Green Fields: Incubation

by Adrienne Lecter

  I certainly felt like an animal right now. A betrayed, beaten animal with nothing left to do but curl up in a corner and wait for the inevitable. What that might be, I didn't want to imagine, but I had a pretty good idea from what direction danger would come. Ever since he'd had me thrown back into the cube, some of Nate's polished veneer had come off. Over the last hour I'd watched him pace up and down in front of the cube, and he didn't try to hide the way he kept staring at me.

  I had something that he wanted—experience of working in a hot lab for years was my guess—and very soon he was going to run out of patience and do something more drastic than ask to get it.

  I think if it had only been that, I might have caught some sleep, but while he'd morphed into the restless animal on the other side of the bars, I was still locked in with the rabid one.

  Greene's reaction had been about as telling as my own. No one seemed to doubt that I hadn't had a clue what Project Destiny was about, while he'd managed to talk himself into more and more trouble as he attempted to do damage control. Nate had listened to him ramble with a stony face, then had pretty much lost it at “but they were all just hobos and drug addicts, anyway.” I'd looked away, but the sounds his fist had made as it landed on Greene's face and torso would likely follow me into my nightmares for years. That reaction had definitely been personal, no question. Greene's self-preservation had kicked in then and he'd pretty much folded instead of playing the tough guy, which made him a potential time bomb at my back now. He'd been all moans and whines since then, letting others dote on him, but when he'd been sure that everyone else was asleep, he'd shown surprising alacrity of movement as he'd tangoed with the bucket.

  I figured my main problem wasn't who I thought was more ready to do me harm, but it was simply a matter of who would get to me first.

  So I spent an endless night huddled in my corner, afraid and sorry for myself, while acid kept churning in the broiling pit of my stomach.

  Eventually, I must have dozed off despite everything else, because it took me a moment to remember where I was when I startled awake again. While my mind was still sluggishly evading touching down on any of the glaring subjects, the primitive part of my brain was suddenly wide awake. Something was going on, and it wasn't going to be good. Maybe some long neglected part of my senses picked up sound or motion, or I just had an overactive imagination, but I had a single moment of clarity in which I knew that the shit was about to hit the fan, and it was going to hit hard.

  Then a large hand clamped down over my mouth and nose, stifling any noise I might have made. My mind screamed at me to fight, but I was frozen, unable to react even when I felt warm breath ghost over the side of my neck before Greene cooed into my ear.

  “I am so going to enjoy this, but I doubt that the feeling will be mutual.”

  Then he yanked me back with surprising strength and I toppled over, the back of my skull smashing against the floor hard enough to make me see stars. The impact was somewhat muffled by my hair, barely making a sound, but pain exploded through my head and stunned me for another second. That was all Greene needed to wrap his hands around my throat and squeeze. Hard.

  Fear sent my heart galloping, but Greene was quick to straddle me, putting his entire weight into crushing my trachea—or simply waiting until I’d suffocate. My fingers instinctively went to my neck, trying to pry his off, but even sinking my nails into them didn’t yield any results. They were simply too short—kept that way because I worked with latex gloves on every day—to be used as weapons. With my lungs already burning, panic kicked into overdrive and I went for the only target I could reach—Greene’s face.

  He tried to jerk his head away as my nails raked his cheek, lessening the pressure on my throat, but not enough to let me gulp for breath. My arms were a little too short to go for his eyes, so I hooked my fingers into the corner of his mouth and jerked as hard as I could. That didn’t lessen his grip, either, but he shifted his weight farther off my body as he leaned away. My field of vision was narrowing already and I started feeling light-headed—not a good sign. I tried punching him in the face next, but lying on the floor like that, I just couldn’t get a good swing in.

  I needed a better solution—any solution, really!—and just flailing around wasn’t going to get me very far. Yet trying to order my thoughts and come up with something got increasingly more impossible as the seconds ticked on.

