She came to a halt, both so I could catch up, and to fix me with a quite potent glare. “Bree, you are aware that even if Miller is still alive, and even if we get him out, there’s a good chance that he’s in no condition to do anything but recover for a while? Who do you think will be running this shit-show then?”
That was a sobering thought. Again, nothing exactly new, but somehow it had taken her statement for the reality of it to really sink in. “You think it’s going to be that bad?”
She hesitated, which made me stomach sink further. “What I think is of no consequence,” she finally supplied. “My job is to plan for any and all eventualities. Do I hope he’s his usual chipper and capable self? Yes. Do I expect it? More likely is a somewhat tarnished-around-the-edges version of it. We both know he’s a tough bastard, and he’s easily motivated by revenge and redemption. And, just like you, he can’t show weakness unless he absolutely has to. But even so, his job will be easier if he can rely on you to not just be a rambunctious sidekick but his equal partner in crime. Whatever you like to tell people, you were barely more than a figurehead when we went after the assholes in Colorado. This time around, be the leader you were meant to be.”
Trust it to her to give me both an inspirational pep-talk and knock me down a few notches. Her confidence in me did a few things for my ego, but I’d heard enough caution from Nate—and acquired first-hand experience—to know this being-a-leader gig didn’t come with positives only.
Our established camp was still a good three hundred miles from our destination—far enough away that no random patrols should stumble over us, but close enough that we could get there within two days. It had been Richards who had suggested that the first wave of infiltrators head straight to the slaver camp rather than help establish our forward base—that way, they could only torture directions out of us, and not the actual location. I really didn’t care for the implication, but it was smart thinking. It also meant that today was the last time I’d be surrounded by people I trusted with my life—later this afternoon, once we hit the road, things would be very different.
I couldn’t wait to get started.
We ended up settling on eight cars—one from us, one with Richard’s people, and one from the marines each, leaving four vehicles full of scavengers. Pia had offered the remainder of Harris’s people to stay with them since none of the other groups seemed ready to put up with them. It wasn’t hard to see why—or hear, or smell, or guess in general. If not for how much time we’d lost already, I would have called for more planning to maybe find another way. But as it was, we had no time, and no one had miraculously thought of something else, so pretending to be a bunch of unwashed savages it was.
We took our leave in the afternoon, with time aplenty to get the first hundred miles down. We had enough provisions since we only had to plan for a maximum of three days on the road. A lot of our real gear was left with the base camp, same as weapons and surplus ammo. Since we had no idea how much of what we brought would remain with us, it was better to go in reasonably light, if packing enough that we could defend ourselves. Scott and the two operators he’d brought with him had protested vehemently, but they, more than I myself at least, should have seen that this made sense. Even with trying to dress down, they still stood out the most; Richards and his guys weren’t much behind, though. Cole, Hill, and Gallager had remained behind so the three men he’d brought instead were as much a mystery to me as Scott, but they behaved about as stupid as the marines. Their antics had made me borderline apprehensive of stopping for the night, but Buehler and her people were a welcome surprise, blending in just as well as Santos, Clark, and Marleen. Thankfully, Harris turned out to have more command over his rabble than I’d been afraid of from what I’d heard about them so far, but that wasn’t saying much. I instantly missed Pia as we made camp, and it took all of five minutes for the first fight to start.
Well, at least we didn’t look like a group of highly trained professionals.
Getting some hot food helped establish peace eventually, and the two bottles of moonshine making the rounds further quieted dissatisfied voices. I was just about to relax when Richards dropped down next to me on the log that I was abusing for a bench, not even waiting for an invitation.
“You know that they’ll sniff us out if we stay segregated like this?” he stated, pointedly looking at the—clearly kept-apart—groups around our two small fireplaces.
“Why? Miss hitching a ride with me?” I asked, well aware that we’d never actually been part of anything, not even a fire team, except for when he’d helped me drag Nate’s lifeless body out of the lab.
Richards inclined his head nevertheless. “Actually, I’m here because of that. You and me, we should stick together. One of my men will establish contact with our people on-site, so I’m free to lend a hand if you need it.”
“Hardly.”
If my immediate rebuke surprised him, he didn’t show it. “You can’t waltz in there with your people,” he pointed out. “They will jump to the right conclusions if they find the same tats on all three of you. Her?” He glanced over at where Marleen was busy joking around with Buehler and her marines, next to Santos and Clark. How had I managed to end up on my own, I wondered? I’d obviously set myself up for this. Richards going on drew my attention back to him. “We can take her along, but I think she works best on her own. But you and me, we’re a team.”
I was about to protest, but then thought better of it. “That part of my husband’s contingency plans as well?”
Red shrugged, not quite denying my accusation. “Not outright, but I think he would prefer you to have someone around who may very well keep unwanted attention at bay.”
That very idea made me guffaw. “Really? You’re volunteering to be my knight in shining armor?”
“More like meat shield, if you need one, but you make it sound a lot more valiant,” Richards joked. At least I hoped he was joking.
