It was the pain radiating from where my fingers dug into my scar that tore me out of the worst, letting me draw a much needed deep breath into my lungs. The world stopped zeroing in on me, but I still felt crowded, like I could feel the press of bodies against mine. Cursing under my breath, I set out straight for the Rover, trying hard not to focus on anything else. My pulse was still racing and I felt cold sweat on my brow, making me shiver even with the sun beating down mercilessly on us all.
Andrej looked up as I approached, a frown forming on his forehead as he took me in.
“You okay?” he asked. Why did everyone always have to ask that when it was so damn obvious that I wasn’t?
I shook my head and stepped around him, wrenching the front door open so I could grab my hat from the dashboard. That the fabric seemed to have warmed up to a thousand degrees I didn’t care; the additional shade it threw on my face helped my eyes to properly focus, and that was more important.
Andrej appeared by my side, visibly concerned now. “What’s wrong?”
What wasn’t? Yet before I could reply, Nate’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “She’s having a panic attack.”
How the fuck could he know that when even I wasn’t quite sure what was happening? But now that the worst was over, I had to admit, that sounded like an accurate description of what was going on. I did my best to ignore him, not trusting myself yet not to go after him in earnest if he said one more stupid thing.
We were both spared that when the sound of approaching cars grew louder, making the—admittedly not very dense—mass of people pull away. Three SUVs, painted in mute, dark colors and splattered with enough dirt and dust to mostly obscure them, tore across the field, sending gravel and dust everywhere. I remained standing where I was while Andrej hollered, signaling them to come over to us. While I didn’t quite manage a smile, I felt some of my latent anxiety die down as six unwashed figures got out, easily drowning out the sounds that the people all around made.
Burns was right there, not just picking me up but actually swinging me around before he tried to crush me with his tree-trunk arms. “You look so much better than last time I saw you, girl,” he whispered to me, making me snort rather than laugh.
“Yeah, kind of hard to look worse than dead,” I replied, finally squeezing him back. Damn, but I’d missed him.
The others, too, I realized, but thankfully they kept their distance, somewhat. I could tell that Martinez was itching to hug me as well, but I doubted that any of them had forgotten the circumstances under which we’d parted. It was Santos who poked the elephant in the room—or at least the one carrying the blinking neon sign on his back.
“We’re back up to six super freaks, I see,” he said, then had the grace to look away, shrugging awkwardly. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
Nate replied with a simple, “We are,” but Martinez took that lead to go in for the kill.
“It’s great to see you up and running, but how the fuck did you survive that?” The good-natured murmurs going on died a sudden death, leaving my loud exhale more audible than it should have been. Burns gave Martinez a downright hostile glare that our medic shrugged off. “What? Don’t tell me that each and every one of you isn’t burning to ask that?”
This made something glaringly obvious to me—Burns and Andrej knew. But the others did not.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. Relieved. Angry because now it fell to me to explain. And that overwhelming grief of the past weeks was back, slamming right into me, stealing my breath.
“That’s not important right now,” Pia quipped, as if Martinez had asked something completely inconsequential. “We are all here, and we need to decide what to do next.”
The usual slightly complaining murmurs answered her—Campbell pointed out that they dearly needed a bath, and crashing somewhere safe for the night would be neat, too—but Martinez didn’t let himself be deterred. “Don’t you know?” he asked, studying me intently as if he could read the answer right off my face. “Aren’t you burning to find out? You of all people—“
“I know!” I snapped, more annoyed at my own reaction than his pestering. “I know, all right? And that doesn’t change a thing.”
Burns winced, yet before anyone of us could tear into the other, we were all interrupted by Petty Officer Stanton joining us, this time without her contingent of guards. She was in full armor, her shotgun at ease across her chest. Immediately, I liked her even more than before. Her gear was dusty enough that she looked as if she’d just returned from patrol.
“The Commander extends his invitation for you to stay as long as you’d like,” she said. “We are right now clearing quarters downstairs so you can have a space for yourself. It’s not much, I’m afraid, but better than camping up here. Unless that’s what you’d prefer? We have working air conditioning downstairs,” she added, for the benefit of the newcomers. Appreciative mumbling answered her, but as usual the others left the decision to us. To me, more specifically, I realized when neither Nate nor Pia were making a move to respond.
