Beyond Green Fields #4 - The Ballad of Sadie & Bates: A post-apocalyptic anthology

by Adrienne Lecter

  He casts me a sidelong glance as if that’s a stupid question, but dutifully answers it nevertheless. “I presume Nate told you about the serum project, also so you know who will get you out of any situation, however bad it may get? What he likely didn’t elaborate on is what happens when they die.” Again he halts, but this time it’s to be certain that he has my full attention. “Pumpkin, they all turn into zombies. And not just those that we’ve managed to avoid and kill on the way to the bunker, but like the one that got Stella and Mark.”

  My thoughts grind to a halt. “That’s—”

  “Impossible?” he prompts, finishing the sentence for me. “I’m afraid it’s not. You remember the army lieutenant who came to visit us earlier?”

  “Lt. Franks.”

  He inclines his head. “I know you heard him offer the official version. To us, in private, he gave the full explanation. Nobody understands exactly how or why, but the virus that kills people and turns them into undead monsters is the same that has been used in the serum program for decades. And before you start objecting, I’ve talked to Nate today, and he confirmed it to me. He also tried to relay the much more in-depth explanation that Bree has, but the CliffsNotes version is this: it’s the same virus, and if any of them die, they immediately turn into one of the super-strong zombies. Or if they eat contaminated food.”

  I barely hear the end of his explanation. All I can see in my mind is Chris, mutilated and dead, coming back as—

  No, that’s not something I can accept, whether it’s true or not.

  As I try with all my might not to think about that, something else occurs to me. “Is this why they left? Because they realized they could become a terrible danger to us?” I can’t help it—as ludicrous as the thought is, it also makes fright close around my heart. I know there’s a lot that Nate never told me—and barely hinted at—and from what I do know, it was only Mom’s hysteria that made them leave. Now, I’m suddenly not so sure anymore.

  Dad looks conflicted for a moment but then reaches over and pulls me into a warm embrace. “You know that Nate would never do anything to deliberately endanger us, right?” He waits until I nod to go on. “He told us that they’ve always known that there is a chance they could turn, but that’s why they have been taking care of each other. I think the exact term he was using was ‘fucking uneducated luddites,’ among other things. But he couldn’t deny that they don’t know everything, and there is a connection to the zombie plague, and for now they are happy squatting in the middle of nowhere and raiding malls—business as usual, you could say.”

  I’m relieved to hear that—and I can’t keep a smirk from my face, picturing Nate’s tantrum; they are a thing to behold, seldom as they occur—but, again, I know he’s not telling me everything.

  “What’s Bree’s take on this?” I ask, hoping to find out more.

  We know that she left with them as we had the people from Dispatch read us their unit information, or whatever they call it for the scavenger groups. Her name was right there with Nate’s, as co-leader of the group. That surprised my parents; me, not so much, since it only makes sense. I doubt they’ll have issues hashing out who between the two of them gives the orders, but considering they are impossible to be mistaken as anything but the heavy hitters that they are, touting a sensible, gentle woman right in the description might distract from the rest. The very idea of using those words to describe Bree makes me crack up, but since we’re all playing the prejudice game, it makes sense. My mind immediately jumps back to that scavenger group our guards had to kill and what they did to those women. Yeah, having Bree as co-leader makes sense on so many fronts, and seeing her stand, strong and confident, beside Nate will open more doors for them, I’m sure.

  Dad scratches his chin, looking a little bemused. “I only got the abbreviated—and I presume, heavily edited version—but apparently she chewed Nate out because of the information about the serum project he kept from her. Yet from what he guesses, she’s not concerned about the results they got.”

  “What results?”

  I get a slightly condescending look from my father until he realizes I really don’t know. His brow furrows. “You’re helping Tanisha with it, and you don’t even know what you’re doing?”

  That makes me feel both stupid and gently chided. Right; I should have asked more, but the thing with the pregnant women threw me for a loop. “Honestly, I don’t.”

