Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12

by Lecter, Adrienne

  No one cheered or applauded—although that speech definitely deserved one of those “I’m thanking the Academy” bows—and more than a few of the soldiers looked happy to have already been granted permission to sit this one out. Our people—which, to my surprise, included Sonia—and the scavengers looked satisfied instead, chief amongst them the Ice Queen herself. That made me wonder just how much resentment she must have felt—for years now—watching Nate pretend to be a bystander rather than to jump into the game head-on. I’d never gotten the sense from her that it irked her overly much, but that had changed since Andrej’s death. Had he meant that with his cryptic mark about inspiration?

  A little late, I realized that, maybe, I should offer my expressive, quite public support for Nate’s endeavor. “We will. No doubt about that.” Hamilton echoed my sentiment, if silently and with a gruff nod instead, but that was all that was required. While dread did settle into my stomach, it was mostly relief that flooded my mind. Relief that finally the time for waiting and indecision was over. Even if we all got killed, at least it wouldn’t be while churning frustrated ruts into the dirt.

  Taking another look around, Nate nodded to those of us who would follow him. “Grab your gear and get ready. We have some work to do.”

  Chapter 16

  As inspiring as Nate’s speech might have been, leaving turned out to be an undertaking in itself, a certain sequence of essential tasks that needed to be checked off first and couldn’t be skipped. Like trying to decide which cars to take, and who would ride with whom. With Moore and Collins staying behind, what had once started out as the Lucky Thirteen could have fit in a single vehicle if we’d opted for clown-car style conditions, or a large truck. It made more sense to keep to our usual MO of fitting somewhere between two and four people per car, with ample room for gear and sleeping space if the need arose. I fully expected to return to the car Nate and I had been driving since we’d liberated it from the laboratory underneath Dallas.

  Other people had alternate plans in mind.

  I knew something was up when the flurry of activity ground to a halt, and everyone was suspiciously waiting close by at the same time as Martinez had suddenly disappeared. I would have claimed amorous reasons for that but Charlie was standing right there behind Sonia, shooting the shit with Burns, so that couldn’t be it. Nate picked up on my sudden irritation but seemed clueless himself, which made my paranoia skyrocket—until it deflated in the best, and most unexpected, way possible.

  The crowd, for what it was worth, parted as two vehicles came lumbering toward the fire pits from somewhere deeper inside the settlement. At first, I figured they couldn’t be ours since those cars were all parked in the enclosure meant for that very purpose by the gate. But then the make and model of the lead car registered, making me laugh out loud with delight.

  It wasn’t my Rover, of course, because I’d trashed it to where it wasn’t even useable for spare parts—Martinez’s words, not mine. Upon closer inspection, it was obviously not the exact model, the grill and window proportions slightly different. But it was a Rover, painted in matte all-over-camouflage pattern, and on the driver’s side door I could just make out our old scavenger unit decal. Not in garish red as we’d gone for in the initial run, but the darkest gray used in the pattern, impossible to make out from more than a few feet away—a number thirteen inside a circle, the lines tilted slightly in an approximation of speed. Underneath, also in dark gray, an alpha symbol and “Lewis” in clear stencil. I was sure that the other side had Nate’s name on it. So much for any future discussions about who would get to drive this baby.

  I didn’t know what to do first—jumping up onto the hood and trying to hug the windshield sounded weird even to me—so instead I grabbed Martinez as soon as he slid out, doing my very best to crush every bone in his torso. A million questions raced through my mind—and I knew it was just a matter of seconds until someone started wondering aloud why I’d never shed a tear about losing a single piece of gear but was now ecstatic at the sight of the car—and he started answering them as soon as I let him draw breath once more.

