Bucky gave another nod, then hollered back to his men. “Everyone, get ready. We’re moving out.” He spent another second glaring at Nate, but turned away without saying another word. The soldiers flocked to him, only Martinez hesitating for a moment.
“How is your arm?” Nate asked me, his focus on switching magazines for his rifle, letting the empty one drop to the floor. Yet he picked it up and lobbed it at one of his people in full gear.
At first, I didn't understand what he meant, until I realized that he was referring to my left arm where the bullet had grazed me in the elevator shaft. As if my body had been waiting for that moment, the dull ache flared to life, but it was just one more distraction compared to how battered I felt overall. Clenching my fingers, I made a fist, figuring that if the muscles and tendons still worked, it couldn't be that bad.
“I'll live.”
“That you will,” he said, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “We’ll patch you up once we’re outside.” He turned to the Ice Queen next. “Casualties?”
“Fifteen at last count. Three more down with heavy injuries.” She glanced at the huddle of hostages to her right. “Three of them started coughing blood so we put them out of their misery. It’s not looking good.”
She and Nate shared a look that I really didn’t like—particularly the hint of fear crossing her features before she reigned them in, becoming the cold killer again—and he gave a nod that wasn’t unlike Bucky’s. I was really burning to know what history those two had—but not as much as I wanted to get out of here.
“Okay, people, listen up—“ Nate started, but never got further than that, as his last word got droned out by the boom of a series of explosions.
Chapter 24
For a moment, I thought that the countdown on my life had already reached zero before I realized that the detonations had happened outside of the building, not inside.
Peeking over the barricade, I could make out a few soldiers by the exit before a cloud of dust blew over them. As it settled, I could see torn-up earth and debris where the thick wall that had surrounded the entire complex had been. In a series of smaller explosions, what I presumed were buried mines went off, either activated by the shock wave or remotely detonated like the charges that had brought down the wall. They tore through the few somewhat disoriented, filthy figures that had started wobbling around the grass. I quickly looked away, my heart thudding in my throat.
Nate's nudge against my knee brought my attention back to him. “Whatever happens, you stay with me.” He didn’t wait for me to acknowledge his order before he shouted, “Everyone, go!” He reared up, his gun ready. All around us, the others followed, the roar of so many feet hitting the floor even drowning out the racket from above.
Then we were moving, like everyone around us. Barricades were pulled away, and suddenly the outside world lay just in front of us, only barred by the glass walls of the foyer that quickly shattered under the impact of bullets. Glass crunched under my plastic lab clogs, not built for this kind of abuse—and then we were out in the open, running for our lives.
Air burned in my lungs, and I stumbled when the muscles in my legs wanted to give out. I forced myself to keep going, knowing that we weren't out of the danger zone yet. Nate let go of me after pulling me to the right, and I ran after him, my eyes glued to his back.
The architecture of the atrium had worked like a funnel for the stream of people trying to leave the building like rats a sinking ship, and now they fanned out. To my left I saw Elena Glover stumble down the main path, going for the easiest way. That was, until a few steps later two figures materialized out of the smoke, taking her down as teeth and claws bit into her. Her scream cut off in a wet gurgle as one of them went for her throat.
Greene had been right behind her, but he managed to stagger to the side, looking around frantically. For a moment our gazes crossed, and suddenly I regretted that I’d declined Nate’s offer of a gun. Then he looked away, quickly surveying the situation, and went after a couple of soldiers who were running across the lawn but angling away from us.
I staggered and almost pitched forward when my toes snagged on something uneven in the grass, but I caught myself in the next two steps. My clumsiness put Nate ahead of me, but as if he'd felt my absence, he turned around, gesturing at me to hurry up. I did, ignoring everything else but him, and just ran.
We'd barely made it across half of the distance to the remnants of the wall when the real explosions went off.
I more felt than heard them at first, the ground underneath my feet shaking. A deep rumbling followed, until off to my far right grass and earth heaved up and fell away as the hot lab buried underneath blew up. Nate shouted something at me that I didn't understand before he grabbed my hand and physically pulled me forward.
More detonations followed high up behind us. Over my shoulder I saw parts of the upper three floors of the building blow apart, then disappear in a cloud of debris. A shock wave hit me, hard enough to stagger me, but not enough to make me fall. His fingers tightened around mine and he kept pulling me forward, ever forward.