I was still trying to decide how to answer when Stanton reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded printout that she held out to me. It was actually two papers, I realized, when I took them. “Maybe this will change your mind either way,” she supplied.
Unfolding the papers, I couldn’t help but scowl. Nate studied them over my shoulder, snorting—a rather wet sound, I noticed with satisfaction—at what he read. “Talk about notoriety,” he offered.
“Seriously?” I asked no one in particular, then handed the printouts to the Ice Queen when Stanton stepped up to explain why she’d been carrying two honest-to-God “Wanted Dead or Alive” posters with Nate and my likelinesses on them.
“We intercepted the transmission about twenty minutes ago. It went out to all settlements in the network, and likely all other facilities that are connected via satellite, with a verbal bulletin for those that are not. Congratulations. You both are wanted criminals.”
Burns plucked the posters out of Pia’s hands, whistling as he read the text on them. “‘Wanted for murder and slaughter of civilian innocents.’ What did you do, puke on their doorstep?” My glare silenced his laugh mid bray, but the amused look didn’t leave his eyes. Burns really would laugh on his deathbed, I realized, and didn’t give a shit about my finer sensibilities. Damn, I’d really missed him. I had a good idea what that claim stemmed from, and Stanton confirmed it a moment later.
“The story goes that you attacked a group of soldiers who were aiding traders out on the plains,” she said. “You killed the traders and all but one of the soldiers. Him you supposedly left alive so there would be someone to tell the tale.”
My stomach sank at hearing that, and not just because it was a steaming heap of bullshit. If that bulletin had gone out today, that likely meant that whoever had been sent out to investigate what had happened to the soldiers had found the remaining traders—and I was sure that they hadn’t left anyone alive to contradict their version of the events.
“You believe that?” Pia asked, her tone dismissive.
Stanton shook her head. “I personally don’t, and neither does the Commander or anyone else here. I doubt anyone in Dispatch will give this the time of day, either. But it might be a problem elsewhere.” The printout returned to my hands, and I stared at it for another minute. It was my old picture from my time at the Green Fields Biotech labs. It might as well have been from another life. Nate’s was a far more grainy photograph taken somewhere outside, and judging from the fact that his hair was shorter and dyed black, it must have been from sometime before the shit had hit the fan. I’d never bothered to ask him why he’d dyed it. Probably to look a little less like his brother when he busted the company that he blamed for Raleigh’s death.
“This might complicate things,” I noted, feeling like I was stating the obvious.
Stanton shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know how up to date you are on the recent developments
. What might get you shot on sight in some regions makes you a bloody hero in others.” I almost winced at that, but there wasn’t a hint of trepidation on her face, making me guess she wasn’t among the scant few who knew, either. It was about time I stopped letting words get to me like that, but raw as I felt right now, it wasn’t easy.
“We’ll stay for the night,” I decided, not bothering to confirm with Nate. He could go fuck himself if he disagreed. “Tomorrow we’ll see what we do about this.”
“Very well,” Stanton acknowledged. “Good to have you here for another day. I’ll radio ahead to the hangar that they do some overtime. I imagine you will want to get that fixed,” she said, nodding at my Rover.
“It could use a wash,” I said, smirking when Burns chuckled. “As could most of them.”
Stanton took her leave, and I hated that awkwardness slammed into us once she was gone. I knew that it was just a phase, but these were the people I trusted like no one else in the entire world. There should have been no reservations between us.
Martinez, properly cowed after my outburst before, eyed Nate critically. “What happened to your nose?”
“Nothing I didn’t have coming,” Nate replied, wincing as he gingerly touched it. Turning to Pia, he made a face. “Wanna fix it?”
The venom in her gaze surprised me, but not her reply. “You know better than to ask me today.”
Burns took the opportunity to jump in, likely knowing just enough to realize why this must be a loaded subject. “I’ll do it,” he offered, his grin doing its own to further defuse the situation. “Not passing up a chance like that.”
