Nate helped me stand up once more, and when Raynor still had that pinched look on her face, I pushed down my underwear and peeled off the thermal, tank top, and sports bra underneath. What had started out as a bruise on my left thigh was by far the worst that I could see, but the clucking sound that Raynor made as she had me turn around to look at my back made me guess she wasn’t just admiring my tats. A gentle prod in the general area of my right kidney had me whimpering with pain, even though I had been bracing myself. It didn’t get much better when she stuck a good twenty needles into me at various points of my body. At least that served for distraction; by the time she pointed at a neatly folded stack of blue scrubs with white booties for me to put on, I truly didn’t give a shit who saw my naked, rotting ass anymore.
“We will need about an hour to complete preparations,” Raynor prattled on while watching me take forever to don the scrubs. “When was your last solid bowel movement? No need to stress your body with an enema if you’ve run empty already.”
I absolutely didn’t remember, same as when I’d last managed to keep any solid—or even mashed-up—food down. Raynor frowned for a moment as if suddenly the fact that I was still standing puzzled her, but she quickly shook herself out of that. Walking over to a fridge by the side of the desk, she returned with a transfusion bag filled with clear liquid. She had the needle in my elbow vein within a second, and told Nate to hold the bag up at about the level of my head while she taped the needle down. “We don’t want you to fall into a coma from dehydration now that you’ve finally made it here,” she explained, her tone turning dismissive as she started jotting down things on her notepad. Continuing to no one in particular, she said, “Set them up in observation room five.” Her gaze briefly flicked up to the pack Red was still carrying over his shoulder. “I presume her notes are in there? You can leave them on my desk.”
It was surprisingly easy to ignore Hamilton’s infantile “teehee, I’ve seen you nekkid!” grin—that he only donned once he’d marched us out of the room and beyond where Raynor could still have seen it—but I didn’t miss that Red was considering me with something bordering on, if not admiration, at least honest consideration. I couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that he wasn’t just a grunt who’d miraculously risen through the ranks—but then, who of them was? That just cemented my conviction that he wouldn’t underestimate me—and that made him a lot more dangerous than the likes of Hamilton would ever get. But right now, I had more pressing issues on my mind.
Chapter 22
The observation room turned out to be the spartan quarters behind one of the glass panels. Everything was made of sturdy-looking steel—the table and two chairs, all bolted to the floor, plus a toilet in the back corner—except for the thin mattress deposited directly on the ground. Considering what I was used to, it was positively homey.
I barely noticed any of it as I trudged into the cell, Nate right beside me. I’d expected someone to at least verbally abuse us, but they sorely disappointed me. It might have been a welcome distraction. As it was, I felt positively numb—or at least tried to hold on to that state of mind with everything I had, because the alternative was not an option.
The chairs didn’t look very welcoming, and with me barely able to keep standing upright, I sat down on the mattress with my back against the wall. Nate lingered by the glass—spanning the entire wall of our accommodations—until the soldiers had disappeared from sight before he joined me. I’d seldom seen his body language so utterly neutral, but he didn’t quite manage to keep the dejection and frustration out of his eyes.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them, also so I wasn’t tempted to stare at my hands. It was bad enough that I was incapable of not focusing on how my right hand in particular felt, that strange, downright alien sensation radiating from the parts that my brain told me I couldn’t possibly feel anything from anymore.
“Well, guess that seals it. I’m never going to be working in a lab again,” I muttered, not sure why I even felt the need to talk.
Nate had to visibly tear his gaze away from my hands, but then kept his eyes trained on my face only. “Why didn’t you tell me that it got worse so rapidly?” And before I could answer, “How much pain are you in right now?”
I shrugged, keeping the motion small not to needlessly pull on the muscles in my torso that felt decidedly like someone had worked me over with a baseball bat. “I thought me keeling over, unconscious, was answer enough.” The second half of my reply needed some deliberation, and I couldn’t help but raise my left hand so I could see it. “That hurts God awfully, but the rest is mostly numb now.” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to go on. “It was bad before, but I think the nerve damage from the virus put a damper on most of it. Didn’t know my thigh had progressed that far, but then I don’t feel anything there, so close to the scar tissue. Gotta take my blessings where I get them, right?”
My hands balled into fists without my doing, the left hampered by the continuing swelling of the index finger, the fact that I couldn’t close the right even more prominent than before. A sound left my chest that was too close to a keen. I forced myself to cut it off and wiped my mind of any rational thought, but both were easier said than done.
I hadn’t realized I’d screwed my eyes shut until I felt Nate’s fingers wrap around my right hand, pulling my fingers from their death grip on the scrubs. His grip was soft, warm, yet sure, just as if he wasn’t holding a disgusting slab of rotting meat in his hand. Intensity was blazing from his eyes, the conviction in them making it impossible for me to look away. “We’ll get through this,” he said, not the slightest wavering in his voice. He was stating facts, not wishful thinking, as far as he was concerned. “You weren’t planning on getting stuck down here, anyway, right?”
In spite of myself, I burst out laughing, shaking my head when he offered me a somewhat strained smile. “Not really.”
“See? That’s settled then. One less thing to give a fuck about.”
