Green Fields (Book 9): Exodus

by Lecter, Adrienne

  The ramp took a sharp left turn at the top, ending in a flat, open space that was the centerpiece of the entire satellite city of La Défense. I’d seen the maps, and Elle had described it to us in detail when prompted at dinner, but the view opening up in front of me took my breath away for a second—and not just because, like most causeways, it was dangerously open and devoid of good cover.

  For the length of almost a mile, and well over a hundred feet wide, the plaza ran from where I was crouching behind the remnants of what had likely been some coffee shop furniture, up over several stages of gentle steps, to a giant geometric arch-like structure, roughly the dimensions of a cube. Left and right, skyscrapers stretched seemingly endlessly up into the clouds and fog, most too tall to see their tops in the abysmal weather. And as I looked the other way, I could see the center of Paris at the extension of the plaza, the road that ran across the bridge, and on into a straight line to the fabled Arc de Triomphe. Back in the day, it must have been quite the inviting spot. Now, it was a great place to get a really good look at all the undead clogging the broad road that disappeared underneath the structure we were standing on now, the dark spaces below likely their usual daylight hideout. A few of them must have been out and about before we’d come close, but I was sure that we’d woken up quite a few more.

  Up on the plaza, there were fewer shamblers, but still plenty enough that I didn’t dare venture out into the open where a large pool, frozen over, with weird sculptures placed in it took over most of the space. I waited for Nate to give me the signal before I started inching forward, using two of the sculptures for cover. Next to us, the gaping maw of a Metro entrance yawned, giant holes ripped into the flimsy grates that had closed it off telling of something rampaging there to get out. That didn’t look very comforting.

  No cars had made it up onto the plaza, but there was debris aplenty from the shops and restaurants that must have already had outdoor seating ready when the shit hit the fan, and a year and a half of seasons to let the carefully arranged vegetation run wild. Even with obvious signs of destruction, it all had a rather peaceful, quiet air to it.

  I absolutely didn’t trust that, and that false sense of security was setting my teeth on edge.

  I took my time picking my way through lots of dry leaves that had gathered in the corners and lower edges, going for minimum exposure wherever possible. All that glass, steel, and concrete made this seem like a business district but I had no idea how many high-rise penthouses had been here, and whether the hotels had been deserted. The memory of the stealthy, conniving undead at the golf club was still too fresh on my mind not to distrust the momentary quiet, although the lingering scents of decay—mostly of plant matter—were comforting to a point, familiar.

  We reached the first flight of steps where Red was waiting with Tanner, Gita, and five more soldiers. Two more teams were behind us, a total of five people. Red silently signaled me to proceed further up the plaza. The next part was in more disarray, several of the trees that had grown there lying this way and that. I considered going around them to hug the side of the buildings, but I didn’t like how deep the shadows were around there. More than one glass front had been destroyed, and I was sure that something must be lurking in there. Better not risk it. As I slowly advanced down the steps, I saw movement up ahead, but it was just one more of our teams going the same route I’d decided for, also avoiding the buildings for now. I looked back briefly, trying to see if any of the shamblers from the garage had come out, but what I could see of the ramp was still deserted.

  I really didn’t trust this.

  The section with the trees in the middle was bisected by a small garden and some restaurants, followed by another open space, then more trees. The second half had more room on the sides, and to the right loomed the corner of our destination, a double-towered building as fantastic and tall as all the others yet with curves rather than straight plains as the central architectural motif. It looked like the last place where I would have expected an underground lab to be housed, but that must have been the reasoning for the location. Ahead, I could see another shallow, huge basin, and then the plaza opened wide, leading up to that oversized cube arch. I was quite happy that we didn’t have to go that far, the expanse of all that exposed space making my skin crawl.

  As we got closer to the tower we were aiming for, I saw Bucky had already arrived, waiting next to the entrance. None of the ground floor glass panes had remained intact so getting inside wasn’t exactly hard. That he was hesitating to get out of the open made me guess that he was waiting for backup to do some preliminary cleanup. That seemed to be the case as he disappeared from sight as the fire team in front of us arrived. I strained my ears but couldn’t hear a sound besides the wind howling through the maze of buildings.

