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

by Lecter, Adrienne

  “Kinda nice?” I echoed. “Maybe I should look into how to get this marriage of ours annulled. You’re just so much more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “I’ll remind you of that next time you need me for some menial task,” he offered, dropping the bottle and maps in my lap. And off we went.

  I tried to hold on to the momentary feeling of levity that our banter had instated, but soon ended up more or less cowering in my seat. It was hot as hell, even with the windows down, and the glare of the sunlight was barely tolerable. Even with my boonie hat pulled deep into my face and the glasses pressed as close to my nose as they would get it was still way too bright out there for me to see anything beyond vague shapes. I thought that Nate glanced at me often, worry firmly etched into his features, but I couldn’t be sure. At least the splitting headache I got distracted me from the ounces of tears that ran down my face. Under different circumstances I might have been embarrassed, but I was way beyond that. At least not having to use my legs meant that my thigh could recover somewhat, even if it still hurt from last night’s abuse.

  It was about thirty minutes into our ride when he suddenly stopped the car, then reversed and backed into a field, stopping behind two trees that were conveniently standing beside the road. At first I thought he’d simply given up on watching me dissolve into liquids, but when he got out, his binoculars at the ready, I couldn’t help but wonder what made him look so tense. I waited for a few seconds until my vision somewhat normalized before I followed. He was standing beside my door, staring over the rolling plains toward the horizon.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t react at first, but then handed me the binoculars. “See that rise over there? Leading back the way we’ve come. Do you see the plume of dust?”

  I didn’t see anything, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise. It took a lot of blinking and wiping away residual moisture before I could focus on that hill he’d referred to. I was just about to hand back the glasses when I noticed that the air above part of the rise was hazy.

  “A group of cars?” I guessed, checking once more before I let him have his fancy tool again.

  “I think so,” he replied. “Could be a stampede of cows, too, but I doubt it. Zombies wouldn’t be stirring up that much dust.”

  It could have been our streak, hungering for beef once more, but I had to agree—that cloud seemed to be shifting, faster than even a super-charged zombie could run cross-country.

  “Should we try to hail them?” I said, more wondering aloud than actually asking.

  Nate hesitated, that in and of itself alarming me. “Let’s not,” he suggested. “Actually, let’s not let them know that we’re here. Although I’m afraid that it’s already too late for that.”

  “You think they came after us?”

  He shrugged. “They’re certainly honing in on where we were when we placed that call. Call me paranoid, but isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

  “But why now?” I asked. “We stayed at the motel for over a week. They could have hunted us down way easier there. And you did talk to Sunny from there, right?”

  Nate gave me a quizzical look. “Campbell may or may not have set up a signal scrambler while we were clearing the building. There was no time to get it when we had to flee.”

  Now didn’t that sound promising?

  “Shit.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up at my exclamation. “At least now we know—or as good as know—that the channels aren’t safe.”

  “You think it’s someone at the Silo who ratted us out?” I asked, really not liking those implications. Not feeling safe out here was one thing—but not knowing who else to trust made me a different kind of antsy.

  Nate shook his head. “No. But I think the network is compromised. Let’s try not to test this until we’re close enough to where they can’t just pick us up off the road and make us disappear for good.”

  A sobering thought, as if I’d needed any more of those.

  We kept watching the plume of dust disappear in the distance before we got back into the car and continued on, this time heading north. Nate debated taking a greater detour, but it wasn’t like it was hard to get lost in rural Minnesota. It was likely a good idea not to take the most direct route, so that’s what we decided on.

  Nate took pity on me once the sun was close to setting—or maybe he figured that by then I was moderately useful again. With paranoia riding shotgun, we hadn’t really made a lot of headway since noon, and the house we ended up selecting for our nightly stay was so well hidden that we only chanced upon it because we were trying to avoid coming too close to the next larger road. I got out with Nate, supposedly for backup, but it took almost my entire strength to remain upright, my shotgun ready. If I’d actually had to use it, it would likely have kicked the living shit out of me, and that without me hitting anything in the first place. The house was empty, looking deserted even before the shit had hit the fan. A summer cabin, likely, with the owners finding their end someplace else. There wasn’t much loot to be found for that very same reason, but we didn’t need much. The sack of rice and canned beans that we happened upon in the pantry were more than sufficient for our dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. There were even some spices in a small cupboard, a rare treat on the road.

  While Nate dragged the mattress off the bed in the other room to get it into the front one—better exit possibilities, and we could keep an eye on the car—I busied myself cooking dinner over our small camping stove. I still managed to burn the rice but Nate didn’t protest, spooning up his portion with gusto. I waited until mine had cooled a little before I dug in—and stopped once I forced the first, bland mouthful down. When I kept glaring at the still steaming bowl, Nate nudged my knee with his. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I finally get why that tuna was so god-awful,” I replied. “That fucking virus fried my sense of taste.”

  Nate kept on chewing, even if somewhat pensively. “That shit is spicy hot. If you can’t define exactly what it tastes like, that might be the culprit.”

