Green Fields (Book 6): Unity

by Adrienne Lecter

  My pulse was whooshing so loud in my ears that it took me a while to realize that the weird wheezing sound I was hearing underneath were my breaths, coming in ragged intervals as my body was working hard to shake off the shock of having been turned into a pebble rolling down a mountain. Dust was everywhere, making me cough, but even before it started to settle I realized two things.

  One, I was still alive, and while I felt like someone had given me a thorough work-over with a sledgehammer, I seemed to be in one piece.

  Two, I could see rather well, even inside the car, but it wasn’t the steady, harsh glare of artificial light. Something was burning, and judging from the acrid smell in the air, it was the shacks housing the generators.

  As if to underline that guess, an explosion came from somewhere outside—my side, whichever direction that was—close, but not close enough to feel it. As if that had been a cue for my body to get its shit together, I noticed other things. Like that I could easily touch the roof of the car without needing to extend my arm much, making me guess that the descent had done a great job smashing the car. Turning my head toward the window, I could see the normally very sturdy looking support struts of the roll cage that had been installed over the window looking like what remained of a cake smashed by an overenthusiastic toddler. Parts of it had come loose, and I realized I’d been damn lucky none of that had gone straight through my skull, killing me instantly. But that wasn’t what drew my attention. With the dust settling, I could see what was going on outside, and if I’d had the energy, I would have high-fived myself.

  There were rocks and smashed trees everywhere, but even without craning my neck I could see two more cars, both looking more intact than ours. People were crawling from one of the wrecks, quickly securing the site to get their packs. And that was necessary, because all over the debris, shamblers were moving, some dragging their broken bodies forward, but a lot able to still move in a more or less fluid fashion, upright.

  Looked like phase one was working.

  First things first, I swiveled my head to the other side, belatedly chiding myself that I hadn’t checked on Nate yet. He was shaking his head as if to disband confusion, gingerly touching a cut on his chin. His breathing was hard but regular, and when he caught the motion of me turning, he looked my way, eyes clear and focused.

  “Nice that I don’t have to shoot you first,” I offered, my voice scratchy.

  He grinned. “Too bad, I know.” He reached for the snap of his harness, and after some fiddling managed to get it open, ending up crashing down onto the roof of the car in a tangled heap of limbs. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. The zombie right outside my window, drawn by the sound of our voices, gave a roar that might have once been a laugh as well. Good times.

  With not enough room to go for a larger weapon, I fumbled for the holster fixed to the foot room of my seat, pulling my backup—or rather, backup-of-my-backup-of-my-backup—gun out, shooting it straight in the partly smashed face. It disappeared from view, making me guess that I’d killed it. Dropping the gun, I tried to open my own belt harness, but the buckle wouldn’t give. Cursing under my breath, I went for my boot knife, smacking my forehead against the steering wheel in so doing. A clanking sound outside my door made me pause and turn my attention back to my surroundings, silently cursing myself for not having kept the gun in my other hand. I relaxed when my window filled with Burns’s upside-down grin.

  “Need a hand there?” he asked, squinting into what must have been deep darkness for him.

  “Nah, I’m good,” I pressed out when I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the hilt, undoing the snap with my thumb. Coming from the passenger side, I heard Pia briefly check in with Nate, then he was already scrambling through what remained of his side window. The belts finally gave, depositing me on the roof of the car, the previously dropped gun painfully digging into my thigh. I sheathed the knife, and after one last look abandoned my side of the car for Nate’s, not protesting when he reached back in and helped pull me outside.

  I needed a few staggering steps to regain my balance, my body still screwed up from all that tumbling and being thrown this way and that. I slumped back against the Rover’s side, again noticing just how… squished it looked. At least it still had all four wheels, and the gasoline scent in the air was coming from somewhere farther away. I might have given the car a quick pat before I pushed myself upright again, this time to remain on my own two feet, unsupported. Nate was already busy dragging gear and weapons from the car, almost at random throwing things my way. The people I’d seen exit the other cars were gone, but a few more gathered around us, opening a larger perimeter. The zombies mostly ignored them, drawn by the fire, and by the shots that started to ring out with increasing frequency from somewhere to the far left of us.

