It made sense—too much sense. And it was easier to focus on than the part that directly affected me. “And the drugs that they have been testing on you…”
“…is the shit that cuts through the extra protection of the updated version,” Hamilton stated, finishing my sentence. “Whatever they’ve been feeding those weirdos is the large-scale, low-dosage trial run.”
Maybe it was due to a certain level of cognitive decline, but my mind didn’t even bother with useless denial and went straight to agreeing with him. And it did make sense—the drugs that Harris and his people had been giving me had definitely worked on me, but the buzz had been comparatively low. Cortez’s men had shot me up with the undiluted shit, and the aftereffects of that still had me crawling up the walls. Anyone subjected to that who hadn’t gotten the full serum protection would likely have died. So much for Cortez’s interrogation plans that we’d crossed.
It all made sense—even though I didn’t want it to. And not just the camp and the turning tide of the scavengers.
“He sent you here to die because you warned us,” I muttered, too late realizing that I’d said that out loud when Hamilton’s gaze turned hard, the taunting quality of before gone. “Decker, I mean. That’s who we believe is running the show behind the scenes, right? You became useless, or more of a nuisance than you were worth, and they needed a candidate to run the full-scale experiments on. That you did them a favor and didn’t just up and die only helped them with continued testing.”
Someone else would have at least given me a hint of credit for that deduction. All I got was a sneer. “You think you’re so fucking smart—”
“And she is,” Nate interjected, coming out of his—definitely disconcerting—stupor that had been mildly disguised as attentive listening. “Cortez didn’t know who I was, so, more often than not, I got the low dose.” When he caught the confusion on my face, Nate shrugged. “I’m sure he’d figured that because I had the scavenger marks, I couldn’t have been part of the project when they rolled out the update that renders us immune to the mind-control shit. Everything they pumped me full of screwed with my mind, but more often than not I managed to fight through the worst of the haze before the end of the arena combat. That’s why the first time we ended up in the arena together, I managed to hold back from needing to kill him, and why around a third of my opponents went on to live another day. I had to turn it all into a massive, crowd-pleasing spectacle to keep myself alive, but that still means that more often than not I couldn’t hold back.”
I had a certain feeling that his last fight that I’d witnessed had been one of those, but didn’t ask. Plausible as Nate’s deduction sounded, it opened the door to another question. Turning to Hamilton, I couldn’t help but scrutinize him all over again, but except for more vitriol I got nothing from him, closed-off bastard that he was. That forced me to ask the question suddenly burning on my mind. “That explains why you are still alive. But what’s your excuse?”
I didn’t miss the sidelong glance he cast at Nate, as if the fact that he hadn’t killed him still amused Hamilton. Nate’s expression turned guarded, making me guess that the silent exchange between them had sent another message that I hadn’t caught. With his usual amount of scorn returning, Hamilton answered me. “Wanna know my secret? My one true super power? I have amazing self-control, which is what you owe your life to.” I couldn’t help but make a face—did he really think I’d buy that bull?—but he went on before I could call him a liar, his voice gravelly and low enough that it barely carried beyond where I could hear him. “Your asshole of a husband told you what happened before they shot us up? The moment I came to again, my entire world was consumed with the kind of homicidal rage that you will never come to understand. There was nothing and nobody that I wasn’t ready to kill, and right that very instant. Yet because my reaction must have been the most predictable in the world, Decker had given me a warning just before they put me under; that if I didn’t perform exactly as expected, and in fact keep excelling in every single detail, what happened would be child’s play compared to what storm I’d call down. And that thought—that fear—was enough of a lifeline not to lose myself even when every single fiber of my being was screaming to let go. Maybe it’s coincidence that they hadn’t perfected their drugs yet, but nothing Cortez shot me up with tore through that iron grip that I’ve always had on myself, and that’s the only reason why you’re not a widow or plain dead yet.”
A shiver ran up my spine, and not because of that last little detail. I got the sense that, for the first time—and probably the only time—I’d just gotten a glimpse at the real Bucky Hamilton, the man who Nate, on some level, still considered his friend, or at least worth keeping around until he stopped being useful. I’d never expected to say that, but I much preferred the asshole persona he usually rolled out around me. He was one of the few people who I never wanted to feel two things for: empathy and respect. What he’d just told me evoked something inside of me that came way too close to both for me to be comfortable with. Judging from how quickly his usual mask slammed back in place, he must have felt the same way, his smirk making me want to repeatedly wash myself.
Riding shotgun with that realization came a different, if no less uncomfortable one. “What you did at the base—and right up to our fun little training stint on the destroyer—that wasn’t you actually trying to force-feed me the tools I’d need to keep a grip on myself and not convert on all your asses where you were locked in with me in a tin can of a ship, now, was it?” I didn’t need any confirmation from him—and, in a sense, he had already given it in the past, only that he’d claimed that my hatred for him had been the one thing that got me through that eternity on the operating room table—but the way Nate’s eyes widened, if only a fraction, told me I was right.