  I looked from my bowl to him. “It tastes like bland dough. Like nothing. I feel the texture of the rice and beans, but that’s about it. Nothing hot, spicy, or anything. Could be soggy cardboard, too.”

  He continued to frown, not that it kept him from eating. “Maybe we should hunt something so you can try some raw, bloody meat?”

  I wasn’t sure whether he was joking, but it didn’t matter. “Ha, ha, very funny. It’s not that I’d rather eat anything else. And I can still smell how this should taste. It’s actually not bad. But the moment it hits my tongue—nada. Don’t ask me how that works.” Actually, I had an idea, if a very vague one.

  “You still have to eat something, even if it tastes like nothing,” he insisted. “Aren’t you hungry? I feel like there’s a hole left where my stomach used to be.”

  I tried to listen to what my body was demanding, but I was neither hungry nor thirsty. “Not really.”

  He paused, then put down his bowl in favor of checking our water bottles, coming up with a succinct, “Shit.” Next, he plunked down one of them in front of me. “Here, drink that. As in, empty it.”

  “Right now? I’m really not—“

  His exasperated sigh made me halt and sip a few mouthfuls, but not particularly enthusiastically.

  “Bree, it’s a million degrees out there during the day. You’re sweating, and you’re also leaking fluid from your eyes that you need to replenish as well.” Reaching over, he checked my forehead, his hand somewhat cooler than my skin. “No fever, but you’re not cool. I think you’re already starting to get seriously dehydrated. Drink. Eat. If I have to, I’ll start keeping lists.”

  It was mostly the concern in his tone that made me chug down some more water before I went back to poking around the rice bowl, forcing myself to ingest it, one agonizingly bland bite at a time. By the time I was done, Nate had polished off two more bowls, leaving nothing in the makeshift pot, not
even the burnt rice that had been sticking to the bottom. I knew that I should have felt at least moderately satiated now, but nothing seemed different from when I’d been practically famished.

  “Well, this sucks,” I summed up my glum thoughts. “So far this surviving death thing is highly overrated.”

  Nate looked less than happy but gave a playful snort at that. “Oh, come on. Could be worse.”

  “Yeah, I could have woken up with your sense of humor,” I replied. “I think I’ll take tasteless food over that.”

  “Let’s just hope that it didn’t kill your sex drive, because your company is hard to suffer at best with you putting out. Without that…” He trailed off, giving me a suggestive look, but when I just stared back he visibly deflated. “Too soon?” he guessed, sounding a little chagrined.

  “Nah, I was just wondering,” I mused. “If I can actually no longer taste anything, that means that your spunk might finally, for the first time ever, be something less than absolutely repulsive. See, there’s a bright side to everything.”

  His answering bark of laughter made me grin as I crawled over to our makeshift bed. “Give me a few more days,” I said. “When I’m no longer feeling like my body’s trying to self-destruct. And we should maybe pick up condoms along the way.” His eyes narrowed, and I didn’t miss the look of sadness in them before he got a grip on himself. Scoffing, I shook my head. “I’m not stupid. I doubt that after this shit going down I can get pregnant again. But there’s that whole trying not to introduce infection thing, and until I know for a fact that I can’t infect you, I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  That was about as far as I got. The next moment, he was over me, leaning in for a deep, lingering kiss that certainly involved tongue. And saliva. I tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge. When he finally pulled back, my head was spinning a little, proving once more that I really wasn’t up for anything yet. Smirking, he plonked down on his side next to me.

  “See, now we’ll know,” he joked before he got serious again. “I’ve been bitten by zombies. I doubt that kissing you can get any worse than that.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. But sure, we’ll get condoms. But not because I’m afraid I’ll catch anything from you.” He paused, checking the time. “I’ll take first watch. I’ll wake you up when I get too tired to be of any use anymore.” Which would likely mean that I would get to sleep through the night. I was tempted to protest, but ended up nodding before I curled up on my side.

  Exhaustion made it easy to tune out my thoughts, unpleasant as they got as soon as my mind started to shut down. I had too much to think about, and none of it pleasant.

  “Nate?” I asked into the gloomy darkness when sleep just wouldn’t come.

  I saw him tense where he’d taken up position next to one of the windows. “I’m here.”

  “Yeah, I can see you,” I teased, but it came out hollow. “Do you really think they’re out there, hunting for us?”

  His answering silence was more than I wanted to hear. “I’d love to say that it isn’t so, but honestly, after that hit at the factory I’m willing to believe anything,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it. The only reason they managed to pin us down was because they led us straight into a well-planned and executed trap. Now the only thing they know is where we were hours ago, and where we might drop by in a week or so. Remember how paranoid Wilkes and his guys were, even before that? I’d bet my life on the fact that in the meantime, they’ve turned their entire backyard into a gauntlet that’s virtually impenetrable. And we won’t make the same mistakes again.” He laughed softly. “Besides, they couldn’t catch us when you were driving like a maniac, high out of your mind. I think that sober and careful, we’re virtually invincible.”

  That I wasn’t so sure of, but his confidence helped ease my nerves somewhat.

  “Sleep,” he said, smiling. “Tomorrow everything will be just a little better. Trust me, it always is.”

