trying not to bang my entire way through the duct, but from what I could hear coming up behind me, Tanner and Burns didn’t exactly have that option.

  I reached the vent soon enough, cursing under my breath when my fingers had a hard time fiddling with the screws. That punch really had busted my right hand. I even considered trying to kick the cover loose but a few seconds later I finally made progress—only to find a hungry shambler already waiting below, making a jump for me the moment the cover swung downward into the room. I jerked back immediately, banging my head and left elbow on the duct walls, but at least the shambler didn’t manage to bite my face right off. It found purchase on the rim of the lid, though, immediately trying to pull itself up. Damn, but I really didn’t like them when they were smart.

  My grip strength wasn’t strong enough to pry its fingers loose—I was more than aware of that, so I went for option B instead and contorted myself, trying to reach my Beretta.

  “What’s going on?” I heard Gita call out softly from behind me.

  “Room’s occupied,” I pressed out, cursing when my fingers barely reached the holster, but not far enough to get the gun out. “Need to dissuade that fucker from coming into the ducts.”

  I felt Gita move behind me, for a second thinking she’d try to abandon me, irrational as that idea was. “Wait a sec,” she responded, closer now. “Maybe don’t kick me in the face now… got it!” A moment later, I felt the cool steel of a handgun brush my seeking fingers. Not my own, but I didn’t give a shit. Grabbing it, I pulled it forward, lined up the sight, and blew the shambler’s head to smithereens with a few well-aimed shots. From that distance, it would have been harder to miss, really. Blood and gore sprayed all over my face, making me wince inside, but at least the thing dropped back into the room. Two more were already standing there, fixing me with that unnervingly smart gaze. Pushing forward, I grabbed the vent cover and pulled it up, happy to feel it snap in place automatically.

  “Yeah, we need another exit,” I observed dryly.

  “You think?” came Gita’s retort. I probably had that coming.

  I presumed the others had by now realized what was going on so I didn’t relay any further warnings as I crawled forward to the next vent. This one was above a corridor, and I didn’t even need to remove the cover to see two shamblers standing there, looking up at the ceiling with the same expectancy as cats about to receive their food dish. On I went to where the duct intersected with another. I tried to orient myself but really, it was the same where we dropped out, as long as we could do so. So I went right, mostly because the next vent was closer in that direction. Behind Gita, I heard Tanner curse softly as it took him a while to maneuver around the bend. Oops.

  The next two vents were a bust as well, so at the next intersection, I turned left—and this time, it took much longer for the next cover to appear, making me guess that we were traversing the space of the corridor running by the recreational area. I waited for another left turn that might lead to the offices, but none came. It got so dark that even I had trouble seeing, suddenly glad for what little light from Gita’s flashlight made it past my body. I halted when I felt a broader rim in the vents where I presumed they passed into the next structural part of the maze of rooms—which was either the exit, or the animal wing. The former would have been neat but the latter was much more likely. That guess pretty much confirmed itself when I heard hushed voices underneath me, making me halt for a second. Maybe I should have mentioned to the others that we were about to invade their hideout from above so they wouldn’t shoot at us? But no shots were fired, and the next grate opened into a dark, closed-off room with lots of shelving on the walls—some kind of storage area. I listened, half-hanging out of the ceiling, then let myself drop out and tiptoed to the door. Before I could reach the handle, the door swung outward, low, red light flooding the room—revealing Nate, who was flashing a quick smile over his shoulder. “Cole, you owe me twenty bucks.”

  Chapter 17

  I whistled, giving Gita and the other two the go signal, and turned back to my husband. “Did you know that most of the rooms on the other side of the rec area are full of freaky zombies that are very enamored with vent covers?”

  “Good to see you, too,” he told me instead, y
et his attention was already moving on. The critical look he taxed Gita with made my stomach sink, and suddenly that damn “you’re not in charge” reminder from Hamilton felt like a burden lifted off my chest—which, in turn, made me feel like shit. No way I was going to abandon her, but the fact that someone might have to make that call sucked. I took it as a good sign that he moved on to Tanner and Burns next, waiting until both men had given a curt nod—whatever that was about.