Did I want to stick with my people? Yes, but he had a point. He was also a head taller than either Clark or Santos, and that might come in handy in a crowd. Santos and Clark were a well-oiled machine working together, and there was a chance I might throw them off as a third wheel. Maybe I should have thought of that first. I realized the only reason I was protesting was because Red had been the one to approach me, not the other way round, and even on my worst day I could admit that this wasn’t a good enough reason to decline his offer.
“Very well, you and me as a team it is. Your people are going to be okay with that, I presume?”
I grinned at the hint of condescension leaking into his expression. “That’s what orders are for,” he observed succinctly.
I was just about to ask how we would do that with the cars when Harris came sauntering over, followed by my two favorite scavengers, Amos and Eden. They still had yet to speak a single word to me since the docks at New Angeles, but I’d caught them staring at me on more than one occasion. It seemed suspicious to have them trailing him now. At least their open hostility had decreased somewhat.
“Mighty fine to find the two people I need to talk to already involved in conversation,” Harris drawled as he rocked to a halt in front of us.
“What’s up?” I hoped that sounded sunny enough. I still didn’t quite know what to make of all of them, and now was not the time to add dissent to the already volatile mix.
Harris’s smile broadened—not very assuring. “We need to make sure that you don’t all stick out like sore thumbs. Nobody would want to get caught right at the gate.”
I didn’t try to hide my confusion. “We’ve painted the cars and downgraded our gear wherever possible. Feel free to try to get that stick out of Scott’s ass that keeps him from behaving like a normal person. I’ve tried. I won’t try again.”
Chuckling softly, Harris shook his head. “Your gear is fine. We’ll sell them some bull about having gotten our grubby hands on some prime merch a few weeks ago. That’s not the problem. But you’re the problem.”
Not the first time someone told me that. Cocking my head to the side, I squinted at him. “Me specifically, or me as a general entity?”
That did a thing or two to confuse him, but Harris shook that off a moment later. “You as in your entire bunch of stuck-up, look-down-your-noses, yessiree do-gooders.”
“You’re not making any sense whatsoever,” I told him rather emphatically.
Red, ever the smart cookie, answered before Harris could. “He means we’re too sober to blend in.”
Just that moment, Buehler let out a shriek of laughter that told a different story, but I got the sense he wasn’t talking about the booze making the rounds. “Not really much we can do about that, for at least half of us,” I pointed out.
I really didn’t like how Harris was grinning now. “And this is where you’re wrong, Ms. Bree,” he was happy to inform me. “The truly good stuff cuts through that mighty fine serum you’re all so proud of. We might have to tweak the dosage a little, but double the whammy should even send one of you fine specimens to your knees.”
“And we want that?” I tried to keep my hands still, but I felt my left one tremble ever so slightly. Yup, still rocking the after-effects of that shit—I had no intention whatsoever to get any chemicals into my system, even if they weren’t designed to knock me out or leave me helpless, presumably.
Harris sure looked very gleeful about his proposition. “If you want to get into the camp, and not get picked out right at the gate, you will want to fit in perfectly with us. No worries. I’ve told my fine fighters a week ago to lay off the high doses so that you’ll only need to take a small hit to blend in.”
“And by that you mean all of us?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
I really didn’t like this, but I doubted he’d suggest this just to spite us. After all, they were losing out on whatever we were consuming. “One dose only,” I agreed.
“No can do,” Harris was quick to inform me. When I frowned, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m sure that a woman of such keen senses as you, Ms. Bree, has noticed that unless we’ve hit up very recently, most of our fine warriors display certain signs of…” He trailed off, casting around for the right word.
“Withdrawal symptoms?” I suggested sweetly.
“Close enough,” Harris admitted. “Although you’ll soon see that’s not quite it. You will also do well with some extra time to get accustomed to the sensation. I say you hit up now, and again tomorrow before we get going. No worries, my folks know how to drive under the influence well so we’ll take over driving the vehicles. I’ve wanted to talk to you about splitting your groups up, as well. Didn’t sound like a smart move when we were still in the camp, but it will help a lot.”
Richards had remained mostly mute next to me. He only offered up a shrug when I turned to look at him now. “Do I like the idea of being high with my men split up over several vehicles, hitching rides with people whose affiliations I’m somewhat dubious about? Not exactly. But he’s right. We need to fit in, and it’s the easiest way to reach the camp. What’s the worst that can happen? We lose a day or two in there before we’re sober enough to operate.”
“Or we get caught at the gate, and executed on the spot because of who we really are,” I suggested. “And that’s the best-case scenario.”
Surprisingly, Amos found his voice to interject. “Won’t happen. Just like you, they tolerate us, but they never completely trust us. So they leave us the fuck alone once they’ve made sure we’re legit. Eden here has tangled with the guards a few times, and never turned out to be a problem. They’d likely get suspicious if you’re all too meek and well-behaved. That’ll get you killed.”