  Pia smacked me in the shoulder with a MOLLE vest, tearing me out of observation mode. I did a quick check to make sure that my other gear had survived the bumpy car ride from hell, then donned it, shoving magazines everywhere I could fit them. If I’d learned anything from that disaster at the factory, it was that I would never again run out of ammo if I could help it. With the pack strapped on and my weapons—and backups—ready, I felt ridiculously well-prepared for what was to come next.

  The mad dash over to the building next to the burning generator shacks was more of a stagger-and-tumble, seeing as there were rocks and debris everywhere, making it impossible to find sure footing. We had to dispatch a few more shamblers, but those streaming down the ramp the rock slide had created were veering off halfway down, along with the first cars that were braving the descent now that the ground seemed to have settled somewhat. They were those that had been waiting in the valley when we’d charged forward, holding back in the rather likely case that none of us survived the idiotic plan. I doubted they could have made it down had the zombies descended on them, but the shamblers were still so enamored with the spectacle at large that only a couple tried to vault onto the cars.

  There were already five ropes dangling from the flat roof of the building with groups gathered at the bottom, waiting their turn to climb up, but Pia still got a grappling hook ready to throw it up there. On the third try it took, and before I could ask who was going up first, she was at it like a deranged spider monkey, never mind the arsenal she was toting. Turning to Burns, I briefly looked at the load-out bulking me up to the point where I felt ridiculous. How fast things could change. “Any idea how I can move with all that limiting my range of motion?”

  He snorted good-naturedly. “We can always have you go last, tie you to the rope, and haul you up. You have been easing up on your pushups of late from what I can tell; it’s always an option when you don’t have the strength—“

  “Screw you,” I muttered under my breath as I made a grab for the rope, forcing Nate to step back and wait his turn. Not too wise a decision, it turned out, as I could have likely gleaned some hints from watching him, but after a few false starts I managed to secure the rope between my feet as I continued to pull myself up. The rest was just gritting teeth and working burning muscles that, I had to admit, had seen somewhat more training last year. Well, that was something I might concern myself with next week, but first we had to survive the night.

  Someone was nice enough to haul me up the last feet onto the roof. I took a moment to get my bearings, finding around twenty people already waiting up here, with about just as many still on their way up. The flickering light of the fires down below didn’t do much to illuminate the roof, but someone had flashlights out and were working on the covers for the ventilation shafts. From up here, the rock slide we’d produced looked less massive, but it was hard to miss the two cars that had been squashed by huge boulders and trees respectively. Following the stream of cars and shamblers, I found most of them piling up in the middle of the base, between the main gate and barracks, where the advance had ground to a halt, but not before helping two of the other incursion groups to tear down the fence and let them inside. Chaos ruled down
there, and not for the first time I wondered how people were going to decide between friend or foe when half of their targets still had working brains. But wasn’t that part of why we were here?

  My musing got cut short when Nate reached the roof and I fell in step beside him as he walked over to the group that had successfully dismantled the vent covers. “Where’s the bag?” he asked Pia, who dutifully produced a small jute bag filled with poker chips. “Anyone not happy with the team they draw, you can switch with someone once.” Without further ado, people started getting out the chips. I wasn’t surprised that seconds after I pulled out a yellow one, Burns did the same.

  “Figures,” I muttered. When Collins produced a yellow one as well, I knew that somehow they’d managed to rig them. Nate gave me a mirthless grin, flipping his red chip between his fingers. I chuffed, turning away to glance at the blueprints Aimes had left with us to make sure I remembered well enough which route to take. Part of me still expected the vents to be full of laser traps or old-fashioned blades that would turn us into dog food in seconds, but no one else voiced similar complaints, so far was it from me to do so.

