“Well, this was strange,” I finally said when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
I was surprised to find Nate smiling slightly as he briefly looked from the horizon to me. He had done a lot of that during the day, and not just because we needed to make sure not to attract attention. “For you, maybe.”
“Sure, extricating nukes from underground bunkers is what you usually do before 11 a.m.”
“It’s not a nuke,” he insisted. “Do I wish it was one? Fuck, yeah. But plutonium needs over twenty pounds to achieve critical mass, so no grenade-sized thermonuclear warheads available, I’m afraid.” I waited for him to say more, but when nothing came, I decided to drop the topic—for now. I knew it would come up again—inevitably so—and until then I would do my best to ignore the implications: if we needed to use that shit, we would all end up dead.
Acceptance was one thing, but I very much wanted to live long enough past our victory to at least get a good cheer out of it.
Chapter 18
The trip to Dispatch took us five more days, leaving us one entire day to spare. After leaving the bunker, it had made sense to head south rather than north as the settlement was kind of in the way otherwise, so we ended up pretty much backtracking along the very first route we’d ever driven after the undead had risen. The northern trade route wouldn’t have been much better since we’d taken that to Sioux Falls, with only a slight detour for the cannibals afterward. My paranoia wanted to jump at the fact that, while never traders ourselves, our most iconic trips had ended up being everyday thoroughfares now. In reality, it made sense; Nate and Andrej had, of course, picked out routes that had been easy to follow and as far away from population centers as possible—the same principles that, even years later, still appealed to travelers of all walks of life. And since we had a full set of maps of the current trade routes—and Rita’s promise continued to hold up—why not make this as easy a road trip as could be had? A few times we saw traders on the go, but as soon as we—or the Humvee—zoomed by them as the lead car, they usually stopped and retreated to the side of the road, no further stunts like on our way to Dallas required. They obviously knew who we were, or had made it their business not to bother anyone who looked like they were going somewhere fast. I didn’t care, my need to socialize completely filled up by having my old crew back with a few additions. Hamilton, I could ignore. After the first night on the road, Nate returned to disappearing with that asshole in tow, while I was up and had someone to keep me company at the fire. Each familiar face from years ago that was missing was grating on my soul, but, honestly? It was fun to share all our weird tales with Amos and the scavengers, and while Cole and Hill both pretended to be annoyed by it, I could tell that they always lingered to hear the end. I was well aware of the fact that it was only a very brief respite, but if the last few weeks had taught me anything, then it was to get the most of the few opportunities that presented themselves. For now, I was healthy, I was free, and I was able to joke about apple sauce and graphic T-shirts, and the odd time I’d crashed into a wall or puked my guts out, hanging from the hood of my old Rover—although that last bit I heavily debated, my memory of our visit to Dispatch sketchy at best.
It was impossible to miss that we were coming close to Dispatch in the last few hours of driving the day before we actually arrived. First, there were the signposts—a dead giveaway even now. But it was the subtler signs that both put my mind at ease but also got the back of my neck itching, feeling watched. Even in the very first year after the apocalypse, the territory around the sprawling scavenger city that had once been Grissom Air Reserve Base in Indiana had been remarkably well prepared, with forward watch towers aplenty, the roads cleared so that larger groups of cars could quickly get there and leave once more. They’d accomplished that by towing the wrecks off the roads, and I’d seen firsthand that they’d siphoned off what fuel had remained in them. Now, even the wrecks were gone, likely repurposed in whatever way possible.
New were not just increasingly more guard towers but entire groups of buildings, not unlike forward bases, and several rows of trenches and fences that left the road free but could be barricaded within minutes. The Dispatch I’d visited had been a somewhat guarded free-for-all festival. Now, it was a veritable fortress. As we got closer to the gate, I saw that the town had by now grown right to the border of what had been the base beforehand, and on the other side had not just extended to the buildings of the former prison next door but completely incorporated it. With New Angeles, it was always impossible to tell just how far the settlement reached, but here it was obvious just how much it had grown. From the amount of houses altogether, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the number of permanent residents had surpassed ten thousand easily. But people weren’t only living on the other side of the fence; an entire shantytown had grown outside the gate, presumably where those who weren’t welcome went. The entire last mile up to the gate was jam-packed with market stalls, potential customers and vendors alike jumping in front of my car, forcing me to slow down to a crawl if I didn’t want to run them over.
Trying to do the right thing and letting them pass made it so that I was almost at the gate when I realized that our arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. I hadn’t expected them to let us in without some posturing and threats, but from the roadblocks dragged in front of the gate and the well over fifty armed guards in evidence, it didn’t look like they were planning to let us inside at all. Rita herself was waiting smack in the middle of the crowd, the hard expression on her face as impactful as the defenses on display.
Up until then, I’d thought she was refusing to help us because she was afraid. Seeing how she’d built up Dispatch’s defenses, I realized she must have decided she was done being pushed around, and what little she’d done had already been a courtesy—probably because she figured we might still come in handy, like to take out the one threat to her reign that still existed. I didn’t know why that left me a little conflicted. For some reason, I liked my internal narrative better when we’d been too dangerous to deal with.
