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

by Lecter, Adrienne

  I was getting tired of his hedging, but at the same time it was a relief that they’d sent him up here to stutter his way through the verdict, rather than the firing squad. Nate seemed to agree with me there, relaxing gradually.

  “Dom, just tell me,” I said. “It’s not exactly getting easier when you continue to behave as if the worst is still in front of me.”

  “Right,” he agreed, clearing his throat. “We’ve been talking with Wilkes and his staff, and we all agreed that the best course of action would be to treat you as one of them.” He looked at Nate, as if that needed clarification. “With some limitations that we believe you yourself are best to enforce, on yourself.”

  “Which means?” Nate asked, just a little exasperated.

  It was the other guy who replied whose name I still didn’t know. “It means that she gets two more marks on her neck and a plea from the squints to pretty please not kiss or fuck anyone who might get infected as a result. Seeing as you two are practically married, they figured that wouldn’t impose too much of a risk on anyone.”

  I didn’t miss Nate’s smirk, and I was a little surprised that he didn’t feel like setting anyone straight.

  Dom kept wringing his hands, looking anxiously at me. “Provided you agree to this?” he asked.

  I could have kept him waiting, but I was getting tired of this charade. Nodding, I got up. “I’m okay with that.”

  Dom looked surprised but also relieved, while the other guy gave him a sidelong glance that spoke volumes.

  “Well, that’s it,” Dom said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, likely to stop fidgeting. “We’ll update your database file and try to tidy it up so that it looks like there’s never been any doubt about this. There are a number of people who got inoculated with an early form of a vaccine that also changed their immunological profile somewhat. To anyone who doesn’t know that you’re not one of them, it will look like you are. Can’t do anything about the people who do know what your profile should show, but the practical implications should be minimal. If I were you, I’d probably steer clear of the other lab complexes out there, but after the recent events I don’t think I have to tell you that.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  “Sure thing,” I said, trying not to sound too grim. “And Dom? Thanks. I really appreciate the lengths you guys are going for me.”

  He looked taken aback—and maybe just a little offended—at my words. “Don’t mention it,” he responded, then turned toward the elevator. “See you downstairs, if you got a minute. I guess you’ll want to look over your results in detail? Sunny’s busy whipping up an actual presentation. I tried to tell him you’d be happy with just the raw data, but you know how some of them get.” I nodded, not quite sure how I felt about that. Avoiding Sunny had sounded like a damn good idea until now. “If you don’t have any other questions, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Terrance here,” Dom said, practically fleeing into the elevator. His rush was somewhat less dramatic as he still had to help Terrance roll out the trolley holding his equipment. I couldn’t help but smirk, but did my best to wipe my expression of it once the elevator doors closed and Terrance turned back to us.

  Rather than approach me, he made eye contact with Nate, although he looked hard pressed not to laugh at Dom’s antics himself. “Are you and I going to have a problem here?” he asked, sounding just a tad cautious.

  Nate, ever the asshole, held his gaze for a full ten seconds before he replied, letting the muscle mass and inches in height that he had on the other guy do the intimidating for him. Or just the simple fact that Terrance obviously knew what the plainly visible marks across Nate’s neck meant.

  “Why should we?” he asked. “You mean because they told you to mark up my wife, which will practically exile her forever?”

  “Someone might interpret it that way, yeah,” Terrance agreed, although he didn’t seem fazed.

  “Don’t you think that I respect her enough that if she agrees to something, I don’t see it as my place not to respect her wishes?” Nate went on, still very serious, but I could tell that he was getting tired of this already.

  Terrance shrugged. “The thought has occurred to me. Her name is at the very top of your unit roster.”

  Nate nodded. “You just heard that guy call her a half-zombie? Don’t you think I could come up with a lot of scenarios that end up way worse than her practically disappearing into our ranks of badassery? I’m not saying she can’t easily take down any asshole out there that thinks she’s weak just because she’s a woman, but now they will think twice before even looking at her. It will make my life—and hers—a lot easier.”