  What is most vulnerable about the human body? Eyes and face I had already ruled out, and there was no way that I’d get to his throat. Pretty much the only part of his body that was close enough for me to reach were his arms as he used the advantage in reach he had over me perfectly.

  Arms… arms… joints!

  The moment my increasingly more sluggish brain caught on to that, I grabbed Greene’s elbows and started digging my thumbs in, trying to close my hands into fists right through flesh and bones between them. He didn’t let go immediately, but I heard him wince over the all-consuming whooshing sound of my pulse racing in my ears.

  Something gave under my right thumb, making Greene curse under his breath, and the pressure on my throat lessened. Realizing that this was my last chance, I threw my entire body into that side, making me roll over partially underneath him, which dislodged his weight on me. I felt him fight for balance, then shift, just as I managed to pull my left knee up, wedging it between my body and his thigh. My lungs were burning so painfully that they drowned out the agony that was splitting my head, but I forced myself to keep digging with my fingers, right as I shoved my knee upward.

  Greene’s hold slipped, and for a split second I managed to pull air into my lungs. It hurt like hell but was the sweetest breath I’d ever taken. Triumph blazed through me, but it was short-lived as he only let go to pry my right hand off his elbow—and punched me in the face hard enough that I blacked out for a moment. Pain blossomed all over my nose and I felt hot blood run down the back of my throat, making me splutter when it came into my airways with my next ragged inhale.

  That probably saved my life, as my body was wracked with a series of coughs so hard that Greene didn’t manage to tighten his hands around my throat again. I ended up on my side, my body protecting my more vulnerable front momentarily—at least until Greene grabbed the back of my head and smashed it face-first into the floor.

  A bright starburst of agony bloomed all over the right side of my face where it connected with the hard marble, my jaw and cheekbone taking the brunt. Precious air rushed out of my lungs and I tried to draw another breath, but it hurt so fucking much that my chest simply wouldn't expand. My brain was screaming at me to roll into a ball and protect my face with my hands, but instead I pulled my legs to my chest, kicking out as soon as I felt tension in my thighs. It was probably only luck that made me hit something, but at least I got a grunt out of him. He tried shoving my face into the cool marble again, but this time I managed to cushion the blow with my arm pulled underneath me, which ended up giving me enough leverage to throw myself onto my other side and finally dislodge him from above me.

  Our struggle couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but I felt ready to keel over and die right there. Casting around frantically, I tried to find something to use as a weapon, but Nate and his posse had been rather efficient in divesting us of that. Then my eyes latched on to the bucket, and as soon as random information condensed to thought, I threw my body in that direction, going for a mix between rolling and twisting forward.

  I was almost close enough to reach it with my extended hand when strong fingers grabbed my shoulder and heaved me onto my back again as Greene tried to go with what had worked the best so far—strangling me. I had only a moment to decide what to do—try to fend him off, or go for the bucket. Instinct screamed at me to protect my throat, but I forced myself to not even hunch my shoulders, but do everything to stretch just that little bit farther and wrap my fingers around the plastic brim just as Greene’s closed around my throat.

  I didn’t even think, I just reac
ted—grabbing the bucket so I could hurl it up and smash it against the side of Greene’s head and torso, wherever I’d hit.

  A deluge of cold liquid came down on us both, and if I’d had enough processing power left to think, I might have been glad that I couldn’t breathe right now and was consequently spared the foul smell—but really, I didn’t care. The pressure around my throat was suddenly gone and the weight above me lessened, making me kick and flail at whatever I could reach, then scramble back as soon as my legs were free. My back hit the glass wall hard, strong enough that I could feel the vibrations it caused throughout my entire body. Gasping for breath, I used the solid wall at my back to push myself up onto my legs, trying to ignore what was soaking my hair and shirt through and through.

