Green Fields (Book 9): Exodus

by Lecter, Adrienne

  “I haven’t told you what I’ve discovered yet,” I said, making her shut up immediately.

  Her eyes narrowed but not with the trepidation I’d expected. “Very well. What have you discovered, Dr. Lewis?”

  One last time I considered whether I should just lie and keep this to myself—it sure didn’t sound like a smart idea to burn the only bridge I had that was connected to this side. But like so often before, being right was imperative to being smart. Story of my life.

  “I found some very interesting things on Dr. Andrada’s laptop. On their own, they wouldn’t have made me make the connection. Or the notes you sent with Hamilton to give to me once he figured I was mentally fit enough to evaluate them. Parts of it was in Raleigh Miller’s documentation as well. So, so many clues, and no way to connect the dots,” I mused. I wasn’t sure if it was my words or my sing-song tone that tipped her off, but there it was, finally—dread for what I’d say next. Again I halted, but this time to wonder if I should call in the others, at the very least Nate and Hamilton, for this conversation.

  “Are you intending to make any sense with this, or are you only wasting my time?” she quipped, but her voice was quaking. I glanced at Richards, finding him tense—but not ready to break my neck once I spilled the beans. He wanted to know just as much as Raynor, likely more as it was news to him, and only confirmation to her.

  I was only too happy to oblige them.

  “You’re the one who caused all this,” I told Raynor. “You, and Raleigh Miller, and Dr. Rosamie Andrada. You are responsible for the zombie apocalypse.”

  No dramatic sound effects appeared out of nowhere, and her neutral expression was rather anticlimactic.

  “May I remind you that I was the one warning the world?” she stated, actually puffing out her chest a little. “And you and I both know that it was Dr. Alders and those idealist flunkies of his who—”

  “Bullshit.” There was only so much of her denial that I could take. “I have no clue how you convinced that idiot to take the fall for you. Mind control maybe? One too many LSD trips gone wrong that made him susceptible to believing he actually achieved something he had nothing to do with in the past decades? And I’m not claiming that you were the one who set the distribution of the virus and activator in motion. But you’re the ones who created it.” I stepped closer to the monitor, mostly to better read her face. “The virus was stable for generations. Alders had built it to be stable, with instant expiration of the subject as a loophole should anything happen. He created the perfect weapon, yes—as in a living, breathing, thinking soldier who was faster, stronger, and most of all more tenacious than his opponents. Turning into an uncontrollable monster was a consequence and drawback, but one everyone felt was acceptable considering the advantages. It was also a measure of control to make sure all your inoculated sheep remained in line. At best, you wouldn’t have to pay pensions for retirees. But it was tantamount that the virus always remained stable. Nobody was fucking stupid enough to tinker with that—until you did.”

  Raynor listened to me without trying to interrupt, and even when I dropped that bomb, she didn’t offer up anything. I was only too happy to continue with my tirade.

  “I understand that Miller did it because he wanted to save his brother. I don’t know what Andrada’s motives were, but knowing what I know about you, I’d say you figured it was a challenge that you couldn’t say no to. I’d think it wasn’t a hard sell to the powers that be—give them a chance to disarm their perfect weapon. Who doesn’t like a contingency plan? But you made two mistakes.”

  That sardonic smile from before resurfaced as she finally gave in. “You mean, besides allegedly kicking off the end of the world?”

  I inclined my head, giving her that. “One, you never took the time to actually talk to the people affected by the serum. That’s why you never really understood exactly how it works, and what it does to them.” And, oh boy, had I gotten a good lesson of that down in that damn complex.

  Confusion was her predominant reaction. “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “The rage,” I simply said, a glance at Richards showing that he understood. Raynor still didn’t. “That’s how the serum works,” I elaborated. “It makes you so fucking angry that you push through all the natural barriers, those of the mind and those of the body, to accomplish superhuman feats. It’s why you fight harder, and longer. It’s what turns you into a single-minded, homicidal killing machine. And if you can’t stop yourself, you’re gone. You insta-convert from being so fucking angry that your mind shorts out and your body overrides everything that makes you hold back. All that’s left is that rage. You know what separates us—and other primates—from so many other animals? We got those supercharged brains that turn us into the perfect killers although we lack the teeth and claws and whatnot. Because we can use tools, and strategy. But to balance that out, we became social creatures that operate with a very complicated setup of emotions and boundaries. We got smart because we learned not to act on impulse and kill that impertinent asshole beside us on a whim because we’d still need him later. And your damn serum eliminated exactly those boundaries. Those many layers of second-guessing and simple weighing of consequences. You took away the regulations. What was left was a superior killing machine without a conscience.” I paused to let that sink in.

  “And our second mistake?” Raynor asked without reacting to the first.

  “You made it contagious.”