I still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t exactly have a history of doing well on stimulants.” I caught Richards grinning faintly to himself, making me guess that, one way or another, he was already privy to this information that I was about to share. “Ever heard of my grand stand that ended in the truce with these idiots at the Colorado base? I was fucking tripping balls, and that was just the damn booster that should have let me run a little longer and lift a little easier. It’s been weeks since I got away from this damn camp, and I still get the tremors. I’m less concerned that I will make an ass of myself and more with turning into a homicidal maniac hell-bent on cutting a literal swath through the masses until I find what I’m looking for.”
Amos actually seemed impressed while Harris did his best to alleviate my concerns. “The Glimmer, it works differently, no worries. You may feel a slight sense of euphoria, and some impressions are, well, way more impressive than without, but it’s not going to turn you into a hyperactive killer squirrel. Might actually mellow you out, going on what I’ve seen you do in the past. And if you take the first hit now, you’ll have the entire night to see how you react. Trust me when I tell you that I’ve thought of everything.”
There was so much about this that I felt like objecting to. That Harris’s suggestion didn’t really surprise me that much didn’t help. At all. But that didn’t change the fact that I kind of agreed with them.
“Looks like we should go over the plan once more before we do this,” I said when nothing else came to mind to prevent it. Richards nodded his agreement. Harris grinned.
This was so going to turn into a shit storm, I just knew it.
Chapter 19
It turned out, I had been wrong—the Glimmer, whatever it was, didn’t completely turn me into a psychopath, and the marines didn’t wholeheartedly threaten me with mutiny, but both were a closer call than I liked to admit. It took a good two hours of heated debating until everyone had agreed to take the drugs, and as soon as the shit hit my lungs and thus got into my blood, things got really weird. It definitely wasn’t like what they’d tried to subdue me with at the camp before—and nothing like weed, which had been my first guess since the application worked about the same. But the fine powder didn’t look like it came from dried and ground-up plants. My guess was that someone had gotten their grubby hands on a chemistry textbook and started cooking up their own versions of whatever cool stuff they’d seen on TV once. I vaguely remembered the organic chemistry lab I’d had to take in college, and the weird shit we’d produced there. What baffled me was how potent it was, and that the single dose I got seemed to cut right through all the defenses the damn serum should have given me. The reason seemed obvious—the serum did a great job screwing up pain receptors, which went hand in hand with why specific painkillers didn’t work anymore, but this compound must be working on a different system.
It made me feel pretty good, and if not for the killer headache, dry mouth, and general sense that I needed to punch the next person in the face who looked at me the wrong way, I wouldn’t have minded partaking so much. But withdrawal set in swift and brutal, and that seemed to be something that affected me way worse than our marines—and at least with Buehler I was sure she wasn’t kidding when she offered that she felt a little groggy but otherwise fine. So it probably was some downstream metabolite of the drug, not the drug itself, that screwed with my brain—and faster metabolism meant more broken-down poison at a much quicker rate. Just as if someone had engineered it to sucker-punch those who normally got up and ran where others could only drag themselves forward. I kept that thought to myself, not sure if heightened paranoia wasn’t just another side effect, but it sure didn’t make me happy to get another hit in the morning.
That was, until that really set in and the world turned bright yet mellow once more.
Since switching up the driving and seating order required some redistribution of gear and packs, I used the time to limber up a little and try to stretch the various kinks out of my body. I missed not having Nate around to help—for some reason, helping me bend over until my spine cracked and cut-apart-and-reknitted muscles did once more what they were supposed to had always seemed like fun to him—but I managed well enough on my own. That was, until I noticed I had not one or two, but closer to ten salivat
ing bystanders as I did my very best—in a near-split—to get my damn thigh muscles to loosen up. Rather than getting in their faces, I found myself grinning stupidly to myself. Huh. Yeah, those drugs were packing more of a punch than I’d thought last night. I was sorely tempted to drop my pants and show them the scars in all their horrifying glory so they actually got something to ogle, but restrained myself. Leader, and all that shit.
Damn, but I needed Nate back, because I so wasn’t going to do this shit, on my own, for long.
“Okay, everyone know what they are supposed to be doing when we get to our destination?” I asked when everyone was as ready as they were going to get. Thanks to Harris and his people we had a somewhat reliable overview of buildings and troop strength, but only for the areas visitors were allowed in—almost exclusively concerning entertainment and food. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
I got way more stupid grins than nods, which didn’t bode well. Actually, the scavengers were the ones best responding to questions. We were so fucking screwed.
I would have felt better riding with Harris but he insisted that Eden and Amos made a much better match, so it was them I shared the car with, besides a rather doped-out Richards. Since we were driving crap cars running on all kinds of fuels—only three had electric motors, one even had its own extra huge tank of vegetable oil—there was no AC, and as the midday sun beat down on us, I started to regret pretty much every single decision of my life. More to distract myself than because I was burning to know, I started a conversation with Eden and Amos, who’d been mostly quiet in the front row of the car.
“How many times have you been to the camp?” It was as neutral a question as I could come up with.
Eden considered as she glanced back to me from the passenger seat. “Five or six times? Something like that. You, Big A?”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 28