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

by Lecter, Adrienne

  “Hey chica,” he barked, pushing me away to scrutinize me. “How does it feel to be a hero?”

  I laughed, unable to quell a certain hysterical note. “You tell me? I’m not sure if half of these fine people around here wouldn’t call me a traitor in a second.”

  He shook his head, his easy smile doing a lot more than all that hands shaking to disband my lingering fears. “Don’t worry about that. Sure, some will forever be angry that you pulled the coals out of the fire and somehow avoided the worst of the slaughter, but most are sensible enough to know that a truce will benefit everyone a lot more than senseless, blind vengeance.”

  “I can only hope that’s true,” I admitted. “Besides, we barely had enough ammo to kill all the undead fuckers. Neither side would have made it out alive if we had wasted it on each other.”

  Martinez scrunched up his nose. “Charlie told me you had that bright idea with luring shamblers along with you? Exactly how high were you when you came up with that?”

  I glanced down at my hand, wriggling it this way and that. “Loopy, I’d say. It sounded like the right thing to do back then.”

  “It did?”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “No. But it worked, didn’t it? I don’t want to consider how many more people we would have lost without a cozy cushion between the fronts.” And how many more soldiers I would have had to kill otherwise. I’d never be able to wash that stain off my soul, come what may.

  As usual, Martinez picked up on the momentary dip in my mood, leaning back in his wheelchair as he grinned up at me. “And how does it feel to finally be able to exact bloody vengeance and stick it to the man? I’ve heard the term ‘anticlimactic’ thrown around.”

  Groaning, I let my head fall back and closed my eyes for a second. “Yeah, that doesn’t even come close. Guess I should be happy I got to shoot that fucker, but, seriously, he deserved so much more. All that time spent picturing all the gruesome things I could do to him—“

  “Wasted,” Martinez interjected, snickering when I glared at him. “Oh, come on. I’m sure it will take you, what, all of a few weeks to find someone else to exact that creative energy on? Fact of life is that it’s usually not the good people but the ruthless ones that make it. I’m the exception, of course.”

  It wasn’t hard to respond to that with a bright grin. “Of course. Besides, now that you’ve got this dashing vehicle to park your ass in, we’ll have a hard time keeping up with you.”

  He grimaced, but his “Too fucking damn soon!” cajoling was full of jest rather than scorn.

  “Oh, come on. Did you listen to what people told you about New Angeles? I’ll give them three weeks, a month tops, and they’ll have some weird kind of rocket hover chair ready for you. Or some exoskeleton that you snap on like a coat. It’s a pure utopia down there. Rivers of milk and honey, and all that shit. The rest of the country might be on the fast-track into medieval times, but they’ll colonize the moon before the turn of the century. And, if not, who cares? With all the thanks and glory people owe us, you can spend the rest of your days lazing in the sunshine, drinking Margaritas, regaling everyone with the stories of my grandeur.”

  Martinez shook his head, laughing under his breath, until he noticed me going still. Glancing over his shoulder, a knowing smile spread on his face. “Just go over there and get it behind you. When has avoiding confrontation ever done a thing for you? I’ve been talking to her off and on since we joined the convoy. She really has no damn clue who you are. Don’t leave her hurting and confused. You owe her that.”

  I was burning to hiss that I owed nobody anything, least of all her, but instead swallowed my ire and inclined my head. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am!” Martinez laughed, ambling his wheelchair forward and around me so he could reach up and give my back a physical shove toward the busses. “You had guts enough to lead the rebellion, use zombies as part of your attack plan, and fearlessly faced scores of enemies that had all the reasons in the world to kill you. What’s one chat compared to that?”

  I inclined my head, and at his repeat insistence walked over to the front of the bus.

  She was already waiting for me, squinting in the bright sunlight, her expression something between a confused frown and a scowl. Her clothes were a tad more practical than before—jeans and a windbreaker rather than a skirt and flowing blouse, but she was still sporting trekking sandals, her open, blonde hair an invitation to get grabbed and make fight or flight impossible. Behind her I saw a few of the other women from the Halsey settlement standing together like a silent group of witnesses. I could only guess how I must have looked to them—in full gear, down to my boots, shotgun in a casual grasp, hair braided up tightly because of the Rover’s lack of windows, but also because why would I leave it open out there? But this was who I was, and I’d be damned if I felt apologetic for a single detail.

  “Hi,” I said, rather unenthusiastically, trying to smile but sure I was botching it.

  Sam’s eyebrows knitted together, her gaze briefly roaming over my body before settling on my eyes, securely hidden by the glacier-proof shades. The thick soles of my boots evened out the height difference between us, letting me hold her gaze on even ground in more way than one.

  “Hi,” she echoed, her voice wavering slightly. “I was hoping to catch you again. Maybe. Alejandro insisted that you’d drop by eventually. He—“ She paused, licking her lips. “He seems to know you quite well.” That Martinez sure did.

  I shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable. “When you spend months fighting for survival together, you get to be pretty close.”