  I wondered what Rita—Nate’s old flame and current Chief of Security in Dispatch—would think of that. Probably not much as she was one of the few who knew that I had started out with just one X at the back of my neck and not three, but I didn’t really give a shit.

  Terrance allowed himself something resembling a smile before he nodded toward Nate’s torso. “You want anything done while you’re already here? Like a touch up on that? That scar did a good job screwing up the tail.”

  Nate idly scratched over the indicated mark but shook his head. “Those scars have sentimental value. You don’t always get speared by a rebar the day the zombie apocalypse happens.” He paused, glancing in my direction before he turned back to Terrance. “Actually, there is something I can think of.”

  Terrance shrugged, clearly not unhappy to get some more work done. “Sure. Need me to get out the paper to draw a stencil?”

  “You can probably do that freehand if your own tats are any indication of what you consider quality.” Terrance laughed, nodding for Nate to go ahead. I knew that I wouldn’t like where this was going when Nate glanced my way again. “Her name, on my ass.”

  Terrance grinned, but I wasn’t sure if my reaction could have still been considered amusement. “Seriously?” I asked, my tone heavy with incredulity. “That was a joke.”

  Nate shrugged, uninterested in my comment. “I already told you, not one of your worst ideas.”

  Terrance watched us both, his grin widening. To me he said, “I won’t do it if you object.”

  “Oh, I don’t give a shit. He can do with his ass whatever he wants to. It’s just… weird.”

  “Not the weirdest I’ve inked,” Terrance replied, turning back to Nate. “Hop up on that cot there. I’ll do you first. Still have to clean everything properly between you two, of course, but they’re forcing me to autoclave all the parts that might come in contact with her after I’m done. Unless you want to wait until tomorrow…”

  At least Nate waited to pull down the pants until he was lying down, although I had a certain feeling that as a tattoo artist, Terrance had seen his fair share of more or less exposed genitals in his day. While Terrance set his gear up, they discussed the details—black ink, military stencil-esque font, the exact position—until Terrance asked, “Full name or abbreviation?”

  Nate turned his head to look at me, raising his brows.

  “Don’t ask me,” I said, scoffing. “As I said, it’s your ass.”

  “But I don’t have to see it,” he said, snorting. “I don’t even remember the last time I called you Brianna.”

  I had to admit, neither did I. “I’m not sure you ever did,” I offered. “When we met in that park I certainly didn’t introduce myself using my full name.” Which reminded me of something else. “Under what did you save my contact info in your phone? I know I gave you my number that night. Gullible fuck bunny?”

  Terrance laughed, while Nate gave me a rather blank stare. “Just so you know, of course I already had your number before that, but I wasn’t stupid to save it with your full name, even on a burner phone. Of course the FBI would have traced it back to you, but I didn’t want to make it too easy for them.”

  I didn’t reply—there really was no sense in it—but Terrance kept on grinning as he drew the outline of the four letters with a sharpie across N
ate’s left ass cheek. “Sounds like there’s quite the story behind how you guys met.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” I said before Nate could make it all worse—as he usually did. “Guess the fact that I’m still sticking around means I deserve to get my name commemorated somewhere.”

  Terrance set to work, and the guys continued to chat, mostly about where Nate had gotten his other ink, and what Terrance had gotten up to since the shit had hit the fan. I perked up when he mentioned that he’d spent some time in California, making me wonder if he knew more about that fabled New Angeles settlement, but didn’t ask. Nate, of course, didn’t let out a single pained sound but he flinched a few times, making me feel just a little vindicated, because I could be petty like that. All too soon Terrance was done, letting me get another glimpse at the masterpiece before he slapped on some saran wrap.

  And then it was my turn. My hair was already up, so all I had to do was sit down sideways on the cot and wait for Terrance to finish cleaning and join me. I couldn’t really say if the scratching sensation of the needles shooting ink into my skin was any lighter than the last two times. For the first mark, in Aurora, I’d been so worked up that my anxiety because of the whole ordeal had pretty much made me forget everything except for that feeling of freedom once we were all safely out of the gates. My memory of the tat low on my back was sketchy at best, even if I’d never admit that. It didn’t really sting much now, but I couldn’t say if that was due to the neural damage the virus had caused, or it simply paled in comparison to all the shit I’d been through of late.