  “We found it last year, rotting away in a field,” Martinez explained, lovingly patting the car’s chassis. “Took some work to find the spare parts to get it moving again, but it was a welcome excuse to spend a little more time up here than down at the coast.” He allowed himself a grin in Charlie’s direction, as if that explanation was necessary. “We knew that, eventually, you’d come back, and we figured it likely wouldn’t be by sneaking in through the back door late at night. Guess we were wrong about that to a point, but hey. You still need a car, and if we’re driving to our doom, might as well do it in style.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I hugged him again, and did him the favor of not following that up with a kiss. “That’s simply—”

  “Amazing,” was what I’d wanted to say, but Martinez finished my sentence for me. “What friends do for each other.”

  Looking from him and past the Rover to the other car, I felt my heart grow heavy for a second when I realized that, of course it was a Jeep, albeit a slightly smaller one than its first incarnation—that I had totaled as well, although it stood to reason that having a bridge collapse underneath us was in no way my fault. Glancing at Pia, I found her staring at the vehicle with a hint of resentfulness, although it was obvious that she’d known of its existence—and whose name must be printed on the driver’s side. Before I could say something, she shook herself out of it, glancing at Martinez with her arms crossed in front of her body. “I presume you will insist on keeping your very sorry excuse for any driving that’s not on a race track?”

  “You bet,” he said, grinning.

  She grumbled something under her breath and turned to Burns next. “Any chance in hell that you’ll shut up if I ask you to ride with me?”

  She got a bright smile for her bother, and a slightly more gentle one from Sonia. “It will do you good not to spend the entire trip brooding in silence,” Sonia enthused. “Besides, if you don’t feel like talking, the two of us can more than carry a conversation.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Pia muttered—but also looked kind of pleased.

  Santos and Clark would ride with Martinez—as they had expressed they would love to do since we’d left California—and that almost took care of the lot of us. The exception—Hamilton—turned to where Cole and Hill were the only two of the army faction who hadn’t started to drift away. I almost expected them to do some bona fide grunting exchange with no actual words involved, but Hamilton let me down. “You two okay if I catch a ride with you?”

  “Fine with us,” Hill offered. I hated that it sounded more like, “Honored to have you along, Sir,” but then some habits seemed to die harder than others. I figured they’d continue to take their Humvee since it was a perfectly fine vehicle with a perfectly working AC. Assholes.

  That left the scavengers—all nine of them that were in good-enough shape to join us—with enough surplus cars that we could leave the ATVs to the Utah settlement to put to good use. I wasn’t surprised that my three harpies were over the moon when Nate offered them our car, although I could tell they were miffed I hadn’t been the one to hand them the proverbial keys. The other six scavengers split two-by-four into the prize cars we’d taken from Dallas, leaving plenty of room for extra provisions.

  Glancing over to the marines, I could tell that Buehler was seething with resentment for being left behind, but Blake had a certain relaxed air about him. I hesitated, but then walked over to where Buehler was pretending to ignore me so I had to directly approach her. “Sergeant? If you have a moment, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  She grimaced but then dutifully stepped to the side, out of the bustle surrounding Martinez and Clark driving the new cars and over to the others, all of them getting filled up with provisions and gear now. Nate, noticing my absence, gave me a nod that told me he’d take care of my shit, leaving me to do damage control.

&n
bsp; “Can’t say I will miss missing out on another suicide run,” Buehler offered while I was still stalling. “No offense, but I think your husband is right in one regard. This is your mess, and if you have a chance to resolve it, you should absolutely take that opportunity.”

  “Sounds better than nuking half the Midwest,” I only half-joked.

  Buehler grinned, making me guess she was either on board with that backup plan, or not taking it serious at all. “So what’s up?”