  Greene came at me before I was fully standing, but this time I was better prepared. His body collided with mine just as my knee went up, hitting him right in the junk. I knew it was a hit because he went still just as he barreled into me, giving me just enough time to grab my left fist with my right hand and bash them forward, hitting the middle of his face with what strength I had left. The knee probably did more damage, but as that had made him hunch over, the force of my blow made him stagger back, and he went down when I aimed a last, hard kick against the front of his left kneecap.

  Supporting myself against the wall, I gulped another lungful of air, ready for the next round, but Greene stayed down, one hand clutching his balls, the other digging into his knee. And because I was not going to give him another chance, I slammed my foot into his side hard enough to hurt my ankle, making him moan out and roll over protectively.

  The lights came on, the blaze momentarily blinding me, making me stagger back against the glass wall instinctively. Raising one arm to my face, I tried to shield my eyes, barely able to make out the hunched figures sitting against the other walls of the cube, huddled together to give us all the space we needed. My fellow hostages, none of whom had raised hand nor voice to help me defend myself. Disgust so thick that it made me taste bile welled up inside of me, but I did my best to swallow it down as the telltale drum of boots on the stone floors put a definite end to this charade of a fight. I sagged back against the wall, and suddenly, just drawing breath and remaining on my feet demanded strength that was quickly leaking out of my body.

  A sharp, female voice was issuing commands, then the Ice Queen stepped into my hazy field of vision. Her presence didn't exactly calm me, but right then no one was touching me, and I felt somewhat less vulnerable in the corner they'd backed me into. Her normally hard, cold eyes held a look I hadn't seen in them yet, one that surprised me. I'd expected sympathy, or worse yet, pity, but after a few moments I recognized it as appreciation.

  She held my gaze a moment longer, and whatever she must have seen on my face made her give a curt nod. Then she raised her arm to her shoulder and curled her fingers over her thumb, but the motion was so slow that my frayed mind didn't even perceive it as a threat.

  “Next time you throw a punch, do it like this. And put your entire body weight into it—you don't have the strength yet to do damage otherwise. No uncontrolled swings. You only do damage with controlled punches and good aim.”

  I continued to stare at her wide-eyed before my brain unfroze and I managed a jerky nod. She gave me a pleased smile that was the greatest show of emotion that I'd seen from her yet, then turned around so that she was facing the room. I noticed that she had positioned herself so that she was partly blocking my way out of the corner, but, if anything, it made me feel protected. The day the presence of what I presumed was a former KGB agent or similar could kindle that warmth inside my chest was not something I wanted to relive.

  And I wasn't deluding myself that it would get much better from here on out. Then again, it could hardly get worse.

  With adrenaline slowly leaking out of my blood, I was able to do a brief damage assessment. Breathing still hurt and was harder than that one time I’d had a terribly sore throat after a strep infection; even without checking with my fingers, I could tell that the side of my face was swelling, and the back of my head felt like one pulsing, open wound to me. But I was alive, and breathing, so it could have been worse.

  In the meantime, at least ten mercenaries had crowded into the room, not counting the Ice Queen. All had their weapons drawn but not pointed at anyone in particular, yet the way they had positioned themselves in a loose circle around Greene forced the other hostages to plaster themselves against the walls of the cube unless they wanted a boot heel in the face.

  Nate was standing just inside the door of the cube, a look of disgust on his face. He glanced over the Ice Queen's shoulder at me, holding my gaze with an actual, faint smile on his face. With my head pounding like mad, it was hard to think, but I forced myself not to look away, my jaw flaming up with pain as I gnashed my teeth. Then I pushed away from my corner and stepped up to him, the Ice Queen keeping her distance now.

  “I think I’m ready to talk now,” I croaked out, the few words hurting so much that I almost didn’t finish.

  “Good,” was all Nate said as he turned around, gesturing for me to lead the way. I walked out of the cube without looking back—neither at Greene, nor at the others. They had clearly made their choice—now it was time for me to make mine.