  “I’m going first,” I announced to the group of people that had started gathering around me, half of them already pocketing their chips as if they were good luck charms. One of the rather burly guys in the back opened his mouth as if to protest, but I didn’t let it get to that. “I’m smaller than all of you so I run the least risk of getting stuck in there. And if anyone else has stellar low-light vision, please, step forward. I’m happy to stare at your ass for the next minutes until we reach one of the entry points.” Surprisingly, that settled things.

  The remaining climbers joined us, and Nate took a last look around his gathered force. “Blue leader will go first.” He nodded at Pia. “Yellow is second, then red, and green will bring up the rear. You all know your objectives?”

  A woman from the green group answered. “Suppress defenses and open the doors downstairs. Got it.”

  Nate nodded. “With luck, the other incursion groups will already be working their way into the building, but it doesn’t hurt to make it impossible for the fuckers inside to ambush them. Shoot to kill. We can always debate about leaving prisoners after we’ve secured the building, not before.”

  Turning to Burns, I grimaced. “I haven’t heard any explosions after the generators went up. Doesn’t sound like the others are making progress.”

  I got a shrug back from him. “As long as the undead fuckers keep additional troops from the barracks away and everyone occupied outside of the armory, that should be the same.” I doubted that less than fifty people would be enough to take over the main compound but didn’t voice my concerns.

  “Any questions?” When no one spoke up, Nate turned toward the vents. “Good luck everyone. Let’s show these assholes how much fun it is to wake up to finding the enemy has snuck straight into the center of your base.” I felt like objecting that bringing down half a mountain wasn’t exactly what most people would consider sneaking, but far was it from me to bicker. Nate glanced my way, looking surprised at my lack of objection, but rather than break my resolution I shoved a protein bar into my mouth and chewed noisily. My knees were still a little shaky and my stomach upset from our descent, but my body must have been burning fuel faster than it could provide it, so I might as well help it along while I could.

  Pia disappeared into the ventilation shaft after switching the flashlight attached to her headband on, the people of her group following when she gave them the go over the com channel. Then it was my turn, and I trudged toward the opening without much enthusiasm. I remembered my last time crawling through the ducts all too well, and that hadn’t been with bulky gear weighing about half as much as I did. Yet with fifteen people already gone, I couldn’t very well balk now. Flashing Nate a last smile, I heaved myself through the opening, hoping against hope that this time no one would manage to shoot me out of the ceiling.

  Chapter 26

  Twenty minutes of dust, twists, and turns later, any way of getting out where my world wasn’t dark, dank, and claustrophobic seemed welcome to me. That I got turned around twice, even with a good memory of the blueprints, didn’t help. I banged my elbows and knees more times than I cared for, and no less than three of my people got stuck at turns, two at the same one. In theory, using the duct system had been a good idea, but I started to see why Burns in particular hadn’t been thrilled. It was when after yet another change in direction I heard him curse softly behind me that I decided that this had been going on long enough. The sheer racket we caused about did away with the stealth factor, anyway. The two times we’d traversed a room already filling with zombies a good portion of them had been staring at the ceiling, transfixed. If they could put two and two together, so could the soldiers we were trying to deceive for now. The next vent I reached, I eased open, sticking my head out after hearing nothing below me. I could barely make out that it was a corridor, but that was it. Grumbling, I got my flashlight out of my vest, nearly having to dislocate my shoulder to get that arm through the opening. The corridor was still abandoned, with no debris or blood anywhere, and luckily also devoid of anyone trying to shoot at me. The small cone of light passed over a sign at the intersection close by, making me utter a low, “Bingo!” under my breath. A little shimmying forward and back, and I was dangling out of the hole in the ceiling, managing a quiet, sure drop. I did my best to secure the intersection while the rest of my group joined me, then picked out Burns and Collins from the gathered people. “You two are with me. The rest of you, proceed toward forward point five. That should be about a hundred yards past the door over there.”