Martinez would likely have been the saner choice—or to ask the resident nurse to do it—but it occurred to me that Nate was maybe not a hundred percent sure just what his blood was contaminated with at the moment. I felt vaguely stupid—and rather negligent—that I’d run out on Sunny before I could get the information I needed about just how contagious I was, but I was sure I could remedy that without having to suffer through the entire lecture. Dom at least seemed like he had enough sense to set him up to do this, if nothing else.
Pia took over coordinating to get all the vehicles into the hangar and us out of the setting sun. I itched to remain up here a little longer but remembered my little panic attack all too well, so I just turned around and walked back inside. Someone else could take care of the Rover. I just didn’t want to deal with this shit yet if I could avoid it. Not that I had anywhere to go or anything to do, which was a really bad thing, I realized. So I went back into the gym. Maybe a good workout would take care of the sudden restlessness inside of me.
Martinez tracked me down there halfway through my suicide sprints, not very suicidal that they were seeing as I was half-assing them at best. He’d changed out of his gear into just pants and a T-shirt, the universal Silo style, it seemed. One look at his face and I knew that someone—Burns, likely—must have pulled him aside and told him just how much of a foot-in-mouth moment he’d accidentally stumbled into. My vindictive side drove me to go into the middle distance one more time after finishing the short one rather than stopping right there, but with my thigh cramping and my drive to push myself almost nonexistent, there was no reason to go on like this. Easing up on my speed, I more trotted than ran back to where he was waiting for me.
He opened his mouth as soon as it became obvious that I was aiming for him. “I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t know—“
“I know,” I said, interrupting him before this could get any worse. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It just…” I trailed off, glancing down at my lightly grazed knuckles. “Really bad timing is all.”
Martinez nodded, accepting my apology like I knew he would. “I get that. I don’t even know what to say. A first, eh?” His self-deprecating laugh was a shaky one. “I don’t even dare ask you how you’re doing.”
I shrugged, feeling the tension slowly leave my shoulders. “I’m alive. That’s something. There’s also some weird anger-driven strength thing going on, I think. Not really sure about that yet. Oh, and I should probably claim temporary insanity because I now have Nate’s name tattooed on my ass. That happened, too.”
A grin threatened to break through his carefully composed mien. “Do I dare ask why? But hate to break it to you, rational decisions have never really been your strong suit.”
I shrugged, trying not to reach for said part of my anatomy and scratch the light itch going on there. “I’ll ignore that you just said that. It’s complicated. Or not. He asked me to marry him over what turned out not to be the grave of what might one day have been our child, and I agreed, and things went downhill from there.”
Martinez looked away, clearly fighting with himself what to reply, but I went on before he could say something that would make me angry again. He was the last person who deserved my anger and frustration.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Plain and simple. I appreciate your help, but it’s too soon.” I paused and couldn’t stifle a harsh laugh. “Shit, in ten years from now it will be too soon. Besides, that’s between him and me, and no one else. That I’m right now so fucking mad at him doesn’t change that.”
Martinez nodded slowly. “Burns mentioned that he didn’t tell you… Anyway. You’re back from the grave. Lookin’ good for that.”
In spite of how my throat tightened up, I couldn’t help but smile. “Compared to what, a decomposing corpse?”
He gave me a critical once-over that made both of us crack up. “Two legs, two arms, no bleeding wounds—looks to me as if everything is how it should be,” he offered. “As for the rest, you know I’m the wrong guy to talk to about that.”
“Yeah, like any of those other yahoos would dare tell me to my face that my scrawny ass doesn’t blow them away.”
“Just like they wouldn’t dare tell you if it did,” he objected, smiling. “Scar’s giving you any trouble?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t help but rub my hip absentmindedly. “Not much. I get stiff whenever I don’t move enough, and sometimes it feels like it’s… it’s hard to explain. Like it’s not as elastic as the tissues there should be. Annoys the fuck out of me, but then, what doesn’t?”
He gave me a “what else is new?” look but took the sting out of it with a warm smile. “It will get better.” His gaze fell on the scar left by the scratches on the inside of my arm. “Is this what I think it is?”