Glancing at Nate as I brought the Rover to a stop in the middle of the wide open space in front of the procession, I found his face unreadable. There was tension in his body, but that was all I got from him. Noting my focus on him, he briefly turned his head to look at me. There was anger in his gaze, more than I’d expected or seen him exhibit before. What must have looked like a concession to me was clearly an insult to him.
At his nod, I turned the car off and reached for the door, opening it in sync with Nate. For once, my body didn’t sabotage me, my exit one flawlessly executed sequence of motions. Stepping around the car after slamming the door shut, I ended up on Nate’s left while Hamilton assumed position on his right—a leader flanked by his attack dogs. As much as I hated to be lumped together with Hamilton in any way, I definitely liked the impression we left.
Nate halted exactly one third of the distance between the cars and Rita’s position, forcing her to come walking toward us herself—but also giving her the option of stopping at an equal distance from her people, turning the space between us into some kind of neutral ground. That was exactly what she did. I wasn’t surprised that she came alone, her position portraying strength and ease. The queen deigning to step in front of her castle to hold court, nothing less.
I’d expected some additional show of strength—and maybe a greeting—but Rita waited exactly five seconds after rocking to a halt before she reached inside the pocket of her jacket and pulled out an envelope. She and Nate stared at each other before she extended the hand holding it. “I have been asked to give you this.”
Even though it wasn’t my task to do so, I positively vibrated with the need to come forward to collect it. Nate simply remained standing, staring at her rather than the envelope.
“Impressive setup,” he remarked, still focusing on her alone. “I can see why you’d be afraid to lose it all.”
A muscle jumped in the corner of Rita’s mouth, but
rather than become offended, she seemed to relax, letting the hand drop to her side—just as if she knew something we didn’t, but direly needed to.
“So good of you to notice the obvious. And the only thing I’m wasting is my time with this. If my call earlier this week has left you with the impression that I’m acting as someone else’s errand girl, then I have to inform you that you’re sorely mistaken. I was asked—nicely—to deliver a message since I have established Dispatch as a neutral ground. The fact that you’d come here of your own free will made it interesting as well, but I’m sure that if not through me, the message would have reached you through other channels. Since that likely would have involved even more senseless bloodshed, I agreed. Too many people have bled for this already.”
I could tell that her words grated on Nate’s conscience, but I doubted he felt guilty for what she accused him of—and, just like me, he wasn’t responsible for this.
“Then why don’t you finish your errand that isn’t one so we can be done here?” Nate suggested with all the arrogance I knew he was capable of—which was a lot.
Rita stiffened but started walking forward. Nate didn’t move a muscle, remaining standing between us, not giving her an inch. With every step forward, Rita’s demeanor grew colder and more aggressive, until she rocked to a halt right in front of Nate, just close enough so the envelope could be exchanged with outstretched hands. I half expected her to turn around now and stalk off, her proverbial tail swishing like a cat’s, but instead she remained right where she was, considering Nate calmly. Was her demeanor all just for show? It would fit, I figured—and grew increasingly more annoyed with it.
“Want a word of advice?” she offered, her voice pitched low now, not carrying back to her people, but also not to the rest of ours. Nate gave the smallest of nods. “Run.” When he just stared at her uttering that literal one word of advice, she allowed herself something between a sad smile and a smirk, as if she was conflicted herself with which emotion to go. “You know that at the end of this road, there’s only death and pain. You’ve been expecting this for a long time, and have been planning well for it, I’m sure. But you will not find what you’re looking for. There won’t be a chance to reason with the powers that be, and there won’t be a chance of redemption. But it’s not too late yet to simply turn around and run, and live out your remaining days together in as much happiness as you’re capable of. There’s nothing but darkness if you continue following this road.”
That sounded cryptic enough—and very much like crap—that I wanted to laugh, but Nate kept staring at her as if she’d given him some profound truth. That was annoying in and of itself—until he replied.
“You’ve talked to him. And you’ve known for a while exactly where he is.”
Rita grimaced, but it didn’t look like in response to his statement.
“I would have done a shit job fortifying my home if I didn’t know what’s lurking on our doorstep,” she offered. “But yes, I’ve known for a while. Which is also the reason I have done my very best not to get further pulled into this shitstorm. Because I know this is a fight I can’t win.”
“You let yourself be paid off,” Nate accused, his voice turning soft and deceptively calm.
Again, she wasn’t perturbed by the unspoken threat. “Yes,” she responded, plain and simple. “To save myself, but more so to save my people.” She cocked her head to the side, studying Nate intently. “How many people have already died because of your pride and arrogance? If I’ve learned one thing from watching you from the sidelines, it’s not to make the same mistakes myself.”
“You still think you’re so much better than me?” Nate’s tone definitely sounded like a growl, and I realized he was a step away from physically launching himself at Rita, either to strangle her to death or smash her head in. That realization bewildered and alarmed me, and not just because it kind of came out of nowhere. It really didn’t fit the calm, collected front he’d always displayed around her.
