“I presume you have so many questions—” she started to say but I cut her off right there.
“Is it working? That’s all I care about.”
She frowned, as if my brash demeanor had insulted her, but I figured it was simply her not understanding how I couldn’t be burning with curiosity.
“Yes, it is working,” she offered. “To a point. Your notes have helped me solve that riddle. But I’m still working on expanding that research with what you shared from the laboratory in Dallas and the compounds that—”
This time it wasn’t me who cut her off but the low-level growl that came from Nate, making it very clear that neither of us was interested in getting yet another reminder of what had transpired.
“We don’t need you to reverse all the effects of the serum,” I pointed out. “All we want is to not die. It’s not too much to ask, right?”
Surprisingly, she was quick to incline her head. “Very well. But I have to warn you. We haven’t had the time nor opportunity to thoroughly test this. There is still a chance that the injection can make you convert instantly.”
“All the better we do this out here then,” I pointed out. “Promise we’ll take care of putting anyone down who happens to go full-on zombie on you.” A few of the scavengers found that incredibly funny.
Raynor didn’t look very impressed but was ready to move on. “Good. Then, if you would please let us take a blood sample pre- and post-injection. Fifteen minutes of waiting should be fine.”
I didn’t need Nate’s sidelong glance to stiffen and immediately shake my head. “Fuck, no. You’ve already collected more than enough data from me, for several lifetimes. All you get is the outside observation of how many of us instantly convert. You don’t need more.”
She looked ready to protest, but then her expression went blank, followed by a look of surprise. “You’re pregnant again,” she muttered. “That’s why you won’t let me draw your blood. You’re afraid that will somehow change our minds and not let you walk away from here.”
I hated being that transparent, but at least I had a good answer to the last part. “Oh, I am walking away from here, and don’t even think for a moment that you—or anyone else here—will stop me.” And I really didn’t mind having Nate right next to me, in his growling, hulking glory. I knew that he was laying it on thick, but that didn’t take away from my diabolical glee.
Raynor looked as if she’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon but then motioned for one of her underlings to hand her gloves. “As you wish. I cannot predict how the antagonist will affect the fetus, but it should be fine. The mechanism is dialed to interact with the activator which keeps pushing the serum—which should be inert—toward conversion, and it stands to reason that…”
Giving up on shutting her up, I let her drone on as she swabbed the crease of my left elbow with alcohol, and without missing a beat, injected me with what looked like the most inconspicuous liquid ever. I hardly felt the needle prick my skin, and there was no burning sensation or anything. I’d gotten flu shots that had been more painful. There still was a latent sense of unease in my stomach, but I didn’t feel much different immediately after the injection, and also not at the fifteen-minute mark when Raynor was done with the last of the scavengers, leaving only Hamilton, Cole, and Hill.
I was surprised to see all three of them refuse the shot, but maybe shouldn’t have been.
Cole turned to me, grinning. “I’m not quite done playing superhero just yet. If anything changes, we know where to go. Until then, I don’t mind playing Russian Roulette a little longer.” He cast a sidelong glance at Hill, including him in his next statement. “It’s been less than five years since we got inoculated. We’re showing minimal signs, and likely have another five years to go, if not more.” I gave him a shrug, letting him know I didn’t really care either way. In fact, I was a little surprised they’d even come here with us.
Hamilton was a different topic altogether.
Since the bunker, he had been broody and quiet, which hadn’t disturbed me in the least. It still wasn’t exactly pleasant to have him along, but he was much easier to ignore now. What had changed, though, was how Nate was acting around him. I wasn’t completely sure, but I would have been astonished if they’d exchanged more than ten words between them. I kind of understood why. Hamilton hadn’t voiced a note of protest concerning why his sister had to die, but I likely wouldn’t have wanted to chat with her murderer, either. As for Nate? He was squinting at Hamilton now as if he was considering what to do, and the hard set of his jaw didn’t look like he was in favor of burying the hatchet.
Hamilton looked up, holding his gaze for a second before a wry twist came to his lips. “I guess this is goodbye.”
Nate inclined his head, but it was a rather stiff nod. “If I ever see you again, I will tear you fucking limb from limb, and without hesitation. You know that’s not an empty threat.”
In the back, one of the scavengers gave a whoop. It stood to reason they were hoping for that death match to start any moment now. I was a little taken aback by the vehemence of Nate’s promise, but also very pleased. Look at that, my husband finally—irrevocably—standing behind me… and just when I didn’t feel the need for it anymore. Typical. So very much like him to make me give up my last hint of neediness before he turned a protective leaf.
Hamilton snorted and glanced over to me. I half expected to be called “diseased cunt” to my face one last time but all he did was nod before turning to Cole and Hill. “Mind if I hitch a ride with you for a while longer? I have a lot on my mind, and graveyard shifts are great for deep contemplation.”
