by Angel Lawson
No one argues. No one says anything. Davis follows his command.
The rest of us climb into the trucks, our bodies tired and weary, and head to the farm.
At the house Jane and Jude wait on the porch, shocked to see our caravan. I hop off the truck and pull them to the side. They are both exhausted from the fight and the turmoil our bodies have gone through with the rapid change from human to Mutt back to human. I feel my feet dragging but I know we’re near the end, and it’s enough to keep me going.
“Keep your head low,” I whisper. “I’m not sure what’s going on but—”
“There’s a dining room table inside,” Jane says, pointing to the door. I roll my eyes for her cutting me off but absorb the exchange Hamilton has with Walker. He knows who my sister is and what she’s done.
The two men go inside, leaving the rest of us on the porch. Wyatt collapses in a wooden slat rocking chair, sighing heavily. Jackson and Walker stand close to the window. Paul, Benjamin, and Cole hover at the edge of the porch. Cole looks strangely in place amongst our rag-tag team, as though he never abandoned us.
It’s been so long since we’ve been together—they missed the attack on the farmhouse all those months ago. They didn’t know I’d been kidnapped with Jane and the Mennonites. They didn’t know we thought Wyatt was dead or the Fight Club Cole and I endured.
And we have no idea what they’ve been up to at all except showing up with a powerful force we had no idea existed.
Hamilton never gave us his rank, but he carries himself with an air of dignity and power. I move closer to Walker and watch him through the window. He’s African-American, tall with broad shoulders. His thick but trimmed beard implies he’s had access to housing and good conditions. I notice his nails are filed and clean.
“We have so much to catch up on,” I say. “Things got really crazy right after you left.”
“I’m aware of some of it. Our intelligence is superior to anything we’ve had since the virus spread. But yeah, I’d love to hear your side of the story.”
“I can’t wait to find out where you’ve been for the last six months and how you found this guy.”
She grins but it’s weak and there’s something wary in her eyes. “Is everything okay?”
Wyatt’s chair creaks as he shifts to get a better view of the two of us. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s picked up on the weird vibe.
Her voice lowers and although I’m sure we are the only ones that can hear her, I know three others on this porch have super-hearing.
“Hamilton is a smart man. A Colonel in the Army. Lower-ranking than Erwin, with a history in bio-weapons, pre-virus. Thankfully, he’s smart and determined to get this country back on its feet.”
“Well that’s sounds awesome, right?”
“Sure.” Her eyes dart at the Mutts standing to the side. “If you’re human and meet the criteria he’s established. Hamilton wants every Eater, Hybrid, Mutt and any other variation rounded up and terminated.”
It sounds rational but it’s not. These are people we know. Hell, I may fall into the ’other variation” ‘category myself after taking the EVI-3.
“The Hybrids are dangerous, yes, but the Mutts, well, that’s not so easy,” Wyatt says. I’m surprised he’s coming to their defense. “Without the Mutts we can’t take down the Hybrids. We’ve tried and failed. We only made a dent today because of them and even then it was a massacre.”
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “You know it’s time for this to end, Wyatt. We’ve fought for this since the beginning.”
His eyes connect with mine and I see the guilt behind them for spreading this virus in the first place. It’s his boulder. The one thing he can’t fix. Except maybe now he can? Maybe this is the solution he’s been looking for.
“Wyatt.” It comes out a stronger warning than I intended.
Walker continues speaking low and quick. “He’s telling Erwin right now where he stands and that he wants the Ramsey’s to destroy the vaccinations and start clean. No mutations. No manipulations. Just a vaccine that protects us from the E-TR virus.”
I shake my head. “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone. So much.”
The tone of her voice and the hard edges of her eyes make me know better than to reveal that we took the EVI-3 injection. I can still feel the lingering results. But that injection saved my life. It saved all of our lives.
“Hamilton has a strong vision for the future. A good future. Clean and safe,” Walker says. “He has resources, weapons, food, and supplies. He’s what left of the actual government. He can help us get back on track and we can be a part of it, as long as we follow his plan.”