Hamilton, of course, had to answer with a derisive snort. “Self-important little shit as always,” he drawled, his smirk now directed at Nate as he kept talking to me. “It was a win-win situation for me. Either he’s stuck with you—which should have been the ultimate worst-case scenario for any guy—or I get a front-row seat to watching him having to put you down like the bitch you are, thus crushing that last thread of humanity he’s been holding on to for ages. Nothing to lose for me, and everything to gain.”
This was getting way too personal for an audience in the high double digits, but I couldn’t help it; I just had to ask. “Is it me, personally, that you have issues with, or are you still playing some idiotic game that makes you think you have to come up ahead of him? Because, really, since it looks like we’ll have to work together, I’d like to know if it’s something I said or did. I know I have my share of much-deserved resentment present in this world, but I just can’t figure out why you’re always up in my business.”
Hamilton’s mouth twisted into something that in anyone else, under different circumstances, would have been a smile, but I knew that wasn’t the case here. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And clearly, that was the last he was going to say on that topic.
In a sense, dying soon was maybe not so bad.
That sentiment was enough to switch my focus back to the people around us, and I couldn’t help but single out the handful of my friends, who’d spent the brief intermission of the three of us tearing into each other in hushed tones having their own, much concerned discussions. It wasn’t that much of a surprise that Martinez looked the most upset. Any single one of us—or maybe that was just me and Burns—in his shoes would have been gloating at least a little, in an “I told you so!” sense. He’d always been adamantly against getting the serum himself, and from what I’d heard, had to fight a battle of wills against Emily Raynor not to be inoculated when she’d done her best to fix his spine injury in trade for us joining the expedition to France. But with very few exceptions, he’d just heard all of his close friends getting a death warrant served, and he was the kind of good guy who wouldn’t just shake that off. Santos and Clark, both in a similar boat with him in that aspec
t, looked perturbed, but since nobody was insta-converting right that moment and coming for them, they both bottomed out at appearing vaguely disconcerted. No surprise with the Ice Queen and Andrej, either—while he did look ready to ask for a bottle of vodka, nothing could really faze him, and she was her usual collected, hard self. Who was definitely breaking his usual MO was Burns, but then this wasn’t exactly a joking matter. I had a distinct sense that he was mostly vibing off Sonia, who was whisper-shouting at him with increasing agitation, which seemed to upset Martinez even more. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but I could guess. Somehow, this would be my fault, too.
The rest of our group—the former guards from the California settlement, the handful of old contacts Pia had called in, and Marleen—seemed more interested in watching the reactions around them than looked concerned for their own safety. My guess was that none of them had been exposed to either version of the serum. Marleen’s attention did center on the three of us briefly and I didn’t like the cool, calculating quality of her look before she turned it into a small smile. It was likely too much to expect her to be truly upset; she was probably calculating how to stay out of the fray but not miss a moment should we, inevitably, turn and go for each other’s throats.
The scavengers, while alarmed in general since my explanation, took it in stride. A few of them even looked calmer than a few minutes ago. Part of me wanted to feel insulted, but really, I got it—we were all in the same boat in the end, and some might see that as fair.
That left the bunch of army soldiers. I hadn’t expected any of them to show much more emotion than our command huddle, and they didn’t. Richards was maybe a little white in the face, but that could have been due to the withdrawal symptoms. Cole was just whispering something to Hill that made the hulking soldier’s shoulders shake. Neither of them seemed very upset or surprised. Two out of the group whose names I didn’t know were standing a little more at attention than the rest, making me guess they’d been part of the serum project as well, but since their lieutenant was keeping it together, they didn’t seem to have a reason to be nervous.
So it pretty much boiled down to me, Martinez, and Sonia losing our collective shit. I hadn’t expected that, striding into the arena.
Maybe it was my stunned silence. Maybe he’d simply been biding his time, letting Hamilton and me have it out so he could spare himself having to sort through that. Whatever it was, Nate took that moment to whistle loudly, immediately shutting down all conversation, drawing all attention to him. Unlike in the tunnels inside, he no longer looked uncomfortable with that intense focus, but in fact seemed to stand just a little taller for it. No, it was something else, I realized; something that I’d stealthily gotten used to, and never realized it had gone missing when he’d decided to take the backseat.
The man standing beside me was Nate Miller, unquestioned leader of this chaotic assembly, and pity the man or woman stupid enough not to recognize that.
“Whatever the impact on our personal lives, this doesn’t change much, if anything,” he called out, speaking loud enough that the last straggling conversations easily faded into the background. “If you disagree, you are free to leave now, no hard feelings. But we have gathered here to hunt down the people responsible for all the shit that has affected us, and I for one won’t rest until I have their heads on a pike, rotting in the sun.”
No surprise there—the scavengers loved that statement and gobbled it up like… food that instantly upset my stomach all over again, as resilient in that aspect as it usually was. I swallowed hard, instead focusing on the other factions. None of them showed much enthusiasm, but there was grim determination on more faces than I’d expected—just as if he’d said what had been on their minds.
Nate, picking up on that very fact, went on. “We have few clues and even fewer names, but that won’t hold us back. We know that Cortez’s Chemist has been the driving force behind the experiments going on here, and he’s the first we will track down. Depending on what we find and what he will tell us, we’ll start working up that list, one by one.”