  The pile of us stepped out into the hallway, finding the rest of our group huddled there, one of the fire doors creating a natural barrier at the end everyone’s attention was on. As expected, McClintock was missing, and Russell, Parker, Cole, Munez, Hill, and Davis were bleeding from several wounds, barely patched up as they were. The rest also looked the worse for wear but in somewhat better shape. Since that was only Williams, Wu, and Murdock, things could have been better.

  “Time?” Nate asked rather than explained what bet Cole had lost. Probably something about me and the ducts.

  “Seven minutes left,” Hill offered.

  Nate gave a quick nod, calm as if Hill had said hours instead. “That’s enough. We have two doors, along the common area, and down the exit corridor. Remember, there’s a five-second klaxon before the security system snaps to sudden death status. You have those five seconds to put on your gas masks. Everyone got theirs ready? Good.”

  I didn’t, but it was a quick grab into my pack and some fumbling to fix it to my belt where I could grab it easily. I was about to ask what exactly the plan was, but Nate already turned to us to bring us up to speed. “We try to make a run for it, using our last grenades to make those undead fuckers hesitate long enough that we can get through. My expectation is that they will retreat once the corridors get pelted with formaldehyde and whatnot, so being slower might work in our favor.” While he said that, his fingers snapped a quick, “Remember what I told you,” at me. I blinked once to show him that I had gotten the message—me first, and let the others fend for themselves. As much as I hated to admit it, that was the best plan, seeing as I wouldn’t be able to drag someone like Burns or Hill along, but not taking away space and capacity from someone else might get them saved in the meantime. The way Tanner was plastered to Gita’s side made me guess that I wouldn’t have to worry about her, either—good.

  “Five,” Hill called out, putting an end to any chit-chat still going on.

  “Get ready,” Nate said. His gaze lingered on my face for a second before he whipped around, taking position at the very front of the group. “Munez, Davis, open the doors on my mark. Three, two, go!”

  The moment they unlocked the doors and gave them a strong push outward, the shamblers in the hallway beyond—four of them—sprang forward, only to be met with a barrage of rifle fire. On my own, I hadn’t been able to fire enough bullets in a short enough window of time to bring them to a halt, but those four were turned into sieves within seconds, joining the lifeless husks already littering the floor. Nate and Hill took point, reaching the second set of doors just as I passed through the first. The same repeated itself, only that beyond the short stretch of corridor, the recreational area lay, with lots of cover, and space. So much open space. After the claustrophobic environs of the tunnel and ducts, and spending an hour in the hot lab, I hadn’t thought it possible, but I absolutely hated feeling like I had air to breathe.

  At first, there was only a handful of zombies coming at us, easily dispatched just as the ones before them, but I knew that wasn’t all of them. I’d seen more than that lurk in the offices leading to the other wing—and there was no way they hadn’t heard us coming. But we made it out of the corridor and along the wall of the open space, passing the server room and the blood splatter—now no longer the only one—and were almost around the collection of sofas when we got a glimpse at the corridor leading to the exit. That’s when my heart sank.

  I hadn’t expected to just waltz out of here. The entire way back from the hot lab had been an ordeal, peppered with forces that easily matched our own. My guess had been that there were a good twenty to thirty shamblers lurking in the entire complex, and considering the bodies on the floor we’d passed, that count should have been in the single digits by now—a manageable number for a dozen strong, healthy, armed people who knew what they were doing.

  I hadn’t expected the entire exit corridor to be chock-full of zombies, a good fifty or so of them.

  Well, that likely explained why nobody had heard much of anything from Hamilton. I briefly entertained myself with the idea that he’d been torn to tiny shreds, but it was much more likely that he and Richards had painstakingly slowly sneaked and murdered their way to the exit. They’d left a trail on the floor that I could pick out even now. I couldn’t see them or their precious sample containers anywhere, which likely meant our mission had been a success. But it really didn’t look great for the rest of us.

  We’d had a good run, I figured. So many times over, any of us could have died down here, or on the way. Hell, I should have died long before getting to Europe. Now it was time to pay up.

  Looking at Nate, I expected a brief wisecrack from him. A last, “At least it wasn’t your nagging that killed us,” if there ever was one. No hope, but conviction to go down in one last blaze of glory.

  Oh, the conviction was there—but no surprise. Only calculation.