Exhaling slowly, I squeezed his hand but then extracted mine to put it on my knee as I leaned back against the wall, trying to get more comfortable. “Don’t be quite so happy that I’ll have to descend to share your useful, blunt instrument status. I’m still smarter than you.”
Nate let a scoff be his only answer, but he eased himself back into a position mirroring mine. His eyes finally left my face to roam over the room, but there really wasn’t anything to draw his interest in sight. Mine, either, which was a bad thing, as the moment my nerves eased up, my mind jumped into overdrive, giving me what felt like an increasingly more accurate mental picture of my future. Not an option, so talking it was.
“Care to finally tell me what happened between you and Bucky?” I asked, drawing Nate’s attention back to me. “I get the feeling that, unless I bite it on that operating table, I’m going to be treated to some repercussions from that sooner or later. At the very least I deserve to know why that asshole still has it out for you. None of the others showed anything close to that, not even that Aimes guy when he and his buddies gave us more intel on the Colorado base. I expected some animosity from them, but they’re almost treating you like you’re invisible.”
Nate didn’t look particularly happy about my question, but indulged me. “You don’t quit the program. The only way you get out is when you die, even those that were allowed to quit, or discharged because, like Rita, they weren’t fit for duty any longer. We’re all dead men walking. When you’re out, you’re dead, and you don’t acknowledge your dead when they walk next to you.” He chuckled softly, not missing the irony in his words. “I honestly expected them to give me more shit, but we’ve only been here for, what? Half an hour? I have no clue who’s in charge of this installation, but Raynor seems to be running a tight ship in the medical division. I wouldn’t put it past her that should someone screw with you, she’ll volunteer them next time she needs a guinea pig for something.” I got the sense that was an accurate assessment, not wild guesswork
. No need to point that out, though. I was already freaked out enough as it was.
Nate’s gaze flitted back to the glass panel as if he was subconsciously seeking out the man he was talking about. “I can’t really explain it,” he started with, scrunching up his face. “I can take a good guess, but most of that is retroactive speculation.”
“Why not start at the beginning? That’s usually what people do,” I suggested.
He snorted. “Guess that’s as good a point as any. We met in basic training. Hit it off, right from the start. Because we were both cocky bastards who knew they were better than this, they made sure to prove us otherwise. I can’t remember how many thousands of pushups and extra miles we earned just in the first few weeks. Toughing that out together creates bonds easier than anything else. Once we finally had some leave, we hit the bars together as well. I never much cared for drinking myself into a stupor, but didn’t mind the chick magnet potential we had going on at the bars just outside the base. A lot of the girls who hit those bars do so rather single-mindedly, and there were more than enough to go around so it never was a problem.”
Contrary to his light tone, his expression was far from happy. He went on before I could ask.
“We served together for a while, but then our paths diverged. I was never happy with being the lowest rung on the ladder so I had to hit the school bench again so someone could sign on a dotted line and let me order others around. I also did sniper school and did a tour with ordnance, where I met Burns. My long-term goal was always to remain out in the field and get to kill the bad guys until one of them was faster—or just more lucky—than me. Bucky? Well, he’s one of those that prefer shortcuts rather than doing the work. Didn’t help him much, because we ended up in the program at the exact same time—me, because I’d had a couple of superiors who recognized my killing machine potential. Him, because he’d been held back for three rounds because they fast-tracked people like me. He always downplayed it, but it must have rankled.” This time, his smile was real, and while ironic, also strangely fond.
“He didn’t hold it against me, or so I thought at the time. It was as if the years we’d spent apart doing our thing respectively hadn’t happened. The night before they finalized the deal, we were out on the town one last time, and it was just like old times. Don’t lecture me on how smart it is to show up to get a potentially lethal injection nursing the hangover of your life, but at least I was too numb to second-guess my decision.”
“Would you have, otherwise?”
My question forced him to consider for a while, but Nate eventually shook his head. “Never. It was all I’d ever wanted, with the benefit of giving me an edge no one else would have. Unlike some of the others, I was fully aware of the ramifications and consequences, but I never wavered. It was the next logical step, so I took it.” The enthusiasm in his tone dulled as he went on. “Our batch was a good one, or so they told us later. We had a slightly higher conversion rate than usual. Meant that only four out of ten bit it. The first thing I remember when I woke up was being glad that I wasn’t one of them. But then I realized that the clamoring sound that was giving me a monster of a headache wasn’t the aftershocks of our late-night bender, but the screaming from the guy chained to the bed next to mine, who hadn’t been quite so lucky.” A muscle jumped in his cheek. “He’d been part of the same group I’d hung with for the past year. I even was along for his sister’s wedding, which we used for an excuse to get some free booze and extra attention from the bridesmaids who were green with envy over the bride and didn’t mind getting their hideous dresses dirty. And now he was a mindless animal, tearing off its own wrist to get out of the bonds. They used those heavily padded restraints like they do in the mental institutions, but someone must not have done the quality check well enough. He got out and was on the next guy over who was still out cold.”
Now the twist that came to his mouth was wry.