  She stiffened immediately, almost making me laugh. So that got under her skin? Which also gave me the understanding of what must have happened—a mistake. But it made sense. “You didn’t plan it, did you? To make it work, you needed to make the virus unstable, and the consequence of it mutating was that it wasn’t inert anymore. That it could jump hosts and didn’t remain in the inoculated subject as it was.” Thinking along those lines, something else occurred to me. “That happened after Miller’s death, right? You and Andrada, you thought you could go on alone; that you didn’t need him. But any virologist worth his salt would have told you that using a virus as a vehicle to introduce anything into a host always hinges on making sure that host never gets infectious. He also would have warned you to test for that, but you didn’t. You just inoculated your test subjects, and because you weren’t completely inhumane, you let them all sit together in a cell block, not their individual cells—because that would have been cruel. You let them kill each other in little contests and death matches, and it was all good. Until, one day, something happened, and you realized that not only were they all infected, no—they’d infected their keepers as well. And because once you take away our moral compass, we still remain team players and all they needed to do was to fight long enough to establish a hierarchy, but not to the death. That’s why you shut down the lab and called for a state of emergency, right? Not because the lab went dark and you were alarmed; it was the other way around. You realized that it was a lost cause and the only way you could contain it was to slam the door shut and throw away the keys. Only that, somehow, the plan to end the world was already in motion, independent of the shit you are responsible for, and you inadvertently managed to still save thousands while watching helplessly as someone else killed billions.”

  If Nate’s brother hadn’t died, none of that would have happened—or if they’d pulled me into the fold the very next day, dumped all their research in my lap, let me sort it all out in my head, and tell them what to look out for. As much as presenting the facts to Raynor had made me want to gloat, that realization brought me right back down to earth.

  Yeah, it’s not every day that you realize you could have averted the zombie apocalypse.

  And seeing that slight smirk on Raynor’s face made it plain that she knew that I’d come to that conclusion—and would very likely die never breathing a word of any of that to anyone.

  “That’s a very interesting theory that you have there,” Raynor said, toning down her mirth but not quite managing to get rid of it.
“I’d love to talk about that in-depth with you at a later time. But I’m afraid that you were right—it is getting late, and science talk requires clear heads and rested minds. If that is everything, Dr. Lewis…?”

  All I did was nod. Raynor smiled again and turned the camera off, the connection terminating a second later.

  I probably would have spent an hour or two staring sightlessly at the dark screen if not for Richards clearing his throat.

  “Exactly what did I just witness?”

  A very odd way of phrasing it, but aptly done so. Turning to him, I crossed my arms over my chest, forcing myself to both relax and let my mind stop running itself into a rut. “Pretty much me trying to be a know-it-all but mostly schooling myself. It’s a scientist thing. No need to worry your pretty head with such bluestocking matters.”

  He cracked a smile but I didn’t miss the spark of interest that remained in his eyes. Good. If the world needed one thing, it was one more smart person who second-guessed the bullshit others tried to sell him.

  “If you say so. Doctor.”

  That made me snort as I turned toward the door. “Oh, shut up, LT. Go be useful and tell that tech and Sgt. Buehler that we’re done here. Or whatever else you still need to do with her, seeing as in a few hours from now, we’ll be off this ship and it’s anyone’s guess if you’ll ever see each other again. You should spend your time wisely. After all, Emily will be disappointed if you got rusty in the meantime.”

  Richards had the gall to snort at my insinuations but, ever the gentleman, pulled the door open for me. Considering how heavy these damn things were, I didn’t mind not having to mangle my fingers just to leave a room.

  “Does that ever work for you?” he asked just as I was about to step outside. “Throw people off track by pretending to be a lewd asshole?”

  This time when I smiled at him, it was a real one. “More often than you’d think. People also tell me it’s entertaining as hell to watch.”

  I left him to his devices, lewd or otherwise, and made my way back to the hangar, not quite sure whether I’d really burned a bridge or just tightened the noose around my neck. Hopefully, I’d never get a chance to find out.

  Chapter 22

  Our last meal together in the mess hall wasn’t exactly a somber affair—actually, it was about as far from that as possible—but my heart was heavy throughout it, laughing and smiling as I might have been the entire time. I didn’t even care that Hamilton called me Stumpy three times, but no one else did. The sailors now regarded the entire lot of us with pleasant weariness, about ready to be rid of us. We were just waiting for the snowstorm to die down enough that the boats could bring everyone who was leaving to the shore. Clearly, we hadn’t returned to the same base where we’d come aboard for the first time but I was sure someone had given some thought to that. Nate and I still hadn’t had time to plan what to do next, but that was likely a good thing—if we didn’t talk, no one could listen in, and just maybe, an opportunity would arise. Even I would recognize it once it bit me in the ass. Burns was back to his usual joking and Gita seemed to be slowly reconnecting with the world at large. It was weird to admit it, but the last weeks had done a thing or ten to fuse all of us into a group. It annoyed the hell out of me that the idea that I’d likely—hopefully—never see a single one of them ever again made me weirdly melancholic.

  I was sure that Hamilton knew we had no intentions whatsoever to come with him to that base. Richards, too, if he wasn’t a complete imbecile, which he’d proven not to be. Gita pretended to be oblivious but Burns definitely knew, and that killed me. I didn’t say anything when he brought me a steaming mug of coffee after lunch, and he didn’t, either, but there was a silent world of understanding between us—and a lot of accusation as well. So what if he didn’t like us tucking our tails in and running—he wasn’t the one both sides might be gunning for.