  He doesn’t look happy that he has to explain, but does, and from his tone I can tell that it’s important to him that I understand. “They are testing for antibodies to the virus. Since it’s the same virus as the serum, it’s easy to pick out those that have been a part of the program. Apparently, they also manage to catch the few individuals in the population that are immune to it.”

  That’s news to me. “Immune? You mean, there’s actual immunity to it? Like people get bitten and can’t catch it?” My own voice sounds foreign to me with the latent undercurrent of excitement in it.

  Dad shrugs. “You’d have to ask Bree about it. We only talked to Nate, so either she doesn’t know, or, more likely, she believes it’s bullshit.” He winces when he realizes that just slipped out, and I give him a conspiratorial look and raise a finger to my lips to let him know that I won’t tell Mom. Yeah, right—like I haven’t heard worse, on a daily basis, since the outbreak… and often even before that.

  Giving what he just told me some thought, I realize that the results I’ve seen make no sense. “But if what they are testing for is pretty much the serum, how could the two women who we rescued from those assholes show up as positive? They were pregnant.”

  I almost expect I’ll get a weird “nature finds a way” answer, but Dad looks grim. “Apparently, what also shows up in the screenings is that people who have had contact with those who got the serum also have antibodies for the virus.”

  That makes no sense, unless… “What do you mean, contact?”

  His eyes narrow, as if he’s expecting that I’m just yanking his chain. “Sex, Pumpkin. I’d have thought you would be smart enough to know that you can’t contract anything from a simple handshake.”

  I’m sure Bree would protest that declaration, but considering the topic…

  “You mean, like an STD?”

  He shrugs. “He didn’t sound happy when he mentioned that Bree’s results were looking close enough to his that at first, he considered that she’d been lying to him for a year when she claimed she’d never heard of the program before meeting him. The chewing-out he got mostly revolved around that part. Apparently, it’s a longer-lasting thing and predates the outbreak since Martinez also showed a positive result, if with much lower levels.”

  He cuts off there and regards me cautiously. I give him a deadpan stare back. “Oh, come on. You know that I know that he’s gay, right? He and Smith have been an item for forever.” Had been, I correct myself internally. But that explains my results right there. Chris and I didn’t use condoms—I mean, obviously not! And I’d be lying if I didn’t feel at least a little concerned now.

  “Is that dangerous?” I ask, quickly babbling on so Dad doesn’t start considering possibilities why I’m asking. “You said Bree’s antibody titer, or whatever it is, was high? Is she in any danger?”

  I get another shrug, but he looks less concerned than he would if he thought it was an issue. “From what Nate told me, she was pissed off at him because he kept a lot of information from her that she felt entitled to, and I fully agree with her on that. They should have told her from the start, if for the sole reason that she’s one of very few people left who understands all the science behind it. She wasn’t concerned about her safety, so I’d say that’s your answer right there.”

  “Then why is Mom freaking out about it all?” I feel like it’s a valid question.

  Dad sighs, and rather than exasperated, he looks tired. “Because all she worries about is keeping you safe, Pumpkin. I knew it would one day come to bite me that I kept certain things from he
r, too. Now that understandable animosity has seamlessly transferred to everyone affected by it. But in this I stand by her. It’s one thing to respect that some people chose to take advantage in exchange for later making the ultimate sacrifice, but it’s quite another to know that, accidental or not, they might have been the cause for the apocalypse.”

  I don’t need to think about my answer. It simply spills from me before I can hold it back. “That’s complete and utter bull—”

  A sharp look from him shuts me up. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Dad offers, sharper now than before. He’s definitely our Chief of Security now, not my father. “Fact is, there is danger, and it’s a good thing that people are being made aware of it. In a sense, maybe they should have singled out those that carry antibodies without the serum, because they are complete wildcards. Can they convert? Are they immune? Do the same rules apply to them? You know how we’ve chosen to handle the whole scavenger issue—as long as they give us a good reason to play nice, we will, too. But there are dangerous people out there, and a lot of them won’t see things our way, including who gets to eat the food we produce and keep the shelter we’ve so painstakingly built from nothing. Nate and his people will always be welcome here, unless they give us a good reason to rescind that standing invitation. So far, it looks like they are doing the opposite, so there’s no concern.”