  Chapter 7

  Things weren’t exactly rosy when I woke up again, but Nate had been right—getting some quality rest helped. It was still dark outside but through the window I could see the sky start to lighten. Nate was leaning against the wall next to the other window, like a statue. A somewhat unkempt, not exactly fresh-smelling statue that tried hard to stifle a yawn. I allowed myself another moment of letting my sluggish mind come alive before I sat up and pushed myself to my feet. After staying still for so long my muscles were sore and stiff, but I was slowly approaching feeling-alive territory. He watched me as I stretched, then sauntered over to him, peering around him into the yard.

  “All quiet?”

  He nodded. “As backwater regions go, this one’s really deserted.”

  “Makes one wonder why we bothered going as far as Wyoming for the winter,” I mused.

  Nate only had an ambivalent shrug for me. “What would we have done without the, what was it, one hundred and twenty glasses of applesauce?”

  “Fifteen,” I corrected. “And yes, of course. Winter would have been so dull without that.” I had to admit that I could do with some applesauce now. Then I realized that if my sense of taste was really as fried as I thought it was, I’d never again taste applesauce. Or bacon. That thought made me grumble obscenities under my breath, prompting a tired laugh from Nate. “Why don’t you catch some shut-eye?” I suggested. “I can take it from here. Particularly if all it takes is to stand around uselessly and try not to die of boredom.”

  A muscle in his cheek jumped, making me wonder what had prompted that, but it was an understatement to say that we were both rather touchy right now.

  “Wake me once the sun gets too bright for you,” he murmured, then paused to lightly brush his lips against my cheek. He was past me, dropping his assault rifle, before I could decide on how to react. I watched him as he stretched out on the mattress and was out cold within moments. Under different circumstances I would have felt bad about not pulling my own weight, but considering that it already felt like a feat to do anything that went beyond not moving, I decided to give myself a pass. Less than a week had passed since I’d woken up from what should have been my deathbed. If there ever was a time to cut myself some slack, it was now.

  Standing watch used to be a part of my daily life that I actually liked. It made me feel productive on those days when there really wasn’t anything to do. It gave me time to reflect on things without my mind going off on weird tangents. When there was a perimeter to guard, it was that low-level kind of exercise that worked wonders to get the kinks out of my spine and shoulders that driving all day long usually left.

  Now it was a new kind of torment.

  Maybe it would have been better if I’d had more than ten steps to pace, and that over floorboards that creaked loud enough that I soon stopped, trying not to wake Nate up in the process. As nice as being uninterrupted was, the level of boredom associated with it was dangerously high. And to top it all off, every time I shifted—and often enough when I kept still—I felt the various aches of my body. A twinge here, a light throbbing there, making it impossible to ignore for a moment that, try as I might pretend, I was not okay. And that was just physically speaking. Mentally? “Bleak” was the most positive I could manage right now.

  The sun slowly rose, forcing me to step away from the open window and into the perpetual shade of the room. Even that warm first light of day was enough to be annoying, but at least there was a window not facing east at the other side of the room that I could pull back to. That was one problem I really didn’t know how to handle. My thigh would heal, as would my now-useless reproductive organs. The muscles that had started to waste away in my one week of inactivity and sickness could be bulked up again, and I was sure that I would soon run and squat again without issues. But the sun? Even with all manners of shade-throwing apparel and sunglasses I would always remain helpless if for some reason I lost them. And then what? I was screwed. And there was no telling if continued exposu
re to that bright glare would ruin my eyesight rapidly. There was still hope that the sensitivity wasn’t permanent, but I doubted that it would decrease much over time, unless I was going blind. Just great.

  I would have loved to give Nate some more rest, but by nine I just couldn’t stand it anymore. Half an hour later, we were back on the road, besting another awfully hot day. We crashed in a barn to weather out the worst of the noon heat, then resumed our trek in the afternoon. All day long Nate kept urging me to drink more, until I was ready to pelt him with the empty water bottles that started piling up in my leg space. I still wasn’t hungry, but before long I heard Nate’s stomach growl, making it obvious that food was a necessity rather than an option. We decided to stop for the night about an hour before sundown, searching for another abandoned if mostly untouched home. Only this time we were out of luck. Four of the houses we tried were infested with squatters—of the undead kind—and several more raided down to broken furniture used for cooking fires. The only thing we found was half a pack of stale puppy kibble, which only sustained us for so long. We ended up sleeping in the car, forgoing watch tonight in favor of getting an early start. The next day went down about the same, with yet more destroyed, raided homes. Someone must have gone about it in a systematic way, either desperate in the very beginning of our new world order, or getting ready to settle in for the winter. It left us confronted with a dilemma—either go on and hope that tomorrow would finally be our lucky day, or take matters into our own hands.

  Another night without food, another morning with no loot in sight, and it became obvious that we had to do something about this. Nate was still hesitant about that as he watched me stretch in the morning, my limbs not quite cooperating as they should—but we really didn’t have a choice. Hunger I might not have, but I definitely felt worse that morning than the day before, a clear sign that my body was screaming for sustenance even though I couldn’t hear it. So raiding the next small-town supermarket it was.