Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 2 | Books 4-6

by Lecter, Adrienne

  I rolled my eyes at him, but when no one else spoke up, I let out my breath in a rush.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just because those cowardly fucktards believe…” I trailed off, then started anew. “I made the right decision. I don’t regret it. I just really wanted a bath, is all. Happy now? I’m throwing a temper tantrum like a small child because I feel gross.”

  I got grins and the odd chuckle, but Martinez didn’t let me get away with that.

  “You’re not the only one who feels like that. Except for the bath, maybe. I’m not sure that standard of hygiene has made the rounds yet. I wouldn’t call it outright betrayal—“

  Bailey interrupted him, not quite incidentally scratching his neck. “Coming close enough to it as it is,” he offered. A few supportive murmurs rose.

  Martinez stared at the fire for a few seconds before he glanced back to me. “Call it whatever you wish. We all feel it. You just have the added benefit of having had another option that none of us had.”

  “You could have stayed,” I replied. “You knew a couple of the guys who were doing guard duty there.”

  “And spend the rest of my life hunkering behind a wall, knowing each and every day that if that wall comes down, we’re all dead? No, thanks. I’d rather take my chances out here,” Martinez said. His usual easy smile resurfaced. “Besides, couldn’t stare at Burns’s ass if I remained behind. My life would be so empty.”

  That got the laughs it deserved, and for whatever reason, it made me feel just a little better. As did Burns’s not exactly gentle slap on the back, offered with a low, “You’ll get over it.” He was right. I would. Still sucked to be me right now. Or us.

  Feeling like I deserved another snack, I got up and walked the short distance to my car, nodding at Clark in passing who was on sentry duty. In the gloom of dusk it was impossible to see what I was doing, but I knew all those stacks and containers by heart. After securing everything once I had my chunk of bread, I lingered for a moment. Rather than close everything back up, I slid behind the wheel and turned the radio back on. We’d disconnected the transponder after leaving New Town again, essentially taking us off the grid, but out of paranoia I usually hooked up the radio to one of our spare batteries over night. If anything happened, at least we wouldn’t have to fumble in the dark to get that working. The green light that showed that the unit was operational was glowing faintly, as usual. But what wasn’t usual was that the red one right next to it was coming on and off. I hadn’t known it could do that. Usually it was either on or off, depending on whether we were sending or not.

  “Nate? Can you come over for a sec?” I called into the darkness, just loud enough to carry over to the others. A chorus of laughs and catcalls answered me, making me sigh with exasperation—as if I’d want to rut around in the car if I could avoid it—but the man in question leaned in on his side a few moments later.

  “You called, milady?”

  I stared at him, sure that in the murky darkness of the interior that was completely lost on him.

  “Do we have a manual for this thing?” I asked, pointing at the radio. “That red light—“

  “Shouldn’t be on,” he agreed with me, sliding into his seat, shutting the door behind him. That got us a few more whoops, particularly when I shut mine as well. Nate flashed me a grin, but reached for the radio rather than me. “Only one way to find out, right?”

  Static filled the car the moment he switched to a working frequency, making me tense, if not quite jump. Then Tamara’s voice filled the car, her usually easy-going tone clipped. Not good.

  “…Repeat, we have a streak warning for northern Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. If you’re anywhere in the region, either get the hell out of there or seek shelter. At least two groups have gone dark on us already. We don’t want to make it a third. Stay safe, guys and dolls. We still need you.”

  That was ominous enough to make my light unease compact to a solid ball of lead in my stomach.

  “I presume she’s not talking about someone running around the countryside naked,” I said.

  Nate shrugged and reached for the mic, switching to the direct, private channel to Dispatch. “Dispatch, this is Thirteen Alpha, do you copy?”

  It only took a moment for Tamara’s voice to fill the car, making me guess that we’d tuned into a live broadcast, not just one of the recorded bulletins they sometimes had going when no one was manning the station.

  “Nate, that you?”