Another figure in a billowing white lab coat appeared in front of us, and I had only a moment to recognize one of my former fellow hostages before he stepped on a mine, the bottom half of his body disappearing while the rest fell to the ground. I was close enough to feel the much smaller shock wave hit me and instinctively tried to shy away, but Nate pulled me right into the just spawned crater.
I hit the ground with the full length of my body, unable to cushion the fall when my limbs wouldn't respond fast enough. My face was only inches away from the gory remains of what had seconds ago been another human being. I tried to scramble up, but then Nate's entire weight landed on me, pressing me even more firmly into the disgusting ground. I struggled, but he somehow managed to get one arm underneath me, pulling himself flush with my body, while the fingers of his other hand entwined with mine.
Something was beeping loudly right next to my face, and I had just a second to realize that it was the alarm of his watch that had gone off before the sky came raining down on us.
Day Zero
Awareness returned slowly, one agonizing body part at a time.
It took me a while to remember what had happened.
There’d been an explosion, then many, many more, joining in one continuous boom. A sense of vertigo as the immense pressure of the blast had picked my body up and thrown it around like a rag doll. Pain, panic, then nothing.
Until now.
I opened my eyes, or tried to. Something was keeping them shut. I tried to raise my left arm to my face, but couldn't. I tried my right, then realized I couldn't move it because it was trapped under my own body. Shifting, I managed to free it. Something sharp scraped across the back of my hand, re-igniting the sting of the burn mark the coffee had left.
Coffee. Water. My throat was parched, my tongue so dry that it felt like a swollen, foreign something in my mouth.
Finally, skin. There was grit everywhere, covering my face, gluing my lashes shut. I wiped at it until I could pry my eyes open.
Everything around me was dark. Not pitch black—there was some light filtering in from somewhere up ahead—but not enough to see colors, only vague shapes.
Concrete, steel, and clumps of earth everywhere.
Inhaling sharply, I got dust into my lungs, which brought on a painful coughing fit. Muscles tensed, relaxed, and suddenly my other arm was free. My upper arm hurt like hell, and something was wrong with the last two fingers of my hand, but I managed to raise both hands to my face and scrub it until all the dust was gone.
Awareness slowly gave way to actual consciousness, if not rational thought. Clearly, we hadn't made it out of the blast radius, but the fact that I was still alive meant that we hadn't gotten caught in the primary explosion.
Checking my limbs next, I realized that I could feel every hurting inch of my body, but my right foot was trapped. I tried kicking at the massive chunk of concret
e that pinned my leg down from the middle of my shin to my toes, but it wouldn't budge.
Shit.
But I was alive. Alive. ALIVE!
A single tear of joy made it out of the corner of my eye, leaving a track down the side of my face.
I was alive. I'd beaten the odds, I'd cheated death. And it hadn't been entirely my doing.
Nate had kept his promise. He'd gotten me out of there alive. He'd protected me with his body, likely saving me from the worst of the blast, even if I felt as if I'd been picked up by a giant and smashed repeatedly into a wall. I dimly remembered lying on the ground, horrified, afraid, the scent of blood and earth filling my nostrils, his weight heavy on me. Now I was lying on my back, facing up. Where was he?
“Hey,” a gravely voice said out of the darkness to my left, an answer to my silent question.
Looking around, it took me a few moments to make out a head, shoulder, arm, and torso amidst the concrete blocks.
“Hey,” I replied, stretching as much as my trapped leg would allow to reach his hand. His fingers were as warm as I remembered, the calluses of them rough even on my dirt-caked skin.
“Are you okay?” Something in his voice nagged at the back of my mind, but it was hard enough to keep my thoughts straight with pain still radiating through my body whenever I moved, or took a breath.
“My leg is trapped, but I think I'm mostly unharmed.”
“Told you I'd get you out of there,” he whispered, then coughed. It was not a dry cough like mine had been, but an awful, wet sound. It reminded me of blood-soaked bandages and hands.
“You?” I asked, rising dread starting to tighten my throat.
“Me? Not so much,” he admitted, followed by another cough.
Moving forward as far as I could, I managed to look around a small boulder that lay between us. There was no color, but against the light fabric of his shirt, if terribly stained now, the spreading, dark patch looked exactly like what it was. Blood. He'd been speared by a rebar sticking out of the concrete slab he lay buried under.
“It's okay,” he murmured when I could think of nothing to say. “I've always known I'd die somewhere in horrible pain, alone.” He tried to laugh, but it turned into another horrible cough. How he could find humor for the remark was beyond me.