I glance uneasily at the two men in the house. They look casual. Like they’re having a normal conversation, but there’s a vibe rolling off the room. I don’t know if everyone feels it or if it’s the spidey-sense that comes along with the injection. I take a breath and say, “That’s not going to work. You do realize that Erwin is a Mutt, right?”
Immediately her expression and demeanor changes. She curses and says, “I knew something was different.”
She pushes past me. Benjamin, who’s closest to the door, runs in after her. I haven’t moved, instead watching frozen in my spot through the wide picture window as Hamilton leans back, the metal of a gun in his hands. Erwin lunges across the table, reflexes like a cat. But Green dives between them just as the gun fires.
He lands with a thud, taking the table down, under his weight. A second shot fires and it goes straight through the center of Erwin’s forehead.
I look back at Paul and Cole. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”
I rush into the room, two steps behind Wyatt but it’s too late. Erwin and Green are both dead. Their lifeless bodies are in the middle of the room. The rest of us have our weapons are drawn. Jackson, Walker, me, and Wyatt. We’re caught in standoff, friend against friend.
Hamilton rubs the tip of the barrel against his sleeve. “It was my understanding you and General Erwin had a challenging relationship, Alexandra.”
“Why did you do that?” I ask, trying not to look at the bodies of my two dead allies on the floor. It’s impossible and I swallow back nausea at the blood pooling beneath Green. “Erwin’s done nothing but fight against the Hybrids and for this country for years.”
“He’s an abomination, as all of the mutants are. We simply cannot become a whole society again until each and every one is eliminated.”
“That’s impossible. The Hybrids ran tonight. There were hundreds left. The Mutts, too. When they hear Erwin is gone they’ll run,” Wyatt says. “The Mutts are a useful asset.”
Hamilton raises an eye at Wyatt. “I’m surprised to hear such talk from you, Sergeant Faraday. You’re known for being such a patriot.”
“This has nothing to do about patriotism.”
The Colonel laughs, flashing his white teeth. “Oh, you’re wrong about that.” He leans forward. “Let me make this clear. The Hybrid wars are over. We’re reestablishing society, one I’m hoping you’ll be a part of.”
“Have you been out there?” I ask, still reeling from the murders. My voice cracks when I speak. “The whole country, particularly the South, is falling apart. There’s not enough vaccine to go around. The Eaters are not under control—the best ones to keep them under control are the Mutts. Don’t you understand that?”
“What I understand is that there’s no gray area here. It’s black and white. Human or not. Only one can survive.” What he says rings true, but at the same time I see one friend and one ally dead in the middle of the room and it’s not okay. Hamilton must sense my hesitation. “Change is difficult but you’ve proven yourself a useful asset, and your references,” he nods at Walker and Jackson, “are impeccable. I’m willing to give you a chance. All of you.”
“What do you want us to do?” Wyatt asks.
Hamilton smiles knowingly at him. “Accept the invitation to join my new world order. I think I have the perf
ect job for everyone, specifically you two.”
I fight to keep my face blank. Everyone else in the room is much, much better at it than I am. I ask, “And what exactly is that?”
“I plan on having you and Sergeant Faraday lead the Bounty Hunter Initiative.”
“Bounty hunters?”
“You’ll be in charge of rounding up the Hybrids and Mutts and exterminating them,” Walker says. “Under my command.”
I open my mouth to speak. To tell them to shove their crazy plan where the sun doesn’t shine, but I feel the pressure of a hand on my back from Wyatt and a glint of urgency in Walker’s eyes.
“We’ll do it,” Wyatt says, speaking for the both of us.
“Good choice. We’ll make spots for the rest of the humans on your team. Your sister, father, and anyone else.” He stands and takes a wide step over the bodies. “Walker will hand out assignments and instructions.”
With that, he leaves. Walker follows, saying, “You have five minutes to get yourselves together. I’ll meet you by the truck.”