  Nate held me back before we made the mad dash across the open space in front of the basin, taking point himself and signaling Burns to come right after him. I didn’t hang back but they made it a full ten seconds ahead of me, leaving me frowning as I followed inside. The cloud of stench that met me told me everything I needed to know. Before I could look for the others, Cole signaled me over to where he was crouching next to the huge elevator banks in a defensive position. I joined him, reasoning that I still had the actually useful work ahead of me that only I could do—I could take five now where I wasn’t strictly needed.

  The other fire teams followed in quick succession. When Red made it in, he sent Gita to Cole and me before he joined the cleanup effort that by now had turned into a barricading effort. I knew that there were two exits deeper into the building but our chosen main entry point was right here, so it made the most sense to concentrate on this one—after making sure we could still use the others. I didn’t like standing by idly, watching the gloom outside deepen by the minute. I knew that was due to the weather worsening, not yet night falling, but the undead weren’t too picky about what kept the sun away from them, as long as it did. Suddenly, the four-hour window that we had to explore the labs sounded like a hell of a lot of time. Even if we were quick—which I highly doubted would be possible—it would likely be dark outside by the time of our return. I knew the plan was to make it to the river and onto the boats, anyway, but I wouldn’t put it past Hamilton to decide that it was best for us to wait out the night in this building—and hope the French would still be around the next morning. What we’d do if that wasn’t the case I didn’t want to consider. What would happen if they tried to check on us after dark made me taste bile just the same.

  Hamilton reappeared in the foyer, surprisingly silent for a man of his bulk and gear load. He nodded at Cole, who, rather than turn to the elevators, went over to a small maintenance door and started easing it open, Hamilton and Russell covering him. It squeaked god-awfully, making me hold my breath as I listened. Nothing. Five tense seconds later, the soldiers disappeared inside and the lot of us followed, everyone with their night vision goggles ready.

  Let the fun begin.

  The staircase behind the door was barely worth the designation, just a shaft with a decidedly flimsy set of stairs leading down. The entire construction shook and vibrated under our combined weight, the beams of a few flashlights not enough to make much of a difference as I didn’t exactly want to see through the grates at what was below me. I didn’t count the steps but the number of turns made me guess that we went down three levels, where the stairs ended at another small door. Unlike the one above, it didn’t make a sound as it opened. I patiently waited my turn but from the low, even sound of steps the soldiers up ahead didn’t meet with opposition.

  Behind the door was a corridor that mirrored the foyer upstairs in layout, including the elevators, but only a single one—the second on the right—had a call button for “down.” Where upstairs there had been glass and granite, here it was all unfinished concrete. There was another maintenance door at the other end of the corridor but after making sure it was locked, Hamilton—loudly—declared that our mission was a go. Within moments
, the doors to that special elevator were pried open and blocked with a bar to remain that way, Davis looking down the shaft with one of the stronger flashlights, then up. “Cabin is somewhere in the upper floors so the way down is clear,” he reported back.

  In short order, climbing ropes were unpacked, and down we went—not my favorite part of our expedition, although I noticed on the way down that the shaft had ladder rungs on two sides for manual climbing. Down and down we went into what felt like the very bowels of the earth, every additional foot making me more nervous. There were no other doors—or in fact any markings indicating other floors—in the shaft until we reached the very bottom, the heavy doors there already pried open like the ones above.