“We’d be honored to have you along,” Hill enthused. I visibly shook myself, still not getting how they could remain loyal to him.
Cole noticed, laughing under his breath.
“Are you even still in the army? Won’t they miss you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We both got our discharge after dropping you off on the coast with your people, before coming along for the raid on the slaver camp. All of us who showed up there, actually. We’ll let the others know about getting the shot, if they want it. Besides that, I presume they’ve split up by now, half of them slumming it in Dispatch, the others getting cozy at the Silo. Not sure where we’ll end up. Not being chased around—or doing any chasing—sounds good for now.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “If you ever need us, send word. If we feel like it, we might as well drop by.” His eyes narrowed in Nate’s direction. “The offer stands for you. Not him. You’re hilarious to be around. He gets us killed. Just saying. Nothing personal, just an observation.”
Shaking his hand—and trying hard not to wince as he got a really good squeeze in—I accepted his offer for what it was. Hill followed up with his own goodbye, and then the three of them were back in their Humvee, turning it back around the way we had come.
Nobody else made a move to drop away, and since the fifteen minutes had passed for Amos—having received the shot last—it was time to go.
I hadn’t really planned on saying something, but as I watched Raynor put away her things, I felt the need to speak up. “I’m sorry about Richards. He was a friend to me, and a valuable ally. But I know he meant way more to you. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I hadn’t expected her to ask many questions, but the look of dejection on her face spoke volumes. That she already knew about his demise—and not just from his absence here—also told me a thing or two. “He was a good man,” she finally said. “If one with a few too many secrets. I warned him that this would be the death of him. I’ve never hated being right more.”
I waited for more to come, but she turned away, fussing over something that didn’t need fussing over. Her obvious dismissal hurt, but maybe shouldn’t have. We all dealt with our personal grief in different ways. Before I could come up with something snarky to insult Raynor with, Gita suddenly spoke up, looking mighty guilty. “Do you mind if I stay here?” she asked me of all people. W
hen she caught my frown, she shrugged. “I made some friends while I was up here. And they are one of the last places on earth with a satellite connection, computers, and what remains of the internet.”
“What about New Angeles?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It hasn’t felt like home since Tanner is gone. And I have all their remote access codes. Plus, it’s too hot in the summer.”
“And what about coming with us?”
She almost winced as she replied. “A little too cold, you know? And I’m really not sure about all the last-minute building you need to do. I’m not that much of a survivalist. But maybe I’ll drop by in a year or two, once you’ve got everything set up and cozy. If you’ll still have me, then.”
No question about that. Even without her setting up the back door that had allowed us to survive—and told us about how to literally not die—she would always be welcome. I told her as much as I hugged her goodbye.
“I’ll spread the news about the cure,” she promised me as she stepped away. “Or anti-serum, or whatever it is. Not sure how many people are around who can benefit from it, but I’ll make sure they know where to get it.”
I nodded my thanks. I was glad that was out of my hands. “There are likely a few hundred infected scavengers still out and about. You may want to tell them to behave first,” I suggested.
Gita allowed herself a smirk. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they know they need to play nice, at least for as long as they intend to stay here. I wouldn’t be surprised if you set an example with dropping in on the fly.”
“Good.”
Then it was time to leave, and Emily Raynor one-upped my petty attempt to insult her by already having everything stashed away again and simply walking back onto the base proper without another word to me—or letting me get one in edgewise. I should have been glad, but of course that left me feeling slightly annoyed. I was sure she was counting on the fact that I would eventually get curious, and likely planned on selling me any information I wanted for blood samples of me—and my baby.
Well, hell would freeze over before I let that happen. If I’d proven one thing, then it was that I could be petty to my very last breath.
“No second thoughts?” I asked as I turned to Nate, already knowing his answer.
His lips curved into a smile, but rather than berate me, as usual, for asking questions like that in the first place, he leaned back, looking tired for a second—tired of the world. “I’m more than done playing the hero,” he professed. “Or villain, or avenger, or whatnot. I don’t think I’ve ever believed in the innate good in people, but if the past five years have taught me anything, it’s that humans aren’t built to follow grand ideals. We do much better if it’s every dog out for his own good. I get it—when resources are tight, everyone is out for themselves only. I think it’s about time that includes us, as well.”
Wise words, although until recently, I would have debated them. Somehow, learning who had been behind it all—in a sense, because most of the shit we’d had to deal with was really consequence based on consequence based on random actions—had doused the flame of wanting to matter deep inside of me. Or maybe that was simply the first tendrils of my onsetting nesting urge. I’d given so much for this world—no, we all had given so much; it was time we let people fuck up their own lives.
Turning from scrutinizing the base one last time to Nate, I couldn’t help but smile brightly at him. “Ready?”
“Ready!” he called to the others, shooing the lot of them back to the cars.