Jackson is the last to leave the room, his brown eyes hard. I grab his arm and he stops. I ask him outright: “Is this the right thing to do?”
“It’s the only thing,” he says, walking out the door.
Wyatt and I are finally alone. We have five minutes. We haven’t had a conversation in days. Our lives change fast. I spare a glance at the bodies on the floor. So fast.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“We join in and fight from the inside. We’ve done it before.”
“With disastrous results.” I remind him. “What if they find out about what we did today? What I did?”
His jaw tics. “They won’t.”
“But what if they do?”
He brushes my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “Then they have to go through me.”
His words hit me like a punch because in the end it’s all we have—each other. Since the very beginning, Wyatt has had my back. He’s the only man to survive a full-on Hybrid-Mutt war and come out alive. I wrap my arms around him, stealing this one last moment.
Chloe had been right. The battle will never end. The Hybrids won’t stop but neither will the humans. It’s in our nature.
He kisses me; it’s too quick but there’s not enough time. With our hands wrapped together he asks, “You ready?”
I nod. “I’m going to have to be.”
The Girl Who Saved The World
The Death Fields - Book 6
The Girl Who Saved the World
The Death Fields
Book 6
By Angel Lawson
Laughter echoes off the hallways and I hear the clickety-clack of fingers over a keypad. My phone sits snugly in my hand like an old friend. There’s no service, but I can look at my pictures through the screen that got cracked at some point along the way. I mean, I didn’t even remember having a cell phone until someone handed me a cord and said, “Want to use this?”
Cell phones.
Computers.
Electricity.
Laughter.
I look around the room and watch everyone in motion, working as though nothing had happened—or was happening—outside this place. There are still Eaters out there. I know that. There are Hybrids on the run, slipping across the country like scurrying ants. There are Mutts in hiding—trying to figure out their next move. Both of their leaders are gone and no one told them what to do once the battle was over, or what would happen to them with a new person in charge.
“Name?” the man at the desk next to my chair asks. I glance at Wyatt one desk over and his eyes pierce mine. He gives the slightest of nods.
“Alexandra Ramsey.”
“Age?”
“Twenty.”
“Place of origin?”
I hesitate thinking back over the last year-and-a-half. Catlettsburg, Asbury, then Catlettsburg before that. I had a stretch of traveling from Georgia, but also spent time in Tennessee. I think past the Vaccine Center and PharmaCorp and Fort Shaw, all the way back to the beginning, when I met Cole and Wyatt. When I was still with my mother. I blink at the man whose hands wait over the keyboard for my answer.
“Raleigh, North Carolina.”
He types this information into a computer. A computer that hums and has white light. I watch as he scribbles something on a small, blue card with a plastic pen.
“Does that thing have the internet?” I ask, so confused.
“No. We just use it to save information. Fill out forms. What we don’t have is unlimited paper.”
I nod like any of this makes sense. Like it’s relevant to the world outside. “Right.”
“Take this to receive your rations; this includes clothing and food. Follow the arrow on the floor.”
I’m aware of the tremble in my hand when I take the card. Once I step away, Jude’s number is called and he replaces me. The same questions start again.
“Name?”
“Jude Hansen.”
I look up, a little lost, but perk up when I spot Wyatt waiting for me by the exit. There’s a blue-hued arrow painted under his feet.
“You okay?” he asks. I spot a similar card in his hand. “You look a little pale.”
“Yeah, I think it may be the effects wearing off.” I whisper. The EVI-3, which transformed me into a temporary Mutt for the battle between the Hybrids and Mutts, has finally worked its way through my system and I’m feeling it: Extreme fatigue and a slight headache over my temple. “I think I just need some water and a nap.”
Wyatt studies me. I know he’s worried about side effects from the drug. He didn’t want me to take it, but when do I listen? In the end, we both know it was the right decision. There’s little doubt I’d be dead if I hadn’t had a temporary booster shot of the EVI-3, giving me a dose of super-strength to survive that last battle.