  While I tried to swallow the distinct feeling of nausea that had taken hold of my stomach, I watched as portable generators and batteries were unpacked, soon crowding the dark granite hallway that ended in a small, empty room. The only distinct feature was a black security camera in one corner above the heavy fire-safety door leading further into the building, as-of-yet sealed. Cole was already booting up his laptop; Gita hovered behind him, vibrating with tension, watching him pry a wall panel loose and pull what looked like a random bunch of cables out that they connected to their workstations. I eyed the dead display next to the door, the iris scanner both oddly familiar and so far removed from what had become common in my life that it could have been alien technology. Everyone else was shirking heavy packs and exchanging them for lighter ones, only taking weapons and as much ammo as they could carry with them. There was a general air of quiet anticipation going on, except for Parker, who was so white in the face that I was tempted to say “boo” to him and watch him faint. It was only when Hamilton pried open a panel in the wall that I hadn’t noticed until then and started taking handfuls of gas masks out that I got a little queasy myself.

  “You are aware that anything that could be lurking in there will likely get right through the filters in those masks?” I remarked, not really a fan of my own doomsday message.

  Hamilton gave me a smile that was bordering on sweet—as much as he was capable of that—but never stopped in his task. “Standard decontamination protocol is UV light and formaldehyde, right?” I nodded. “And what do we need to breathe through that, should Cole not manage to shut it all down?”

  “Right,” I murmured, letting Richards push one of the handed-out masks into my hands. “But the offices and common areas shouldn’t have those decon measures installed.”

  “You going to bet your lungs and freak eyes on that, Stumpy?”

  I didn’t need Nate nudging me in the side to ignore that dig. If my attempt to be helpful went ignored, I could very well keep all that knowledge to myself—but I made sure to check the filters on the mask. Never hurt to be cautious.

  “Progress?” Hamilton asked Cole as he stalked over to breathe down the geek squad’s necks. If I couldn’t make sense of the rapidly scrolling lines of code on screen, I doubted Hamilton fared any better.

  Cole ignored him for a full twenty seconds. “We’re in, but the system’s not meant to be fiddled with so this may take a little longer. But good news, the backup generators are still running so we should have baseline electricity inside, and access to the logs.” He paused to look up, first at Hamilton before his gaze skipped to me for a second. “That means we at least have a chance to check what went down here.”

  “Get us in,” Hamilton grunted. “That’s top priority.”

  Cole was already focusing on his monitor again, mumbling a barely audible “Yessir,” under his breath.

  For what felt like the millionth time, I checked that I had enough backup magazines for my M16 ready—no stealth approach for this. I couldn’t help but fidget with the assault rifle, nerves I hadn’t realized I was feeling suddenly making me jittery as hell. Hill eyed me cautiously, but it was Burns who addressed the elephant in the room, nudging me softly. “Still not trusting the rifle that’s literally the most used weapon in the armed forces?”

  “Figuratively,” Nate admonished, making Burns flash him a quick—and very unapologetic—grin, as usual annoying me—which worked as the distraction it was supposed to be.

  “What can I say. I miss that kicking mule like hell.”

  “What is it with you and shotguns?” Hill wanted to know, seeming calm as fuck. Asshole.

  I shrugged, wishing my fingers weren’t quite that stiff. Hell, still having all of them would have been even better. “It’s kind of my thing, I guess? First weapon I got to use often enough that it became second nature. Great for busting down doors and shooting anything in the face that’s been hiding just behind said door. Hard to miss at arm’s length.”

  He still didn’t seem to get it. “I’ve seen you do target practice. You’re not that bad of a shot.”

  I waited for the punchline, but when none came I realized he was serious. Exhaling slowly, I tried to choose my words wisely—not something I usually did, but with everyone so close together in the same room it wasn’t like this was a private conversation.

  “I just like my shotguns, okay? Last year, I started out from zero knowledge, surrounded by, well, you know what kind of people. To say I was useless as fuck is an understatement. At best, I was a distraction, but I was very aware of the fact that I was absolutely a burden; someone that had to be taken care of rather than an additional member of the group to fully rely on.”

  As I’d expected, the conversation didn’t remain between us, Aimes only too happy to interject. “I’m sure they could have thought of some way to put you to good use,” he offered, not quite daring to leer at me, but the message was impossible not to get.