  What he doesn’t say is that it’s very easy for things to change. I really don’t like hearing that, considering that he pretty much just told me that there’s no room for me here anymore, either. I kind of suspected this, but it hurts to have to hear it from your own parent—and he doesn’t even realize what he just did.

  Or maybe he does, on some level, because when I don’t respond, he hugs me close, and I feel like I’m four years old again. “Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” he mutters into my hair, still not letting go. “If anyone out there knows what they are doing, it’s them. And see it this way—in here, they can’t change anything. Until after they left, we didn’t even know there was still anyone out there willing to organize things and help people. What we can do now is build a safe haven, and make sure they have somewhere to fall back to if they ever need it. Out there, they can change the world. They’ve already started, and it wouldn’t surprise me if, come fall, things are looking very different.”

  I wonder if he’s trying to tell me something with that, because come fall, my world will be very different indeed. Maybe he’s right. And maybe I’m just distraught and riddled with grief because, for the first time in my life, I harbor a life-changing secret, and I can’t share it with the people who mean the most to me.

  After the talk with Dad, I decide that I can’t let things coast by like this anymore. The next morning, I accost Tanisha and ask her outright about the tests she is running. She tries to feed me some excuses but I can tell that doesn’t sit well with her, either. So I absolve her of that, stating quite plainly, “I know about the serum program.” I’ve seldom seen a woman distraught, surprised, and elated all at the same time. She certainly looks relieved that she can stop lying to me now.

  “You see why we need to do this, right?” she asks, her tone telling me there’s only one possible answer to this.

  “Maybe I’m missing some of the information,” I offer, almost as an excuse. “Because I kind of don’t.” She grimaces, prompting me to go on before she can call me naive or stupid. “It’s just, a lot of the people I’ve known for forever, who’ve helped us through the winter and whose work is the reason why we even have a collective here, are now viewed as outsiders by what we think of as our society now. It’s just not fair, you know?”

  I expect her to rehash the arguments Lt. Franks tried to sell us all when he brought his army soldiers here to support us, but Tanisha surprises me when she nods. “No, it’s not fair. But wanna know what else is not fair?” She actually waits for my nod to resume. The way she swallows thickly makes my heart sink. “What’s not fair is that my husband was one of those who converted when he drank contaminated coffee. And I’m the one who handed him that cup.”

  I’m momentarily stunned—and quite horrified when the implications sink in. “I’m so sorry—”

  She’s already shaking her head, clearly fighting grief for a second. “It’s okay. We didn’t know. That was before the additional warnings went out. None of us could have known. I heard something bad was coming, and I figured, I’d pick up his favorite drink from the off-base coffee shop, reasoning it might be some time until we could go there for treats again.” She offers me a tight smile. “I not only killed him, but also the fifteen people he took down before one of his men managed to get lucky and shot him between the eyes, thus saving me and three others. He died under my hands as I was trying my very best to keep his internal organs from dropping right out of where he’d gotten eviscerated. And that was just the first of many, many more casualties.” She stops for only a breath, and I admire her for how she manages to pull herself together almost immediately. “I know that my story isn’t unique. Not by far. The only remarkable thing about it is that a few of us actually survived. Most others weren’t that lucky. And there’s a part of me—depending on the day and mood, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs—that objects to the idea that we are actively ostracizing army personnel and their families. I know I’m officially supposed to say that they had almost a year to return to the fold and do what’s necessary, but we all know it’s not that simple.” She hesitates, then pulls one of her tests out of the desk, pointing at the first lane right next to the marker. “This here? That’s my sample. I always run it as a control against whatever I’m testing. I deserve that X-shaped mark as much or as little as the traders and your friends do—maybe more since I have no idea what will happen to me if I get bitten or when I die, eventually.”