  Chapter 15

  We didn't go far, only to the side of the atrium that led from the glass cathedral into the warren of labs, where Nate pushed me through the first door on the left. It was the women's changing room, but that didn't deter him one bit as he put a hand between my shoulder blades and gave me a decisive nudge toward the door at the other end that led to the showers.

  I stumbled but didn't protest, at least not until I was standing on the tiled floor in front of the community showers and he came in after me.

  “Uh, a little privacy maybe?” I asked, or tried to. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, and every sound that I made came out husky and deep.

  He gave me a wide yet humorless grin as he leaned against the tiled wall next to the door.

  “Now you get self-conscious because of a little nudity? Nothing I haven’t seen before.” I opened my mouth to protest while inadvertently hugging myself harder, but he didn't let me speak. “Besides, you're smelling like a public toilet that no one has cleaned for months, and you have so much fecal-matter-stained urine in your hair that it completely obscures the charming red color modern day chemistry lent it. My brain might be wired a little differently than most people's, but not that differently.”

  Normally, his words might have made me self-conscious for real, but Greene had pretty much beaten that right out of me. Setting my jaw stubbornly—softly—I turned around and started shrugging out of my clothes. I could feel his gaze on my back, a sensation that should have felt like nails scraping over a chalkboard but was everything but, yet I did my best to ignore it. He obviously wasn't going to leave, and with the battles I figured I still had ahead of me, this one seemed like the least important to fight.

  I still hugged myself with one arm as I turned on the shower. The water was cold at first, but quickly heated up. I stepped under the spray and just stood there, letting the water do the ground work before I got down to business.

  It must have taken me the better part of twenty minutes to clean myself as properly as my shaking, aching hands would let me. The industrial-strength soap from the dispensers would do terrible things to my hair, but considering the state it was already in, I couldn't find it in me to care.

  As the suds were washed off my body, I felt my mind slowly grind into gear. Now that the last of the fright from my fight had dwindled, it was a deeper-seated kind of terror that made breathing even harder than it already was. I could have died in there. That Greene had only tried to strangle me without raping me first was no consolation whatsoever. I really hadn’t thought him capable of that. All I really wanted to do was wrap my arms around my knees and rock back and forth, crying softly to myself. Catching the occasional look from Nate wh
ere he still leaned against the wall helped. Not because his presence made me feel comforted or safe, but what little dignity was still intact deep down inside of me wouldn't let me lose it in front of him.

  When I couldn't stand to stay under the spray of water any longer, I shut it off, then turned to face Nate. He held out a white, not exactly fluffy towel to me, and I took it without a word of thanks. His lip curled a little as if he noticed the omission and found it somehow cute. He probably did. Who could tell with someone like him?

  The towel wasn't large enough to wrap myself in once I had patted myself as dry as I was going to get, presenting me with a new dilemma. I could try to hold it over the front of my body and cover what modesty dictated me to, or not bother and maybe spare myself the ridicule I was going to get for my troubles.

  I dropped the towel, making it end up like a weird kind of demarcation line between us.

  I wasn't surprised that he completely ignored it as he stepped up to me, and I drew in a sharp breath when he raised one hand to my cheek, his eyes intent on my face. What might have looked like a tender gesture was far from it, I realized, when he prodded first my cheekbone, then my temple, nose, and jaw. I'd dimly been aware of the discomfort and early swelling, but the moment he touched me, pain flared up, making me wince whenever pressure was applied.

  “I don't think you need stitches, but I should patch you up,” he remarked, taking a step back and glancing down my glaringly naked body. “Raise your arms.”

  I really didn't want to—and not just because I was stark naked, right in front of him. His gaze zoomed back up to catch mine, and now it was real laughter that I saw dancing in his eyes.

  “How many times do I have to tell you this? I'm not going to throw you down on the floor and have my wicked way with you. Right now I wouldn't even do it if you begged me to. You have scrapes and bruises all over your ribs and hips. You're the biologist. You tell me how well soap cleans bacteria from open wounds.”