  “You’re not coming with us, Yellow Leader?” the guy who’d been about to speak up on the roof chuffed, but looked ready to hide when he caught my glare in the gloom outside of the flashlight cones.

  “Believe it or not, some detours are worth it,” I snapped. “Besides, it’s going to be a short one. Secure the point, then advance to the next. We will catch up with you there, or join one of the other teams. If you find a shortcut down to the main level, take it. The sooner we get more undead in here, the better.”

  Burns and Collins followed me as I set out in the opposite direction, going back the way we had come. About two hundred feet later I switched off my flashlight when I realized I could see in the gloom without it. We were definitely heading in the right direction.

  “What do you want with the labs?” Burns asked, correctly guessing my detour’s destination. Of course there were no “labs be here” signs posted along the way, but I knew what the orange “B29” section had been standing for in the blueprints. Or he simply remembered from back when he’d gotten inoculated with the serum there, which, I guessed, was more likely.

  “Just curious, is all,” I offered, signaling him and Collins to turn off their lights as well. My eyes needed only a few moments to adjust to the red gloom getting brighter ahead of us. Emergency lighting, because if there was one part of your secret base that you wanted to keep supplied with power, it was the labs with the freezers where you stored your precious biological weapons.

  We traversed one more corridor—down which I could hear something drag in the darkness but ignored it for now—until we reached the familiar-looking fire security doors beyond which I knew the lab space was. Somehow, even secret military bases adhered to the same regulations where biohazard safety was concerned. My hyped-up brain found that rather funny, so it came that I stormed into the next room with a rather savage grin on my face. The sudden, harsh light in the white-tiled room beyond made me squint, but judging from the stricken look on the two scientists’ faces that didn’t disband the effect completely.

  “Paws up if you wanna live,” I barked, noting with satisfaction that they obeyed without me having to shoot one of them first. At the signal with my M4 they both stepped over to the wall, away from their workstations. The room was a—for me—rather uncomfortable mix of my best-of memories, reminding me both of my w
orkspace back at the Green Fields Biotech lab, and the underground complex where Taggard had done his best to provide me with nightmares to last me six lifetimes. The latter might have been due to the evenly spaced cells that made up the entire back wall of the lab, beyond the workstations and freezer banks.

  Turning back to the scientists after scrutinizing the setup, I did my best to smile amicably at them. “I guess it’s too much to ask that you give me all the doses of the serum that you’re still hiding in here?” The liquid nitrogen tanks were my best guess, but if I could avoid having to look through boxes and boxes of badly labeled samples, I’d be much obliged.

  The younger of the scientists, a guy about my age with a somewhat outgrown buzzcut, just stared mutely at me, more perplexed than hostile, while his older colleague shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  Pursing my lips, I sauntered a few steps closer. “Don’t make me persuade you. I bet you know who I am, so you know what I’m capable of.”

  I wouldn’t have bet on that working as far as intimidation went, but the scientist did an impressive job at blanching, his raised hands shaking slightly. “It’s not that we don’t want to cooperate,” he insisted. “There are no doses of the serum left.”

  I was ready to call his bluff but he looked rather convincing. Just to be sure, I walked over to the tanks, quickly scanning the entries in the binders stashed next to them. I had a hard time remembering the exact numbers of the virus versions from Raleigh Miller’s documentation, but then I didn’t need to. I found the right combination of letters and numbers over and over in the sheets—crossed out, with dates ranging back from several years ago until seven months back. Frowning, I dropped my carbine onto its sling so I had both hands free to unscrew the top of one of the tanks. As I pulled out the rack inside, careful not to slosh liquid nitrogen everywhere, I found not only the tank half empty, but also only the lowest two racks filled. None of the labels on the vials inside matched anything I could remember.