  “In the flesh,” he confirmed. “Bree’s here, too. Wouldn’t be flirting on the com with you without her present.”

  Tamara laughed, although it carried a noticeable hitch. “Oh, sugar, of course you wouldn’t. What’s up? You guys still trolling Nebraska for underwear catalogs? Just saying, that’s been a running joke for days.” She was, of course, referring to our most nefarious if useless bounty that we’d liberated at that mall we’d hit earlier this week. Never mind the tons of outdoor gear, batteries, and three entire trash bags filled with medicine—it was the pamphlets that Nate had pilfered while I’d been on the lookout for new panties that had half the com network in fits for days.

  “Yeah, not quite,” he said, smiling. “Why is our radio blinking at us, and what’s a streak warning?”

  Her pause was long enough to make me want to check the batteries. “You guys don’t know? Shit. Completely forgot that those sitting ducks usually don’t give you the full briefing. Told you, you should swing by our base soon so you get the real deal. Anyway. Your radio was flashing because I pushed out an emergency bulletin. You can’t shut those off. As soon as you hook up into the network, you’ll get the alert.” She cleared her throat. “A streak is what we’re calling those streams of zombies. When they move together as a bulk, several hundreds to thousands strong. I’m sure you’ve seen the path of destruction they cut through whatever is in their way?”

  “Streak,” I confirmed, leaning closer to Nate so the mic would pick up my voice. “We’ve seen a couple, but so far no group that large on the move.” Except, that wasn’t quite true. “Where exactly did you say that group was moving that you were talking about? Because we almost tripped over a smaller group of squatters in southern Iowa today that could have been the last of one of those, or at least an offshoot or something.”

  Tamara cursed under her breath before she replied. “We have a few on the move but only one’s started going north. The entire south’s been teeming with the undead all winter long, but until two weeks ago they seemed happy to stay there. Yet the rising temperatures—“ She cut herself off there. “We’ve had a couple reports of a larger group aiming northeast. Actually two of them, merging. One went by Tulsa, the other through Fort Smith and Fayetteville, picking up stragglers along the way. We’ve got another confirmed sighting between Joplin and Springfield, but the group that reported that didn’t stay around long enough to get a good head count. We expected that they would remain close to the interstates and head for St. Lewis, but three days ago we got another sighting north of Jefferson City, so they must have crossed the Missouri River around there. We haven’t heard from one of the settlements in the Ozarks for a week, and just an hour ago the other Missouri town, Harristown, has gone dark. They’ve had issues with their generators so it could be just that, but—“

  Nate finished that sentence for her. “But it’s too much of a coincidence not to be cautious.”

  Tamara offered an affirmative grunt. “Sure enough. Where did you say you saw those squatters?”

  Nate already had the maps out, tracing the way she’d described, then pointed at where we’d gone on the most amateurish cattle raid of all times. “About thirty miles west of I-35 where it runs from Bethany up to Des Moines, maybe twenty miles into Iowa. Where’s that settlement?” Just because it had a name that we might find on the map didn’t mean that it had to be the same. “New Town” certainly hadn’t had that name before, but I hadn’t paid attention to any old signs around that hadn’t been overpainted yet.

&nb
sp; “It’s straight north in the middle of Kansas City and Columbia, in the middle of nowhere. Roughly same longitude as Des Moines.” The radio picked up the rustling of maps as she must have been looking at hers, too. “Not that far from where you saw those zombies. Shit.” And that streak had been coming from the southeast. “You guys still in the region?”

  “Further west,” I said, not without a hint of relief.

  “Why were you even over there?” Then she remembered. “Did you call in this morning about the cattle for New Town?”

  “Yeah, that,” I grumbled, closing my eyes for a moment to swallow my resentment. “Turns out that was kind of a bust.”

  “Zombies ate all the beef?” Tamara guessed, not without humor in her voice.

  “Not quite,” I started, but Nate cut me off.