  As it was, I couldn’t miss said opportunity as it grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into a room I had no idea what its purpose was, in the form of one perky marine sergeant. Nate was already standing next to Buehler, regarding her with a mix of annoyance and anticipation.

  “You’re probably asking yourselves what this is about,” she whispered to us, casting one last look outside before she shut the door.

  “Not really,” I offered, making her blink furiously.

  “We’re special that way,” Nate supplied, shifting his leg to take the weight off the one that wasn’t quite up to par yet.

  “You sure are,” Buehler muttered. “I got a really weird message last night from one of my buddies at the Silo.” She paused. “He said he’s met you? Guy named Blake.”

  I had to rack my brain for a little but decided that must have been the grumpy guard who’d become my not-so-silent shadow when I’d last been at the Silo, trying to find out what was going on with me with Dom and Sunny’s help. “Yup. What did he say?”

  “It’s not what he said,” she offered. “Or rather, what he didn’t say. He was contacting us on behalf of Commander Wilkes. Apparently, he’s come to his senses that his Navy wusses won’t save the day and has extended an invitation to the people who actually can.” Her pause was a pointed one before she said to Nate, “No offense.”

  He gave her a toothy yet real grin. “None taken. If that chest pounding makes you feel validated, please, by all means, continue.”

  Great, another one of those “we are the bestest warriors in the world!” pissing contest—as if I hadn’t had enough of that already on a daily basis.

  “So Wilkes is rallying his best buddies,” I surmised, cutting through whatever this was they had going on. “Good news for the Silo. They were concerned about staying independent last year, and I can’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not,” Buehler insisted, a little sore I’d interrupted her. “They’re keeping some Army liaisons but trying to, ever so slowly, build up their own ranks. Apparently, a lot of the scavengers that bugged down there are quite happy to follow someone who provides them with training, gear, shelter, and food, and doesn’t turn that into the next stage of a war of principles. The way Blake put it, they seem awfully tired of picking sides, so Wilkes is going for true neutral. But that’s not the interesting part, besides what we’ll be doing once we’re done with doing duty here, I expect.”

  “And, pray tell, what is the interesting part?” I couldn’t tell if Nate was actually curious or just yanking her chain. Buehler seemed equally undecided but went with dropping her posturing completely.

  “Nothing concrete, but he said that about the time we took you on, people started talking. And then they did more talking. Nothing official, and nobody can pinpoint the origin, but then people started disappearing. Not in a creepy, kidnappy way, but, you know. People with a purpose following said purpose, just elsewhere.”

  “You mean like planted spies retreating to their home base?” I ventured a guess.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “So you do know what is going on.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. But let’s say that some people here”—I glared at Nate—“have a past that’s started to catch up with them. We’d greatly prefer not to be caught up with, to put it mildly.”

  “Right.” Buehler scratched her head, looking from one of us to the other. “The thing is, also last night the captain mentioned that we have some extra space near the cargo compartments since we’ve used up so many of our provisions, and one of these days we should repurpose them.” She let that hang for a second, barely waiting for Nate to nod that he’d gotten her meaning. Ideal for storing human cargo, at least for a while. “We start unloading in ten minutes. If you get into those crawl spaces right now, nobody will realize you’re missing until everyone’s off the ship and on the shore, maybe not even then. I’ve already sent one of my guys to make sure that whatever remains behind of your personal belongings mysteriously disappears to make it look like you packed everything up. Downside is, you can’t say goodbye to your friends.”

 
And, right there it was—the moment I knew I would one day point back at and say, yup, that started all the shit that came after, but no way I could have done anything different.

  Nate seemed to agree, as he said, without checking in with me, “Where’s that crawl space?”

  Buehler looked a little disappointed but mostly because that ended our wonderful conversation as well. “Right behind you there’s a loose panel. Twenty yards toward the stern you’ll find a larger space where you can sit more easily. I’ll fetch you once we’ve made sure we don’t have any other stowaways and there’s no chance anyone from the coast can still get to you.” She paused. “Do you need a light? It’s pretty dark in there, we only have a few vents high up near the ceilings.”

  “Not our first rodeo in tight, confined spaces,” I snarked, pausing to offer her my hand. She shook it, as before not minding that it was lacking two fingers. Nate left it at a nod. Buehler waited until we’d crawled through the panel into the—comparatively wide—space behind before she turned off the lights and closed the door, the locks engaging giving me somewhat the creeps. Nothing I could do about that.

  I followed Nate as he crawled the way Buehler had indicated, barely able to make out anything even after my eyes got accustomed to the darkness. We still found the larger compartment as it was hard to miss with one wall dropping away for several feet of distance, and while not roomy enough for either of us to get up, it wasn’t so bad sitting side by side.

  “So, this is it,” I said, lightly tapping on my thigh to bleed off some nervous energy. “Think anyone will actually look for us?”

  Nate shook his head. “I doubt it. Hamilton will be happy to be rid of us. Richards has the samples and your notes—”

  “And I got to talk to Raynor,” I supplied. He looked surprised but didn’t question my statement further. “Burns will hate our guts, and I’m not sure Gita will get over two more people she cares about abandoning her.”