  She nodded, her mouth compressed tightly, looking away. Was that a sliver of guilt crossing her features? Couldn’t be. “Yes, he mentioned something pretty similar. I… I didn’t know how bad it must have been out there—“

  I cut her off before she could ramble on further, maybe a little too vehement. “I was on that bridge. Well, we were. The bridge you mentioned when Hamilton and his chums evac'ed you from Lexington on Day Zero? How horrific it was for you to watch all those people down there get overrun by the zombies? Trust me, it wasn’t any more fun being actually part of that.”

  I saw her swallow visibly, her lip quivering, and instantly chided myself for that coming out way harsher than I’d expected. Expelling air noisily, I did my best to keep my emotions out of the equation as I explained. I couldn’t quite say why it was so important to me for her to know this, but it was. Ever since the moment I’d realized that she was still alive, I’d been burning to justify myself, but the level of subterfuge I’d had to keep up had prevented me from being honest with her.

  “I didn’t spend that Friday night curled up, screwing my brains out with Nate.” I had to pause there, not quite able to keep a straight face. “Technically, we did fuck, but that was on Saturday morning, and after I was halfway convinced I’d infected myself with a deadly virus that would kill me within a day or two, helping him plant explosives to destroy the lab.” The confusion in her gaze made me backtrack further. “Yes, we’d had an affair for a few weeks, but that’s beside the point. He needed me because I was working in the building he was trying to infiltrate. To avenge his brother’s murder, and to destroy the virus that could potentially erase us off the planet. He convinced me to help him. We didn’t know that we were already fighting a lost battle. And when we were out in the streets and started to see what was going on, I stuck with him and his people. We looted some gear and then we were off, trying to get away before the worst could begin.” I halted again, imploring her to believe me with my gaze, even though I knew she couldn’t see it. “I wanted to turn back to get you, but it was already too late. All of us would have died if we’d hesitated even a minute longer. I’m not the only one who lost someone. Nate’s mother was in the city. And I’m sure, if he’d had the choice between saving her or saving me, I would have ended up as zombie chow. But none of us had that choice.”

  I gave her the chance to say something, and when
nothing came, I went on.

  “I mourned you. You can ask any of the guys. Not for the first two days because there was too much chaos. All of us had been up for an entire day before we fled the city. We lost so many people crossing that bridge alone, and more in the hours that came after when all we could do was run and hide. We found some respite with an old couple. They died a day or two after we moved on. Once the worst shock wore off, losing you almost killed me. I think I cried myself to sleep, missing you so much, more nights than I can count. But I had to move on, if only so someone would remain alive who could keep the memory of you alive for another few hours, days, weeks, maybe even years. I learned to shoot a gun, I learned how to take care of myself out there and not get eaten within the first hour not hiding behind burly men with rifles. And, yes, eventually Nate and I picked up the pieces of the fling we’d had. You know the rest of that. But not for the first weeks. He got wounded badly in the city and I wasn’t sure he’d make it. After that he pretty much ignored me, if anything making me feel like a liability rather than someone he cared about. I was all alone out there with a bunch of guys I didn’t know whether I could trust, but didn’t have the choice not to. Apparently I did a good job learning on the road because now they follow my orders, at least if they make sense to them. That’s the end of the story.” There was no reason to rehash the bad times. None of that was important—and the last thing I wanted was for her to feel any more pity for me.

  In pure Sam fashion, she picked up on that weakness, and didn’t hesitate to exploit that. “How does that sob story with your supposed miscarriage fit into that?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek until the urge to punch her in the face was fading. I’d forgotten how spiteful she could be—but at the same time I couldn’t hold it against her. I could tell that she still wasn’t over us, and in a sense, neither was I. But I knew I would be, once I’d had a chance to explain. “Nothing made up about that,” I told her, not even trying to make my voice more animated than the flat growl it came out as. “We made a nuisance out of ourselves by being a little too successful being free and doing whatever the fuck we wanted out there, so we attracted the wrong people’s attention. We got ambushed, by your personal hero, Bucky Hamilton. Who, for the record, is one of the sleaziest, most manipulative assholes I’ve ever encountered. We managed to spring their trap, losing several people. Yards away from making it out of there, a bunch of soldiers gunned me down and the zombies got me. Did a damn fine job savaging my hip and thigh. Backup arrived and I made it out. Only survived because some of Nate’s immunity had rubbed off on me. Neither of us knew that I’d been pregnant. Must have been a lot of fun, holding my dying body when I started to bleed on top of it all. Surprise, I didn’t die. Still not sure why. Technically, I’m some kind of half-human, half-zombie hybrid now. I’m an active carrier of the virus, but it never fully activated inside of me.” At her shocked look I gave her a toothy grin. “Don’t worry, you won’t catch anything from me unless copious exchange of bodily fluids is concerned. You see, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t be in a relationship with you. And I really don’t want to, not anymore. That woman you loved? She died that day the shit hit the fan. Either on the streets when she couldn’t return to get you, but likely already hours before when she decided that she had to stand up for herself and start living, rather than just existing. Hate me if you want, but that’s the truth.”

  The following silence was one of the most painful moments of my life, and when she replied, Sam couldn’t hold my gaze anymore, studying her ragged fingernails. “I don’t hate you,” she professed. “But, honestly? I’m not sure I’ve loved you for a long time.”