The male scavenger who was convinced my survival solely depended on my performance in the sack spoke up, looking quite enthusiastic about potentially sticking people’s heads on pikes, but less convinced about the details. “How are we going to find one guy in a huge country?” His gaze flitted to Hamilton, his eyes narrowing. Maybe he and I would become friends after all, judging from the dislike on his expression. My standards were pretty low these days. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m getting the sense that more than one individual is a turncoat here.”
Hamilton didn’t look fazed, but neither did Nate. “You could say the same for me, actually,” Nate pointed out. “Only that I switched sides before the shit hit the fan. Others may have needed a little longer to see the light.” He got a smirk from Hamilton for that, but no answer. Apparently, I was the only one who got steamrolled with those. Nate even went as far as to look at the gathered soldiers and marines before he went on. “What I’m calling for isn’t all-out war on any faction. I’d very much like for everyone who survives to be free to return to their people, or do whatever else they want to do after we’re done. This is not going to be an operation like the crusade that my wife kicked off three years ago. This will be a series of near surgical strikes—a few people only, doing what must be done.”
Harris took it upon himself to ask the pertinent question. “And that is?”
“Kill a man who goes by the name of Decker, who we believe is responsible for everything,” Nate explained.
A few people reacted, but mostly with confusion. The army and marines groups gave us little, making me guess that the name either didn’t ring a bell, or was something not talked about by those in the know. Not for the first time I marveled at how anyone could build such a reputation, and no less by mostly flying under the radar.
Suspect-Blowjob Guy voiced what most of the others must have been thinking. “Who the fuck is that guy?”
“A phantom, mostly,” Nate said, his voice hard. “He was working under the cover of recruiter for the army, but he’s been heavily involved with PSYOPS and most black-ops jobs none of you will believe our military has been conducting for the past decades. The serum project was his baby, and considering the events since I dropped out from under his patronage, I strongly believe that he’s one of the powers that is responsible for the apocalypse.”
That made even me do a double-take. Nate ignored my imploring gaze, instead glancing at Hamilton, who, if not outright agreed, had a neutral look on his face that could mean anything. The crowd succumbed to speculations for a few moments, but hushed immediately as Nate spoke up once more.
“I’m not saying that turning the world into a free-for-all for his creations was beyond him, but I’ve talked to several of the people who have had dealings with us, and all of them have agreed that it’s a possibility. Look at the evidence—the serum that is so close to the zombie virus. The fact that whenever one faction tries to thrive for stability, things end up going terribly awry. And don’t even get me started on the operation that Cortez has been running here. It all makes sense.”
Maybe to him. To me, it still didn’t, and I wasn’t afraid to voice that. “How can one single man be that powerful in a world where getting from one town to the next is a gamble? And you did hear about the part where none of us is as invincible as we’d like to be?”
Hamilton responded rather than Nate, making me wonder if they’d discussed this between themselves. “Easy. He’s not controlling anyone’s actions directly. That seldom was his MO in the past. He set it all up, and then he kicked the game into motion. We’re all pawns, inadvertently doing his bidding because it’s often the only chance we got.”
“That’s—” Ludicrous, I was going to say, but Pia, very uncustomary for her, interrupted me.
“That makes more sense than a lot of other theories,” she offered, her voice drawing equal attention to Nate’s. “We have tracke
d down the traces of his plans and machinations all over the place. We found the scientist who developed the weaponized version of the virus. We found—or, mostly, heard about—the people who distributed the contaminated food. There’s evidence aplenty that someone meticulously took out the handful of people who could have worked against the plan, or even now possess the knowledge to do something about it.” Not incidentally, she looked at me for that. “And we’ve had dealings with the rogue faction who has been working on the mind-killing version of the serum—Taggard and his people, who kidnapped you, and now this operation here. It all depends on relatively small command groups working independently—and presumably, unknowingly—of each other, each following orders that they must have had for months, years, maybe even a decade ahead of time. The outbreak of the virus is the only part about it that could have happened spontaneously if humanity had been absolutely fucking unlucky. The rest? Splinter cells working off their task lists, one by one.”
I could have done without that explanation—and by someone other than the Ice Queen. It suddenly sounded way too plausible for the paranoia raging anew in my mind.
“Still doesn’t explain our failing immunity,” I pointed out, feeling stupid when both she and Nate—and Hamilton, with a second’s lag—looked at me flatly.
“Collateral damage,” Pia drawled. “Hamilton is right when he says that we are pawns. We are. Some of us highly skilled, and in motion for a long time, but still. All of us are dispensable. And a lot of us must have overstayed our welcome by a lot, considering how the forces in motion have been gunning for us.”
“You think he’d just throw thousands of lives away like this?” I couldn’t help the incredulity in my voice.
Nate shrugged off my argument. “He couldn’t have known that we’d eventually succumb to the virus. Now he’s just running with it. He still got over a decade of good use out of us; two, in some cases. That’s more than any of us thought we’d survive when we signed up for the serum project.”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 50