I shrugged. “You try vaulting from your death bed in full gear. At least now I know that the undead fuckers can’t really mess with me anymore.”
“Typical scientist,” he grumbled. “Always have to do everything with experiments.”
“Hey, there has to be one advantage to almost biting the dust,” I complained. “With all the other shit going on, the least I deserve is immunity. Did they already tell you about the other perks?”
He made a face. “Nate mentioned that you don’t taste anything and the whole hunger and thirst feedback isn’t working. You gotta be careful with this shit, particularly if you’ve inherited some of that juiced-up metabolism. It sounds so harmless, but I’ve seen people die from overexertion.”
“I’m a girl. Calorie counting is in my DNA,” I joked.
“See it this way,” he proposed. “No more complaining that you can’t eat any sweets.”
And therein lay the next mine in the landscape of our conversation. Martinez winced at his own words while I made a face. “Did you know that they all carry their little trigger bombs?” I asked. One look at his face was enough to give me my answer. “Am I really the only one who didn’t know?”
Martinez sighed, not looking very happy about being busted. “They know, I know. That’s it. We had that talk over at Gerry and Maude’s, after loosing that one college kid the day before because he’d drunk some iced tea, or whatnot. Before I woke you to patch Nate back up. I thought it was one of the most fucked-up ideas I’ve ever heard in my entire life, but they overruled me, as usual. You know how they get. It was actually Bat
es’s idea. He said that it was our responsibility to always have just one more contingency plan.”
“Bates?” I asked, not having to feign surprise.
“I know you two had your differences, and I’m not saying that he was a generally responsible guy,” Martinez clarified. “But he wasn’t afraid to take a fall if he had to. As we all know he did.”
“Needlessly,” I objected.
“That we’ll never know. But yes, I knew. I’m surprised that Nate didn’t tell you.”
“When does he ever?” I grumbled, shaking my head when I saw Martinez gear up to come to Nate’s defense. “Doesn’t matter now. If anything positive comes of all this shit, I think it's that now he’s done not slapping me in the face with the brutal, honest truth.”
Much to my amusement, Martinez grinned at that. “You keep complaining that you want more responsibility. You can’t have it both ways. Either you tough it out, or you let yourself get coddled. We both know what you prefer.”
“Like any of you would dare touch me with kid gloves.”
His grin grew. “We aim to please. Boss.”
That got a glare from me. “Just shut up. I was just thinking how good it is to have you around, but I’m starting to think that I’m delusional.”
“Very well, I can take a hint,” he said, still amused. “I’ll leave you to your sorry excuse of a workout. The guys were saying something about pizza, beer, and bad ‘80s action flicks. I’m sorry to tell you, but that beats your pleasant company.”
I hesitated, but then accepted his invitation. “I’ll drop by later.”
He nodded before he left me to my own devices, my heart just a little lighter than half an hour ago.
Chapter 14
The Silo may have been bursting with people, but up on the second level of the command center, in the very back, it was a relatively quiet evening for us. The pizza didn’t taste like anything—what a surprise—but I still made myself eat two slices of it. The beer I flat-out declined, but Martinez coaxed me into accepting the mashed-apple yogurt that was equally as popular. With the latest influx of people had come some real farmers who not only knew how to herd cows, but also what to make of their produce, bringing such treasures back on the menu. The mention of cows made me remember our glorious mission of herding three of them to one of the settlements—what seemed like a million years ago. I tried keeping to myself but there was always someone who plunked down next to me whenever someone else got up, so I resigned myself to my fate of not stewing in silence the entire evening. As much as the many, many people outside had irritated me, with just the guys around it was a nice evening. Actually, it was great, but I didn’t quite feel like releasing my grudge on life and letting their raucous laughter infect me. There was no need to actively avoid Nate as he kept his distance—something I was grateful for. It wasn’t like I intended to hold a grudge forever, but right now I just couldn’t stomach being close to him. They didn’t say that the road to hell was paved with good intentions for nothing.
Resurgence: Green Fields book 5 Page 15