  “Only one, as far as we know. The cow that Bree rear-ended because she almost missed the road.”

  I took a moment to stare at Nate. “You’re such an asshole, you know that? If I hadn’t slammed into that damn cow the zombies would have swarmed us instead, and last time I checked that’s not part of our objective.”

  Tamara laughed softly, but it was a strained one. “You got away clean?”

  Nate was faster than me again. “Not exactly. I spent an hour scraping cow gore and zombie gunk off the car.”

  “While I was out on a scouting mission and thankfully didn’t get eaten by shamblers,” I pointed out.

  “We're such an emancipated couple,” he snarked. “I think I need to check if my balls are still attached. Yup, here they are.”

  My grunt forestalled any further comment, but any mirth I might have felt at our banter dissipated when I got the conversation back on track. “We got three cows and brought them to New Town, but they didn’t let us in. They tried to sell us some bullshit about already having two scavenger groups in there, but I doubt that was the real reason.”

  “Shit,” Tamara succinctly agreed with me, her sigh loud enough that the mic picked it up.

  “Let me ask you something,” Nate cut in. “Any chance you’re gonna tell us what the 'Z' at the very end of our group code stands for?” Her momentary silence was answer enough. “Thought so.”

  “It gets even better,” Tamara said. “All settlements are under strict orders to let anyone in when we are sending out an alert.”

  “And that’s been active for a while now?” I guessed.

  “Since last week. Didn’t strictly include Iowa yet, but they knew it was coming.”

  I shared a look with Nate, but it was pointless to continue ranting about this. At least the vague sense of betrayal solidified into anger now. That was something. Not that it helped me, at all. Nate kept watching me for a few seconds before he gazed out into the darkness.

  “We should be good where we are right now. You’ll keep us updated if you hear anything new?”

  “Yup,” Tamara agreed. “Not that we have many eyes and ears out there right now. You’ll likely know way ahead of us if anything changes.”

  “Just peachy,” I grumbled, then continued on louder. “Thanks, Tamara. We’ll sign in again if we have more info. Not that we’ll go seek it.”

  We signed off, but left the radio hooked up to the spare battery. I would have likely remained in the car a little longer, but Nate gave me a pointed nudge. “Out. I know exactly what you need right now.”

  I snorted. “If you say sex, I’m going to hurt you. Then we can continue the conversation about you and your balls.”

  He laughed as he got out. “Fat chance. You’re up for a double guard shift tonight. First round now, second your usual morning round.”

  “How’s that fair? I already ran for hours while you were sitting around, lazing in the sun,” I complained, although I knew better. Getting out, I made sure that the door was closed before I walked around the car to join Nate.

  “Yeah, and you’ll spend at least another hour bitching around, if not out loud, then inside your head, so you won’t sleep. Might as well put that to good use and let someone else get some rest. And we both know that you never sleep in.” That was true. Since losing Bates to the cannibals that had solidified into a solid four-hour-maximum downtime that my brain allowed me—at best. Still didn’t mean that I liked to spend the remaining hours of my night time standing around, staring off into the darkness.

  Burns usually had the second shift, and I didn’t mind hanging out with him. Not that I got much chance for talking during watch, when keeping quiet was kind of a thing. Yet rather than Burns, Nate joined me as I started my first perimeter walk outside of the ring of cars, well away from the dying embers that would have shot my night vision to hell. I only paused for a moment, waiting for an explanation, but when that didn’t come I continued the circuit. We didn’t spend that much time around each other outside of the cars, seeing as we were locked in together for hours each day, but tonight I didn’t mind the company.