  Terrance was done before I could find an answer to all that. I could tell that he was hesitating after he finished cleaning up my neck, making me smile.

  “Just how well can you draw?” I asked, questioning my sanity just a little bit. “Probably a really stupid question, considering that you used to earn a living with your skills, but…”

  “I’m not really good with portraits,” he offered. “But except for that, I’d say pretty decent. Why?”

  Glancing back over my shoulder, I couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Guess.”

  “What do you want?” he asked, smiling with anticipation.

  Exhaling slowly, I forced myself to overthink this again, but there really was no sense in backing down now. Nate was right. Life could be oh so fleeting these days, and there was no room left for regrets.

  “Can you draw an anatomically correct heart, maybe a little stylized, with one of those curly banners over the bottom, spelling his name? Apparently, we are that kind of people.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Nate bite his lip, trying to stifle a laugh, while Terrance looked a tad bit doubtful.

  “I can do that, no problem. But I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there’s a woman who had kind of a similar design—“

  I cut him off right there, grinning brightly. “I know. I watch porn. And I’m not a princess, so you might as well slap on his name there.”

  Ever the professional, Terrance didn’t laugh, but when he fetched his sketchpad he gave Nate a look that clearly spelled out that he thought Nate was one lucky guy. For once in his life, Nate proved that he could at least pretend to be decent and he kept his mouth shut, but I was sure that further down the lane I would get to hear a piece of his mind.

  And so it came that I spent another hour lying on that cot, with my shirt shoved up to the middle of my back and my pants down to my knees. Terrance must have noticed my “13” tat above my tailbone but didn’t comment on it, so I was spared to recount the ridiculous story of why mine was down there while Nate’s was just inches below his neck marks. Admittedly, I’d had more free space there than he did. Still.

  Then we were done, and Terrance unlocked the door for us so we could duck outside to get fresh clothes from the Rover. I stayed inside and let Nate play fetch, seeing as the sun was still up and I had no intention to fry my eyes if I didn’t have to. The fluorescent light in here wasn’t exactly balmy, but it was still preferable to the glare outside.

  Nate returned and we got dressed. If I moved a little gingerly while pulling on my pants, it was pure coincidence. I couldn’t help it; I had to step up to the mirror by the showers and turn around so I could see first one, then the other black mark, the skin around it slightly swollen and red. I knew that in a few days it would look just like the one in the middle. I didn’t really know how to feel about it. It signified something that wasn’t true for me, but at the same time so much more than six lines ever could.

  “Are you okay?” Nate murmured as he stepped up to me, his breath warm on the side of my neck. I caught his gaze in the mirror, taking a moment to think about his prompt. Was I okay? No. Out there, starving but not feeling hungry, feeling exhausted without moving that much because it wasn’t overexertion that leached the very strength from my muscles, it had been easy to ignore what was going on inside of me. Or easier. I’d done enough wallowing as it was, feeling sorry for myself. But now I had to face the fact that I wasn’t an island. What little Dom had divulged had been a lot more than I’d wanted to hear, and I was sure that it was just the start of it. If I really was infected, I needed to know. I needed to hear all this. I needed to face the music and deal with the consequences. But I really didn’t want to.

  But even less I wanted to let Nate down, and force him to carry that load for me. There had to be enough on his mind as it was. We had lost two people, and if we were lucky no one else in the weeks since. The country was in unrest, and keeping everyone safe at the Silo and over at Dispatch was a good solution for now, but not in the long run. The last thing Nate needed was to have to worry whether the occasional suicidal thought of mine would lead me to do something stupid—or, even worse, brand me as undependable. So I put on a brave face and smiled, even if it was a somewhat lopsided one.

  “I have your name on my ass for fucking forever,” I replied. “I don’t think that makes me anything even close to ‘okay.’”

  He laughed, wrapping his arms around me for a moment to pick me up and squeeze me against him.

  “I think that makes you very okay,” he observed, rubbing his—freshly shaved—cheek against mine.