Climbing into the Rover, I made sure to run through my usual pre-check list before starting the engine. It still annoyed the living fuck out of me that it barely gave a whine, but I was slowly getting used to it. “To Alaska?”
“To Alaska,” Nate confirmed.
And off into the sunset we drove.
Epilogue
As rumors went, the exodus of the group formerly known as the Lucky Thirteen was rife with them. Part of it was due to the reputation they had built. But more so, it was people’s morbid curiosity that kept the gossip mills churning. Tales ran from their utter defeat and consequent annihilation to chosen exile right to plans to build up a new civilization in the far north of the continent. Little actual details were known, not even by those who had personally known them somewhere along their journey to notoriety. Fact was that way more people than the surviving seven members disappeared; several of the settlements along the West Coast in particular saw a few of their people leave over the last weeks of that summer. Some claimed it was just a few old friends and acquaintances, bringing a few provisions along. Others swore that entire trains of scavengers and traders loaded everything from basic survival gear to furniture onto trucks to make the long and dangerous journey north.
None of that mattered to the residents of the forests and tundras of Alaska. Life for them hadn’t much changed over the past years, few enough people had died in the outbreak and barely a shambler making it that far north without becoming grizzly chow first. Theirs had always been a life of hardship and few luxuries, and they didn’t much care about who was bashing in whose heads in the lower forty-nine states.
Some of them were surprised to, one morning, find a group of strangers at their doorstep, asking about where they might possibly find a place to settle down. More because he was a jerk than concerned with their business, Old Tom sent them to one of the logging camps near the Canadian border. He knew that the camp was infested, and even dropped a few hints about that. Stupid as outsiders were, they thanked him and went on their merry way to their death.
He almost swallowed the tobacco he’d been chewing for the past hour when, a week later, they were back, thanking everyone in town for the tip about the camp—which they’d cleaned out, as they explained. They’d even brought some things from the camp with them that they didn’t need but might come in handy in town. They also asked about where best to hunt game, and some other things like when winter usually started, and how long until they would thaw out again. With the first flurries of snow already starting to chase across the frozen ground, Old Tom didn’t give them much chance to survive.
He was happy to have been wrong when their new neighbors kept dropping in every few weeks, trading furs for tools and hammers, and where needed, know-how about how to keep things running up here throughout the cold seasons. They weren’t all bad, for southerners. Better than most of the kids who had been working in the tourism industry most summers. They at least knew how to make themselves useful, and from what some of the younger men said who had dropped by to visit the camp a few times, they were hard-working people. Old Tom could respect that.
Of course, half of them would freeze to death or starve, and the rest would likely get picked off by wolves. They’d had quite some trouble with wolves in the winter. A shame, really, because they seemed hearty folks.
But they kept coming back, week after week. Some got sick; a few died from accidents, but with close to two hundred people, that was no rarity around here. They also sent people when the town needed help, like when one night, Marge Bugle’s house caught on fire. They also had a doctor, and a nurse, although that young lady had a tongue on her to cure most mysterious illnesses before they had a chance to break out. They also had a handful of kids around, and one of their village council members was pregnant—a pesky woman, some of the younger men in town claimed, but only where she couldn’t hear it. Old Tom quite liked her; she was a feisty one. Always quick to offer up a smile and greeting. Not many of the young people had proper manners to do that. Only sometimes, her light-blue eyes turned distant, but he’d seen that before, too. Old Tom had fought in ‘Nam himself, and he knew not to ask questions when someone clearly didn’t want to give you an answer. Like that husband of hers—but he didn’t much come to town. Old Tom could understand that, too. Maybe come spring, he would go up into his attic and look if he still had some of the kids’ toys around. Or maybe a blanket. She would smile at him, that fiery-haired spitfire of a w
oman. He’d very much like that.
A few months later…
Vernon had known it was a bad idea to drive north to Alaska. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? But Peter hadn’t shut up, raving about the idea for months. He’d barely listened when Vernon had told him to wait until the snow had had a chance to thaw. And that said nothing about the reception they likely had waiting for them.
But none of that was on Vernon’s mind right now as he screamed at Gunter to floor it, another round of bullets pinging against the side of the beat-up car they were in. Gunter was a good driver, but they’d been up for going on two entire days, half the tires of the car were shot, and the gravel, interspersed with holes filled with mud, didn’t make for easy going. It had been over an hour since they’d last seen any of the other cars. Vernon didn’t want to consider it, but they were likely all dead.
Gunter wrenched the wheel hard as he sent the car careening around yet another bend in the road, the left rear wheel losing traction and spinning them into more of a whirl than expected. For a moment, he was convinced that they would end up in the gorge below the cliff, but Gunter somehow managed to regain control of the car again and floored it. The decline was a steep one, and to Vernon it felt more like they were sliding down in an avalanche of mud and small rocks than going down the road. There were trees everywhere, interspersed with streams and boulders. Maybe they should leave the car and try to get lost in there somewhere?
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 110