  The way she stands there—confident, with her shoulders back—speaks plainly that she doesn’t want a hug, but I feel like she needs one. I refrain out of respect, and her story pulls on the scabs of the wound that my soul is right now.

  “You really don’t know?” I ask when everything else seems inadequate—and because I need to know.

  Tanisha shrugs. “There have been rumors, of course. Aren’t there always? I’m sure your parents can sing a song or two about that. When we set out in spring to help the settlements, I was volunteered because they didn’t want anyone of unknown status back at the base where I’d been staying for the winter. I didn’t protest—didn’t need to, since it was a direct order—but my commanding officer stressed that he thought someone was overreacting. Even after months of trying to collect data, we didn’t have any reports of someone like me turning without having gotten directly infected beforehand. That’s why they are allowing someone like me into the settlements. They know we’re safe. No need to worry about your friend.” When she sees my confusion, she grins, and it chases away most of the lingering grief in the room. “Don’t you think I checked in with the authorities about who the people are that you keep telling me about? And yes, a few of the names are familiar to me. Familiar enough that if I was someone else, I’d be concerned for very different reasons. But as I said—my husband was part of the program. He knew people, too, and better than some pencil pusher who relies on fear and his own inadequacies, he knew what it meant to be selected for that program—and to command these men and women. For what it’s worth, I’m glad that we have strong, competent people out there doing what needs to be done. I don’t need to listen to the propaganda saying otherwise.”

  I don’t think she gets just how much her conviction does to alleviate my latent fears. I hope that my smile conveys that but doesn’t tell her too much. “They sure know how to take care of themselves,” I say—and the fact that the pain inside of me is there turns my own words painful all over again. I do my best not to show it, though.

  Tanisha nods, oblivious to my plight. “Looks like it. I heard last night that they signed up to help an overrun town clear up the undead that are bothering them. That would b
e a job for us, only that our resources are stretched thin and we simply don’t have the vehicles and manpower for it. People are insecure and scared right now, but give it a few months and any existing resentments will die down. If you’re smart enough to survive the end of the world, you know not to bite the hand that feeds you and pulls you out of a tight spot. I’m sure that, a year from now, we will be rolling our eyes at the paranoia some people have been displaying.”

  I wonder if I should ask her about the details of that town, but decide I can pester Mom instead. I know it’s petty, but forcing her to admit that she was wrong kicking our people out will be very satisfying. Tanisha sees the subject as closed and returns to checking her schedule, but there’s one last thing I want to ask her. “What happened to that pregnant woman? You know, the one… well. She suddenly wasn’t here one morning.” I’m sure I don’t need to specify who I’m talking about. We’ve thankfully only had that one incident with those assholes and the poor women they’d been tormenting.

  “Oh, I thought someone told you,” Tanisha responds, not even looking up. “We sent her to one of the sanctuaries.”

  That’s news to me—on more than one level. “Sanctuaries?”

  She nods, turning back to me. “Most settlements have hardly any medical personnel. Only half of them have midwives, although I bet that gynecologists had a better chance of survival than ER doctors. We’ve set up a few camps for expectant mothers who wouldn’t have qualified support in their home towns and are too far away from one of the settlements who have midwives or can’t travel there. More than anything, we need to ensure that humanity’s survival is guaranteed by protecting the next generation.” A wry twist comes to her lips. “Why, thinking about contributing to the propagation of the species already?”

  My horrified expression makes her crack up, and it takes me a few panic-filled seconds to realize that she hasn’t, in fact, uncovered the state I’m finding myself in right now. With my heart still thumping in my throat, I offer up a grimace that she hopefully thinks is related to crying babies and stinking diapers in general.