  Snorting, I plastered a fake smile on my face. “And that was part of the problem. Maybe it was just luck that the first thing Romanoff grabbed to explain to me after a handgun was one of the shotguns they’d liberated from a squad car. Maybe he figured it wouldn’t be missed as much as a rifle if I somehow managed to ruin it. Maybe he thought it perfectly matched my winning personality. Who the fuck knows? Anyway, I learned how to use it, and the next time I got a face full of zombie, I blew its face off, and that made a difference. I didn’t need anyone else anymore to finish it off. I could do it myself. I could have someone else’s back, and I could help keep up a defensive perimeter. Sure, it was easier in the long run seeing as we didn’t have enough ammo to waste to teach me how to properly shoot at longer distances with a rifle, nor did we often have the chance to be somewhere truly deserted where we didn’t draw too much unwanted attention to us. None of that was necessary because I could do what needed to be done with my shotgun. We started switching things up once we got to the bunker and bare necessities survival turned to foraging and seeking out training opportunities, but by then, the damage was done.”

  Aimes looked ready to offer something that would make me really yearn for my Mossberg, but Hill, wisely choosing a good-natured tone, surmised, “So the shotgun’s your comfort weapon? Cute.”

  I would have loved to say something acerbic to wipe that grin off his face, but Hamilton cut through our little trip down memory lane with his announcement. “Everyone, buckle up. Parker, if you would hand out the candy now?”

  I wasn’t sure if that was meant more literally than I was comfortable with but didn’t exactly feel relieved when I realized that the medic produced a small case filled with syringes. It was rather obvious what that was about.

  “Oh, hell, no,” I muttered—and realized that the reason Nate was hulking at my back wasn’t coincidence, or because he wanted to guard my back, but to effectively keep me from backing away. The blank look he shot me held enough warning to make me deflate before I could even work up a temper, the silent promise in there that he would hold me down and do what was necessary, whether I consented or not.

  Parker ignored me, already busy with uncapping needles and ramming them into any presented neck close to him, but Hill—again—gave me a weird look. “Just your garden variety booster shot,” he explained. “I
thought you’d had some before?”

  I forced myself to lock my muscles in place to keep from bolting. Not wanting that shit in my veins was one thing; being humiliated after being handled like a small, petulant child quite another—and my ego really didn’t need that experience today.

  “Yeah, and those aren’t my fondest memories.” Hill seemed to wait for further explanations but when none came, he was happy to get his own dose—as did the others, including Burns and Tanner.

  Then it was just Nate and me, and the way Parker looked my way as if he was about to approach a rabid animal ready to bite his arm off almost made me smirk. I didn’t make a move to bare the side of my neck, and neither did Parker step closer, until Nate let out a half-defeated but mostly annoyed sigh, holding his hand out to the medic. “I’ll do it.” I tensed, but didn’t move a muscle to defend myself. It burned like hell, then burned some more, but almost immediately I felt my body kick up into a state of alertness—and that wasn’t the only effect. Meanwhile, Nate got his shot as well, giving me another warning glance, likely to keep me from pulling that kidney-punching shit again. I wasn’t really tempted, my intentions getting derailed in an entirely different direction. And this was decidedly not how it had been before.

  “Isn’t this a little, you know… distracting?” I asked no one in particular. “I mean, I get how the endorphin high would keep you going when you’re a breath away from dying, but you’d think this could get the wrong kind of distracting.” Hill looked at me as if I’d gone crazy—not so different than usual—but even Burns didn’t seem to get what I was going for, which made me draw up short, mentally. Smirking, I looked over my shoulder at Nate, but he didn’t give me anything, either—which could have been silent confirmation as well. “You’d think any of the women in your ranks might have mentioned this, but I guess not. Obviously, Zilinsky would die before she’d admit—” I cut off there, laughing softly. Yeah, that idea was hilarious—but I could totally see her charging into battle, first to hurl herself into the enemy masses, laughing wildly inside. The Ice Queen had a wicked sense of humor, just well-hidden and seldom displayed. But I couldn’t quite see Rita keeping this from Nate, particularly considering their... history.