  The others went to sleep one by one, mostly retreating into the cars, with the odd sleeping bag between them. Nate had been right, of course—I was still wide awake halfway into my two-hour shift, my mind a long way from shutting down for the night. The business with the streaks should have scared me into permanent alertness, but it was more confirmation than a new threat. We’d seen the signs. We’d heard enough people mentioning how bad it must have been in the warmer states over the winter. Now all that came back to bite us—if we weren’t careful, literally so. But that was nothing new. Ever since the virus had wiped out most of humanity, staying ahead of the curve and learning to adapt had been what kept me—us—alive. No, it was that other thing that ate away at me, making my teeth hurt with how hard I was clamping my jaws together. And it wasn’t just the fact that the good people of New Town had left us out here to die.

  “I botched that deal badly, didn’t I?” I asked when next Nate and I passed each other. He looked around, then switched directions so he was walking with me, his tone hushed but clear as he replied.

  “You mean because all we got was that stew? The bread was good.”

  I shook my head. “You know that’s not the part I mean. I should have forced them to take us in. Or at the very least give us the ammo they have to provide us with. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t chew me out because I completely forgot about that.”

  Seconds passed before he replied. “I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re getting at. I could have said something, too. And, for the record, I doubt that you could have made them do anything except shoot you.”

  That statement made me chuckle—not the healthiest reaction. “You’re not? Why not? Normally you’re all about people not neglecting their duties.”

  “Do you feel like you neglected yours?” he asked.

  “You could have helped. I know you said that this is my thing now, but I didn’t expect you to just sit there like a mute.”

  “I did some impressive posing, too,” he reminded me. I could hear the smile in his voice, and for a moment it broke through my doom and gloom mood, yet it was a fleeting feeling.

  “Still. I could have handled that better.”

  Nate took his time answering, and when he did, his voice was surprisingly soft. “Not that I delude myself into believing that you care what I think, but if you asked me, I’d say you did a good job.” When I just stared back, he let out something between a grunt and a snort. “Sure, you could have haggled with them, but they didn’t strike me as the kind of town that could spare even a pistol or magazine. Food, maybe, and I wouldn’t have minded shelter for a night, but beyond that? Just because we have the right to take something doesn’t mean that we have to always demand it.”

  I mulled that over for half a circuit.

  “They really left us out here to die.” He nodded, but what the moonlight let me see of his face, Nate didn’t look particularly concerned or surprised. “Do you think I’m making too much of a fuss over this?”

  I got a shrug for that. “Guess the difference is that I’m used to this
by now. You’re not. Only thing that gets to me is that I got you in the situation where you now have to learn all those many great life lessons I’ve been dealing with for the past decade.”

  Guilt—even if it was just a thread—I hadn’t expected from him. My silence seemed to shout that plain and clear, prompting a small but hard laugh from him.

  “Have I ever told you why I signed up for the army?” he asked a while later.

  “I think you mentioned something about raining down mayhem on your enemies or something,” I teased.

  I could tell from the set of his jaw that he didn’t appreciate that, but he didn’t correct me outright. “Sure, I wanted to fight. Be a man, defend my country. Bash in the skulls of infidels.” The pause that followed was a heavy one. “That only carries you so far. Usually your first fight. When you’re crouching somewhere, so afraid you can’t even think, you have to face that ideology isn’t that good a motivator. Then you learn that there’s something else that drives you. You have to face the kind of person you are. Do you do it because it’s the one occasion where you can sate that need to kill? Does being a hero, not just for pretense, make your day? Do you realize that you have special skills that would otherwise go wasted but in war, you can save people, keep them from ever having to face something like this? I always thought the former were what motivates me, but the longer I’ve been around, the more I realize that there’s a part of me that is altruistic. Caring, even.”

  “A small part, right?” I offered, unable not to joke.

  As intended, that made him smirk at me. “Don’t get me wrong. I did a lot of shit that should have earned me a bullet right between the eyes. And I can’t even say I’m sorry for half of it. But I didn’t rise through the ranks because I was a mindless killer. Those usually take care of themselves when they get too cocky. The longer I was around, the more I realized that I could make a difference. I could win a fight others would lose more often than not. When my brother died, that was the only thing that kept me going—until the doubt got too much and I just had to quit.”