“I knew I had to do something, and screaming for help wasn’t going to cut it. They soundproofed the ward for a reason. For anyone else, I might have waited for someone to storm in and shoot the poor fucker, but the guy whose face he was about to chew off was none other than my bud Hamilton, so I couldn’t very well let that happen. The restraints were good enough to hold the usual reject, but I managed to wrench the frame of the bed free, and then used that to beat the would-be cannibal to a bloody pulp with it. Hamilton woke up halfway through that, just in time to realize that the only reason why he’s still alive today was me. I didn’t think anything of it as I would have done the same for anyone else, too, but it soured things between us. I spent another week in the infirmary, nursing the injuries I’d mostly inflicted on myself, but the moment I was out, they promoted me to captain of what remained of our bunch. They lauded my initiative and will to self-sacrifice, but all Hamilton saw was me one-upping him once again.” Nate snorted. “And the nickname didn’t help, I guess.”
I raised my brows at that. “What nickname?”
“Would have figured your geek cred was stronger,” Nate jeered slightly.
It took me a few more seconds to figure it out, but mostly because I’d never considered how Bucky might have gotten his nickname; Nate and his people had always referred to him that way.
“Wait, seriously? Just because you were now super soldiers, and you’re blond, and the promotion, and he’s the eternal sidekick? Don’t tell me anyone ever called you Steve.”
Nate shook his head, laughing. “It didn’t stick with me, mostly because I shrugged it off. They got me a T-shirt, and that was all. But Hamilton went ballistic, so of course no one would let him forget. It got really bad by the time we got fresh blood. That’s when Burns and Bates joined in. You know Burns. He spent fifteen minutes howling with laughter when someone finally explained. To him, it was all in good jest, but so many of the others were all too happy to keep the ball rolling. When Rita joined us from another unit to take over Charlie team, they were quick to slap ‘Peggy’ on her. She didn’t really mind as we were screwing around at the time, but it was just one more rusty nail in the coffin of Hamilton’s dignity. Never mind that his Bravo team usually outperformed Alpha, or that neither I nor any of the guys gave a shit. I didn’t take his grumbling seriously. None of us did.”
This story was getting better and better.
“Did you at least call yourselves the Howling Commandos?”
Nate snorted briefly. “Sure did. I can’t believe Burns never told you.”
“Not the only thing he left out,” I complained. “Alpha team. So you were practically the leader of the A-Team.” I didn’t try to keep my grin from spreading across my face as I caught his scowl. “I’d always figured you more as a Murdock than a Hannibal.”
“Are you done yet?”
I shook my head, still chortling with amusement. “At least that explains why when I was out in Sioux Falls, the guys brought so many superhero T-shirts back for me. I figured they were easier to find as far as nerdy shirts went, but I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
Nate answered that with a shrug. “If you asked Burns or Martinez, I’m sure they’d say that your ability to still stand me is your own special superpower.”
“It sure is,” I agreed before bringing the conversation back on track. “So he was mad at you all because you were a bunch of infantile imbeciles. Why am I not surprised? Still doesn’t explain why you went from good friends to whatever the fuck you are now.”
“That’s the part I don’t have a better answer for.” The frustration in his voice increased. “My guess is that all that was enough to sour our friendship, but war has a way of keeping everyone rooting for each other. I think it got worse when my brother got involved and started to loudly advocate for the powers that be to let him find a cure for the side effects of the serum. I don’t know much about Hamilton’s family, but the few times he got wounded badly enough to end up in a hospital Stateside, he never got any visitors. I had Raleigh and our mother. As much as I didn’t care for getting chewed
out by my brother in front of everyone else, it was plain as day that they both cared. Bates once opened one of the very few letters that Hamilton got and read it out loud in front of everyone. It was from his sister, telling him how disappointed she was and that the family considered him dead to them. I tore Bates a new one for that, but the damage was done. Of course it’s stupid to be so fucking petty, but on some level, I get it. Try as he might, I always ended up being top dog, whether I tried to one-up him or not. I got the rank, the girl, the family support, and even the men and women we commanded looked up to me while they tolerated him. One of the reasons why I decided to go through with my plan to get them to discharge me was because I knew I had a good chance that they’d let me get away with it; they would have court-martialed him, no question.”
That part still confused me. “But in many ways, you dropping out took away the competition. You’re out, and he must be pretty close to the top of the ladder on the executive branch of whatever this thing here is, considering that he always gets in our way. And we made a point of being a nuisance to them with rallying the scavengers. They didn’t just send him because they knew there’d be a chance you’d both annoy each other to death.”
Nate didn’t protest my point. “I’m sure he volunteered for that mission, same as with the factory, but you’re right. In both cases—and back when they tried to evacuate the building you were working in before the shit hit the fan—they had a reason to select one of their best. The only explanation that I have is that over the years he’s gotten so bitter that he can’t realize that he has already won everything there is to win—not that I have an ounce of interest in making it a competition. Not then, not now. He’s a petty asshole and I lost all respect I ever had for him when he deliberately let good people die when he crossed my plans to get out. Nothing he’ll ever do will change that, not that I think he gives a flying fuck about it. He’s so far past the finish line that he just doesn’t know how to end it.”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 30