  Swallowing got a little hard but I did my best to take that with a nod, if a curt one. Nothing new, but it still hurt—even if it was for the best.

  “Guess that’s it for us?” I said when I felt like I could trust my voice again.

  Sam nodded. “Guess so. You’re heading down to New Angeles? We’ve decided to join the people in Utah. They sound like a good, strong community. After you left, Halsey just wasn’t the same anymore. Hamish and some of the others kicked out the guards, but we couldn’t sustain the town on our own. There were some traders gathering close by—“ She paused, then barked a brief laugh. “But then you already know that, don’t you? They belonged to the supply train that was fueling your crusade.” The way she said that, she wasn’t a supporter exactly. “Anyway, the rest is history. Some remained with them but it got a little too rowdy for us.”

  “Jason and his guys are among the best I know,” I offered. “I’m sure the people they swore to protect are a good bunch.” I didn’t mention the horse-drawn carts. Let her discover that on her own. Somehow I got the sense that neither of them knew exactly what farming and trying to carve out a life entailed. Neither did I, to be honest, but that was one more reason why I preferred to go toe-to-toe with the undead and get my ass shot out from underneath me. Maybe in a few years from now I’d settle down, but not yet.

  With nothing else to say, I offered up a short, “Good luck,” but before I could turn away, Sam reached out, catching my elbow.

  “Wait.” She needed a few moments, warring with herself, but eventually managed a smile. “Maybe I sound bitter, but I’m happy that you’ve found someone, and that you feel like it was the right decision. I mean, just look at you.” She gave a shaky laugh. “You should hear how the people talk about you. Not all of them like you, but they all agree that you’re one tough broad.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the actual term they’re using,” I enthused, incapable of holding back a bright grin. I’d damn well earned that.

  “Take care,” Sam went on, and it took me a moment to realize that she wasn’t talking to me but someone over my right shoulder. Nate, who else? “Of her. That’s one thing she never was any good at.”

  “I will,” was all he replied. They nodded at each other, and Sam’s attention returned to me. I waited for her to maybe step forward for a last hug, but when I saw her withdraw, I quickly widened the distance between us.

  “Have a good life,” I offered. “You deserve it. And don’t worry, as long as any of us are alive, we will fight for your right to live in all the happiness and peace that you could wish for yourself.” Maybe that was slathering it on a little heavy-handedly, but in the end it was true.

  Sam turned around, and because I didn’t want to watch her go, I did the same. Nate fell into step beside me, keeping his hands to himself. While I could have used a hug, I was grateful that he didn’t offer one. Walking away with my head held high, him at my side as my equal, felt a lot better. The moment we were no longer lurking on the fringes of the group, we quickly got swept up by the craziness of what felt more and more like a town fair. We spent a good two hours exchanging stories, laughing, munching on the sausages someone had thrown on a portable grill, and all around having a good time. If I was still a little sentimental, that sure didn’t keep me from thoroughly enjoying myself.

  It turned out, we weren’t the only ones ready to split off and go at a faster pace than the main convoy. Everyone heading south toward Vegas and New Angeles would be taking a different route than those bound for Utah in a day or two, so a handful of scavengers decided they might as well speed things up—among them our guys and Sadie, Dan Harris and his people, and of course Tanner and Gita. Burns and Pia were already days ahead, having set out with the convoy that had done the cleanup for this one, making sure the busses and farming machines wouldn’t get bogged down by some roaming shamblers.

  The sun was starting to set as we headed out, leaving the makeshift camp behind us. I turned my head and grinned at Nate when the Rover started on the second try, sounding almost operational this time. He shook his head at my antics, grabbing his maps to find a good spot where we might camp for the night.

  “Five miles out, take the exit and head toward Moab. Twenty miles south, we should find some cozy cabins at the national park. After spending almost two weeks getting kick
ed by you in your sleeping bag, I’m ready to sleep in a bed again.”

  “Always with the complaints,” I muttered, still grinning.

  “You, shut up and drive.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  He scoffed. “You’re my wife. You swore to love and obey me.”

  My laughter was just a tad shrill. “I did no such thing! You should get a hat. I think all that sunshine must have fried your brain. Obey, my ass.”

  Nate heaved a dramatic sigh, but he was still grinning. Reaching over, I squeezed his thigh, then withdrew my hand to the gear shift. Bicker and fight we might, but life would be so boring without him. And life? That was one thing I intended to get the most out of—today, tomorrow, forever.

  THE END

  …or is it?

  When I started writing the Green Fields series, I always knew that there would be six books, following Bree’s journey from a workaholic lab rat to badass mercenary leader. I knew where the plot was going, I knew when to start weaving foreshadowing into the story to paint the right picture once all the dots were connected. It has been an amazing experience for me to watch readers’ reactions follow along with the changes, along all the ups and downs the characters got to fight their way through. Then book #5 hit the shelves, and with it came the inevitable announcement that the next one would be the last. Considering that the series has gathered a neat crowd of followers I wasn’t surprised that a lot of you were screaming for #6 pretty much the moment they’d finished #5, but what I didn’t see coming was how many wanted more than just one last book.