  Looking around, it didn’t take me long to single out Sadie where she was standing, Chris safely clutched to her shoulder to keep her out of the fray, watching the rest of us get ready. Turning back to Buehler, I did my best not to let a sudden wave of emotion choke me up. “I know this may sound strange, but I need you to take care of Sadie and Chris for me.” Buehler looked ready to protest, although I was sure it wasn’t about the task in general. “I know, they will have a great home here, or wherever else they will end up. That kid will grow up with a lot of love, never feeling like she lost anyone, and I’m glad about that. But honestly, I’m a little afraid Sadie won’t ever let her out of her sight, and she’ll get coddled way too much by an overprotective mother who has every right for her actions but won’t see what damage she’ll do. I need to know there’s someone around who’ll take the kid aside and teach her the necessary shit. You know, like take her to the range, teach her all the self-defense shit that’s not sanctioned by the official authorities, things like that. If either of us were around, that’s what Zilinsky would be doing, and me, too. Her mother and the people here will only ever tell her the good stories, always feeling for the poor kid who lost her father before her mother even knew she was pregnant, and most of her aunts and uncles before she could form more than vague memories of us, if even that.” When I saw Buehler’s confusion, I chuckled. “Christine’s father was one of us. He died defending my life when we came after the cannibals that were killing people left and right in Illinois, that first spring after the long winter, when nobody was organized enough yet. He’s the reason we have the thirteen in our unit name but only twelve people ever signed the sheet.”

  Buehler’s eyes widened with recognition. She must have heard one version or another of that in the past, but never quite made the connection. It wasn’t exactly something we loved to advertise. “Sure, I can do that,” she promised, still sounding slightly perplexed. “And I’ll tell her all the things her mother won’t want her to know.” We both looked at Sadie and Chris then, a little lost in thought.

  “Fuck, but I wish I could do at least some of that myself,” I muttered.

  Buehler chuckled. “That reminds me of my first Sergeant, back on my first deployment in Iraq. He was dying of a gut shot out in the field. The corpsman had done his best to patch him up but there wasn’t much left to keep it all together. He told me what he regretted the most about dying wasn’t the fact that he’d never get to see his wife and kids again, but that he wouldn’t be around to teach them everything they really needed to know to get ahead in life. Shit, I wish I’d been on my usual post when the shit hit the fan. Then maybe I could have gotten them out and someplace safe.” Her eyes focused back on me. “I’ll make sure that little girl won’t need anyone to come save her. You can count on me.” I didn’t hesitate to shake her hand when she offered it, her grip strong and firm despite the fact that she knew what was missing inside my gloves.

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she muttered. “I don’t have kids and don’t really plan on changing anything about that in the near future. Having a surrogate to look after is almost like you’re doing me a favor. Gives me a good excuse to get back out there once in a while. We do our best to keep the roads in this part of the country free and as safe as we can, you know.”

  I wondered if that was a barb at us, but then decided not to dwell on it. “I’m sure the people here appreciate it. Even more so after the shit that went down in California.”

  She grimaced, and I realized she might interpret my statement in the wrong way. “I hate that this could happen on my watch,” she offered. “Or what would have been my watch if we hadn’t been chasing after ghosts with you. I don’t regret leaving my normal post, don’t get me wrong. Might even have ended up saving my life, although I could have done without getting shot.” She paused, making sure nobody was close enough to eavesdrop on us. “Wanna know one thing I regret? That you had that fight with Hamilton while you were still recovering, and not on the way back to the States. You could have wiped the floor with him if you’d waited a little longer, but I’m starting to see why you didn’t.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh harshly. “I wasn’t really jonesing for a fight on the way back anymore. But for him, I would have made an exception.”

  Buehler grinned, but also looked slightly confused. “I still haven’t quite worked out the details of your hierarchy. Back when we set out to France, that caused a lot of discussion among my men. They told us next to nothing except that you’re all army, plus some technical advisors, and we should let you take care of any issues. To say I was surprised about your rampant lack of respect for your commanding officer is putting it mildly.”

  That made me guffaw. “Bucky Hamilton has never been, and will never be, my commanding officer, or anything even resembling that.”