Rita must have realized what was going on, a look of caution replacing her outward calm. “No,” she finally said, more even than I could have managed in her position. “I don’t. In fact, I’ve tried very hard to break that compulsion for years—to always measure myself against both of you so I can devise a way to come up ahead. I’m not your competition, and you’re not mine. Do I understand and support all the actions you’ve taken in the past seven years? No, but then I don’t need to, either. As I said, leave me out of your fucking war. And before you get all high and mighty, consider this: how many people have you saved? And how many have you condemned to death? Because Dispatch comes with a rather steep headcount, if you need something to measure your success against.”
Nate simply stared at her, as if that could deflect her barbs. Maybe it did, because he sounded more composed than before when he replied, “Good for you.”
Shaking her head, she sighed with annoyance. “Whatever you think is waiting for you, you’re wrong. This isn’t a war that you can win, or even fight. Trust me. Turn around and run. I can’t offer the three of you sanctuary, but we’re happy to keep your people here until the air has cleared once more. Just… it’s not worth it.”
Nate gave that a moment’s consideration but I could tell nothing she said had changed anything about the situation. “As touching as your concern is, it’s unwarranted. You didn’t give a shit about Hamilton or me rotting in that prison cell, either. What should have changed in the meantime? Besides us likely inconveniencing you if we kill your cozy next-door neighbor.”
Rita looked ready to fling something at him—at the very least some expletives—but then she shrugged. “What do they say? It was nice knowing you.”
“That’s a lie,” Nate noted.
She didn’t deny it. “You’re only going to make it worse, you know,” she started again, but then shook her head, mostly to herself. “I’ve tried my best. Can’t save you from yourself.”
“No, you can’t,” Nate offered, still staring at her. “What’s with the second envelope?”
I almost startled with surprise and glanced at his hand, but since this seemed to be a hush-hush thing, I tried very hard not to.
Rita seemed, if anything, slightly annoyed. “It came with the other, if not as a package deal. It’s addressed to someone named Cole. Ring a bell?” Nate shook his head before I could give anything away. Rita gave another shrug. “Maybe you’ll know once you’ve opened yours—far, far away from here.”
“We’re not welcome to keep loitering in your driveway?” Nate asked, amused. “You wound me.” Before she could respond, he turned around and started marching back to the car. I had to hurry to catch up, figuring that if I hadn’t said goodbye to friends, I didn’t need to wish Rita a good rest of her life, either. Hamilton followed at a slightly more sedate pace, apparently at ease that he was reduced to a silent bystander.
“Where to?” I asked as soon as the car door closed behind me. Was I burning up with curiosity about what was in that envelope, likely dictating the terms for how the rest of my life would play out? Yes. But it made sense to get away from here first where there were less bystanders, and not a million sniper perches all around us.
“Back the way we came, then turn south at the second guard tower. That should get us out of here.”
Nate remained as silent as our coms, which irked me more and more with each passing mile. Ten minutes passed, twenty, until I could finally turn off the road onto a much smaller one. Nate kept pointing straight ahead whenever I checked with him, the others following behind. It was a good hour outside of Dispatch—and a while since I’d seen the last of their forward positions—before Nate told me to stop at the side of the road, literally in the middle of nowhere. As soon as I’d brought the Rover to a halt, he got out, with me following hot on his heels.
It took what little patience remained inside of me to manage to hold still while he tore open the envelope. Inside, there was a card—as in, a fucking stationery card, thick cream
paper and gold print. It spelled out our names, and an invitation to “dinner, tomorrow evening.” Things couldn’t get any more surreal than that.
“Think it’s black tie?” I joked. “Not sure a ball gown would go well with my combat boots.”
Hamilton, reading the card over Nate’s shoulder, snorted. “I’d be more worried whether it went with all the parts you’re missing, if I were you.”
I was only mildly annoyed by his remark. He was really letting me down. That didn’t even warrant a response.
Nate turned the card over, pausing when a map was printed on the back. Squinting at it, I realized that it was a road map, Dispatch and the doomsday bunker clearly marked, the same as a few waypoints in between. “At least we know now that we are heading in the right direction,” I pointed out. Somehow, getting that address before in Dallas now left a bad taste in my mouth. Again so many lives lost, and for what? I had to remind myself that this wasn’t a zero-sum game—and our arrival had led to the death of the serum project, probably quite literally when its lead scientist had bit the dust. Going forward, that may very well be the single most important thing we’d accomplished—no more people getting infected with faulty versions of the serum.
Once he was done looking the card over, Nate handed it to Hamilton, who continued to scrutinize it until Pia held out a hand in silent demand. Curious as I was, I figured I’d seen everything there was to see. Nate had in the meantime gotten the second envelope out of his pocket, handing it to Cole. “Since that’s addressed to you, you might as well open it.”
Cole looked at the offering like it was a basket full of snakes but finally accepted it when Nate seemed ready to tear it open himself. He paused with the single sheet of paper that he found inside halfway pulled out. “What the—” he said, confused, but stopped himself when something must have occurred to him. “I’ll need a while, but I think I can decipher this.” He looked up, searching for something. “Who has a spare charged battery in their car? I need to plug in my laptop, or else this will take fucking forever.”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 101