Overall, I feel fine. The hyper focus is gone, the extreme strength and heightened senses—all faded. When I challenge his look he sighs and starts down the hallway. The sooner we check in, the faster I can find a place to sleep off the hangover.
At the end of the hall there is a window that overlooks the city below. We’re in Cincinnati, a place that is much bigger and better-functioning than I ever thought would exist again. The building is a government assistance facility, no longer needed for driver’s licenses or social security. It’s perfect for processing in new citizens like us. From what Walker told us coming in the night before, the entire city is 100% Eater-free. They have the power grid up, running water, and a functioning infrastructure. It’s basically the government-approved version of Avi’s Catlettsburg, although much larger and well-equipped. From what she told us, the government had multiple cities prepped for a cataclysmic disaster. Cincinnati is one of them. Well, I say Cincinnati. They no longer call it that. It’s been officially renamed New Hope. I roll my eyes at the name. These people are creating a new world and that was the best they could come up with?
According to Walker, other safe cities, dotted around the country, are in various states of flux. Some are still fighting the Eaters to hold their ground or do not have adequate survivors to maintain the infrastructure as much as they hoped. Although, Walker boasts, few are doing as well as this one.
Wyatt listened to all this with intense interest, the wheels in his head spinning. He has the same look now when he looks out the window at the clean, functional city. “Surreal, isn’t it?”
I touch the glass. “It doesn’t seem real.”
“We probably shouldn’t get used to it. If we’re really being assigned as bounty hunters, I don’t think we’ll get to stay long.”
I watch him watch the city. “Is it weird that I’m okay with that? That I want to go back out?”
“It isn’t weird to me. But I’m not sure I’m the best example of post-crisis mentality.”
I face him. Other than a sanitizing wash-off and temporary clothing in quarantine, we’re fresh off the battlefield. Less than twenty-four hours
before, I’d killed Chloe with a shot to the head. We’d watched Erwin and Green be executed by Colonel Hamilton, the unknown man in charge of this city. I grip Wyatt’s hips and push up on my toes, giving him a peck on the lips.
“You may not be the best example but you’re the best for me,” I tell him.
“You lay it on thick, you know that, right?” He rolls his eyes at my attempt at sweetness. Wyatt is well aware of my inability to be the mushy girlfriend, and I’m well aware that he likes me that way.
Jude and Mary Ellen approach from the processing room. Jane? I haven’t seen her since we arrived but I have little doubt she’s already been put to work.
They clutch cards in their fingers. I take a deep breath and say, “Let’s get this over with,” before taking what I’m quite sure is just another step in the game.
1
The bizarre feeling of normalcy only grows when we’re escorted to a nearby auditorium for orientation. The group we’re in isn’t big—maybe twenty people, of varying ages, all looking as tired and weary as I feel. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through, (the post-crisis world is difficult for anyone), but I doubt they just completed a battle with super-soldiers the day before.
“It’s weird being in a place like this, with electricity and everything,” Mary Ellen says. Her feet bounce on the ground, shaking her knees. I wonder if it’s nerves or side effects.
“Sometimes it feels like whiplash,” Jude says. “There’s no constant. One minute we’re living like cavemen, the next it’s like nothing has changed.”
I agree that it’s definitely hard to process, which may be why I’m itching to get out of here. Unfortunately, I need to learn more about this place and Hamilton, because if I’ve gleaned anything over the last year it is that power corrupts—now more than ever.
A slight woman with pale brown hair and a wide nose walks to the podium. Her lips are painted bright red and I can’t help but notice her dress. It’s not the utilitarian kind that Mary Ellen wore as a byproduct of growing up with the Mennonites. No, it’s made of a silky, black material with dotted flowers. It’s the kind of outfit that you can’t fight in. A relic from a time when fashion was an acceptable consideration. It, more than anything else I’ve seen today, emits a level of luxury I am fully unaccustomed to.