  “You would say that,” I snarked, digging my fingers into his arms until he let go. Turning toward the elevator, I couldn’t help but slap his ass, making sure to hit the tender side. “Come on, let’s go. I have a certain feeling that people are waiting for us.”

  He nodded and joined me without a comment, but I didn’t miss the look of worry crossing his face.

  Chapter 11

  As soon as we stepped out of the elevator and into the Silo proper, I knew that our quiet time together was over. For one, Commander Wilkes and his other aide, Meeks, were waiting for us, with Sunny and Dom hovering behind them. For another, it took Andrej all of five seconds to envelope me in a bone-bruising hug that made me squeeze right back. The Ice Queen patiently waited her turn, but all her usual reservations aside, she also embraced me, if let go after a polite three seconds. They were the only ones of our people who’d reached the Silo yet, but Pia informed us that the others would likely get here before nightfall. Wilkes shook our hands, but I was sure that it wasn’t my imagination that he let go of mine rather quickly. He looked tense, a definite difference to our welcome here last time, but then things had changed since then.

  “I apologize for complicating things like this for you,” he explained after all pleasantries had been exchanged. “I hope you understand.”

  The way he said that didn’t exactly leave much room for protestations, but I had no intention to offer any. My nod he took for what it was—acceptance rather than agreement—and he was all too happy when Sunny barged in, perfectly vibrating with excitement.

  “I’m sure you will want to see the results?” he said, way too enthusiastic for his own good. I hadn’t forgotten about his… fumble earlier, and I was still hoping that something—anything, really, zombie attacks included—would need our attention first, but that sadly was
n’t the case.

  “What you have so far, please,” I lied. “I presume you’ll take a few more days to get it all done?”

  “More like months,” Sunny enthused, leading the way toward the command center rather than the labs. Nate, Pia, and Andrej fell into step behind us, with Dom a silent presence next to Nate, while Wilkes and Meeks brought up the rear. “We’re still busy doing chromatography to clear your blood of anything but the virus. It’s highly fascinating that we still haven’t managed to produce antibodies so we can do the reverse, but it’s only a matter of time—“

  I tuned him right out, instead studying the way people reacted to us passing by. A lot of them ignored us, or only took passing interest to greet their Commander. But there were a lot of non-Silo personnel down here today, and almost all of them checked us out, trying to gauge who we were, and, more importantly, how far up the pecking order we ranked. That wasn’t new, but what was different was that now I didn’t drop out of their focus the second they saw that the sides of my neck were unmarked. And from my neck their gazes usually dropped to the weapons strapped to my thighs, the way I moved, or how I studied them in turn. I could only hope that most of them would miss the slight hitch in my gait every few steps when my left thigh gave a twinge. Staying still for how many hours I’d slept had made my muscles lock up somewhat, but already I felt the stiffness ease up a little. A few sprints and I would be as good as new.

  What they didn’t look at me as was a half-zombie, ready to tear out their throats at a moment’s notice, and that was something I was insanely grateful for. Some did regard me as a juiced-up lunatic about ready to run amok, but that I could deal with. After that intermezzo with the traders and soldiers I wasn’t sure if that wasn’t warranted.

  Sunny kept droning on until we reached the command center. Last time half the workstations there had been abandoned, but now they were manned to the last one. On several of the screens that we passed I could see air surveillance videos, making it obvious where the drones we’d seen were piloted from. The video wall was showing a huge map of the country, a lot of the main thoroughfares marked red. I remembered that last time they had been green—all the roads that had been reported as at least passable and clear of larger groups of zombies. The Silo and Dispatch were both marked as green, and several of the settlements were blue, making me guess that meant neutral. Our base back in Wyoming was one of them, I was somewhat happy to see. Aurora and Harristown were red, and neither came as much of a surprise. I would have loved to inquire about that, but Sunny went over to one of the smaller workstations at the back, shooing away the guy who’d been stealthily playing a computer game in the midst of all the productivity going on. A few clicks and he had that presentation pulled up that Dom had been hinting at. I figured it was a small mercy that it didn’t have a title page, and seemed to consist mostly of scanned images of the different assays they had run already.