  That’s when I realized that he’d known that we would be encountering this. And it made sense—Burns and Tanner hadn’t tried to do anything but go into the ducts. That calm he’d been showing? That hadn’t been confidence. That had been the face of a man who knew he was going to die but refused to give in to panic, grief, or anger. And it was the face of a man with a plan, it turned out. For one last second, Nate’s gaze lingered on my face, as if he was committing every line of it to memory. Then he averted his eyes, looking at his men instead.

  “Cole, you know what to do?” A quick nod, if no verbal answer. “Burns?”

  “We’ll give ‘em hell,” Burns responded from where he was crouching behind me.

  “Tanner?”

  No answer, and when I glanced at him, I could see why—he and Gita were having their own last private moment, whether it was as friends, or a little more than that. Then he glanced at Hill, giving him a brief nod before his attention turned to Nate. “Let’s do this.”

  Deep inside of me, a part of me was screaming “NO!” but all I could do was watch, helpless, as Nate and Tanner surged forward, screaming at the top of their lungs, aiming for the corridor leading deeper into the complex. A handful of zombies went right after them, but many hesitated. Munez, Cole, Hill, and Williams hurled grenades into the exit corridor, the four detonations going off as almost one. More zombies followed, immediately to be met with fire. Given the choice between two loud, soft targets and a handful armed ones, of course they went after the former. I watched, and felt a part of me die.

  He hadn’t even given me a chance to say goodbye.

  Deep down, I realized that it was shock that kept me rooted in the spot, if only for a moment. Yet when I sprang to my feet, ready to blindly run after Nate, Cole grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the exit. I tried to protest, but just then, the red lights increased in brightness, flashing, and an unbelievably loud wail started up, hurting down to my teeth and very bones. I scrambled to get my mask on, and by the time it sealed around my face, Cole had managed to drag me halfway down the corridor, with more people piling after us. Hill was carrying Gita slung over his shoulders, building a natural barrier behind me. And if that hadn’t been enough, Burns was one of the last to follow, making sure that I wasn’t going to get out of that corridor anymore, unless it was through the exit.

  They’d known this was going to happen. They’d planned this. And I’d been too stupid to realize it.

  Liquid started to rain down on us on the last few yards to the exit, through the checkpoint and the final door beyond. I barely noticed it. My gaze briefly snagged to one of the red spray-painted arrows, quickly
washed away in a pink cloud by the liquids designed to keep the entire facility clean. Davis went down—my mind barely caught up with it although I managed to reduce one of the zombies’ heads to so much gore and shrapnel. What was one more life lost? Nothing. The last few shamblers were dispatched, and just as we got to that last door, it opened, Burns making sure everyone was through before he threw it shut with a clang of finality.

  Keeling over and panting from exertion that barely registered, I needed a few seconds for my thoughts to catch up with me. I tore the mask off, greedily inhaling the fresh air in the small anteroom. Hamilton and Richards were there, both armed to the teeth, all the spare magazines reloaded and at hand next to them. They’d been ready to wade back out there and help, should the plan with the bait not work, I realized. So they had been in on it.

  And not just on the exit strategy, I realized, when I saw that Richards couldn’t even look at me, let alone into my eyes.

  Of course they had been in on it. History repeating itself was one thing, but I shouldn’t have bought it, not as easily as that. There was only one explanation—either before we’d ventured into the hot lab, or just after, Nate must have realized that we weren’t all going to make it back out alive. I hadn’t taken my com with me into the lab, but I hadn’t really paid any attention to what Bucky did beyond getting him into his suit; I’d spent minutes at a time digging through boxes of samples while he’d been standing half a room away, doing… what exactly had he been doing? Keeping up with what was going on out there? Hashing out a plan how to get as many people out alive as possible? As much as I hated that very thought, I could see how it all made sense to Nate—he was a leader who’d always chosen to lead from the front. He’d do anything to make sure that I survived, including laying down his life for me. And he’d spent that endless cycle in the decontamination shower once already, knowing exactly how long it took—how many minutes that would keep me back so they could clear the way, see if there was an alternative, and failing that, set their plan in action. Nate had trusted me to keep myself alive, given even odds. It was only the overwhelming ones that I was helpless against.