  “I know that now,” she admitted. “Getting some of the details from Richards helped, too.” Again, she paused, as if she was considering how much to share, but more likely she was gauging my reaction. She must have found it favorable since she continued. “You fascinated him, you know? I hate to admit it, but at first, that made me jealous, although I had no reason whatsoever for that emotion. You know how strange the human mind can get at times, particularly when it cannot understand something.”

  She looked quizzical enough that I decided to let her off the hook. “I get it. I’ve had my fair share of issues, finding myself, unfairly, scrutinizing other women. But I’ve never had anything but sheer fascination and respect for Zilinsky. Well, and fear, but that’s partly her fault for shooting at me while I was hiding behind a trash can and inside some air ducts. Long story,” I added when she gave me another weird look. “We’ve since become tight friends. But I still wouldn’t dare antagonize her and expect to see the end of it.”

  “Wise choice,” Buehler offered, smiling slightly. Then her expression evened out once more into a neutral one. “As I said, Richards found you fascinating. Although, less in a chick-he-wants-to-bang kind of way as I first suspected, but more like a hard-to-make-sense-of specimen. I know that probably makes him sound worse than he is—”

  I interrupted her with a smirk. “Don’t get me wrong—I like him. And if that’s what you’re fishing for, I don’t think he betrayed us. But I am very much aware who his superior was, and in whose footsteps he was treading. ‘Specimen’ is likely the best term for how he sees me. I’d like to think that we’ve become friends over the years, and he’s the charming, good guy, sometimes womanizer, always straight shooter that he likes to show the world. But I know that, at the very least, he’s not just all that.”

  The look of surprise on her face was borderline offensive, but quickly got replaced by a shrewd smile. “Considering who you—willingly—married, I should have figured that you don’t take anyone at face value. But let me repeat what I said earlier—you are a hard woman to understand. I’m glad I met you when your quirkiness was at what must have been an all-time low. I’m normally better about judging people, but you’ve sent me on quite the run for my money there.”

  “I get that sometimes,” I said, not without pride. “What do you think about Richards? Did he betray us?”

  She shook her head, quickly enough to make it appear genuine. “It took me a while to understand that he wasn’t just a pretty, ambitious face with a helluva nice body,” she hedged, laughing at herself. “Just saying, I normally don’t make a habit out of sleeping around. But it was a d
amn long, boring time on that destroyer, and with him being from a different branch, there wasn’t that much issue with fraternization and shit. I’d never bang one of the soldiers under my command.”

  “No need to defend your choices, not to me or anyone else,” I offered. “But even less to me, really. I’m not pointing any fingers any time soon.”

  I got another considering look from her. “None of us saw the betrayal coming, you know? That bitch assassin, I mean. I didn’t like her but only because I knew she’d banged Richards and I felt like she must have been jonesing to encroach on what I falsely believed to be my territory. Not sharing that bias, you didn’t stand a chance seeing through her. The way she was portraying herself, she was immediately too much like you for you to get suspicious.”

  While just thinking about Marleen was making me angry, that statement got a good laugh out of me. “Oh, you mean because my husband clearly has a type? Spunky psychotic?”

  “Something like that,” Buehler agreed, chuckling. “She played us all, but even more so, she must have played you from the very start. And not just you, considering how murderous Zilinsky gets whenever her name is mentioned.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think she would have taken it lightly if I’d died, whether it was on her watch or not. And considering the shit that happened in California, I’m not sure how much worse off we’d be now if she hadn’t been racing to the city, but I doubt that even half of us would still be standing.”

  “Maybe tell her that, too,” Buehler advised. “I have no business whatsoever imposing on her grief. But you’re her friend. Just like you rely on her to keep you on the straight and narrow, I think she needs you to tell her to loosen up a little, let go of all of her guilt. She’s an admirable woman. I mean, the stories people tell about her… and having been around her for a few weeks now, on and off, I can tell they are true, all of them. But what’s that saying? Metal that turns too hard also becomes brittle. Saying she needs to soften up a little is akin to anathema, but I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”