“You're not alone!” I retorted, my voice thick with tears that wouldn't quite come. I clenched his hand harder, and he gifted me with a sad smile.
“No, I'm not.”
His lids fluttered, then drifted closed, and my heart gave a painful pang much worse than any physical discomfort I felt until I saw his chest rise again. He kept his eyes shut for a while, as if it cost him what was left of his strength just to stay conscious.
The sound of voices coming from the direction of the dim light made me perk up, then shout when I thought I recognized Andrej’s. Within a few minutes, dust started raining down on me as rubble was moved, followed by blinding sunlight when the last piece finally fell away. I’d never been this happy to see familiar faces as when Andrej and Martinez pulled me out. But my elation was short-lived as I gestured at the hole in the cement blocks they had freed me from. “Nate’s still down there. But it’s not looking good.”
Andrej and Martinez traded looks, then Martinez crawled into the artificial cavern. I could hear his and Nate’s voice but not what was said, and a few moments later Martinez was back, looking concerned.
“Not good, but could be worse,” he offered, glancing around. “I need someone who’s a little stronger than me.”
One of Nate’s people who had been standing close was quickly recruited, and the two men disappeared one after the other again. Looking around, I only noticed now that the sun was still shining on my face, the likely reason for why my eyes were watering.
“Don’t worry, he’ll make it,” Andrej told me with a lot more confidence than the situation warranted.
“He was speared. Like, literally pierced by a rebar!” I ground out, disbelief heavy in my voice.
“Will leave nice scars,” came a dry remark from behind me. Whipping around, I saw Pia stagger toward us from where she moved away from the line of soldiers who had started to set up… a perimeter defense? At least that was what it looked like, with several of them crouching on the ground, guns and rifles out, propped up on makeshift barricades. All around us, people were dragged from the debris, looking as dirty and disheveled as I felt.
“Scars,” I deadpanned, unable to comprehend why they both sounded so calm. She gave me a toothy grin before she joined Martinez and the other guy below.
Looking at the settling dust around us, I got my first good view of the site, trying to find something to distract myself with before I got the news I really didn’t want to hear.
The Green Fields Biotech building was gone, plain and simple. Where the concrete-and-glass behemoth had towered over an entire city block, only a giant field of broken rubble remained. The detonations had broken the windows of close buildings, but all in all, the destruction was less catastrophic than I had expected.
It certainly didn’t account for the sirens wailing in the distance from all over town that I now noticed as the ringing sound in my ears lessened. Pulling out the earplugs, the sounds were amplified immediately, making the fine hairs on my forearms stand on end. Glass crashed somewhere in the distance, and a few shots rang out, followed by a scream that cut off suddenly.
Before I could look around and find the source of the noise, my attention was drawn back to the hole in the ground when the would-be rescuers emerged—dragging Nate along on unsteady feet, the foot of rebar still sticking out of his side. Everything inside of me screamed to run to him, to make sure that he was okay, but Andrej held me back before I could do more than tense.
Nate managed to remain upright as Martinez helped him onto a block of concrete before he focused on the rebar again. Nate’s jacket was gone, as was most of his shirt, cut away to inspect the wound.
“Just pull it out and glue me up,” Nate ground out, his eyes scanning the surroundings rather than focusing on what was about to happen to him. How this was even possible, I had no idea, but he actually did look better than he had sounded below.
“The wound will get infected,” Martinez objected but was already rummaging around in his pack for something.
“I’ll have to live another day or two to even get an infection, and that won’t happen if I have a fucking iron bar driven right through my abdomen,” Nate replied, just condescending enough to make the Ice Queen snort.
“True,” Martinez offered, making me twice as uncomfortable as moments before. “Then let’s hope that no major organs are ruptured, right?”
He didn’t wait for Nate’s reply—or even give him time to steel himself—but simply grabbed his shoulders, while Pia went for the rebar. One hard jerk and she staggered back, the bloody, rusty bar in her hand. Nate gave a low sound that held a lot more pain than any human was supposed to be able to tough out, but he remained upright even when Martinez let go of him to quickly grab a syringe that he’d readied before. It looked almost like a miniature glue gun, and seemed to work like that, too, as he inserted the nozzle-like tip and squeezed something into the wound on Nate’s front, and the rest at the back. Some kind of patches followed, and lots more bandages and gauze, yet they remained white except for the blood that had fountained out of the wound and now stuck all over Nate’s lower torso that Martinez hadn’t completely cleaned away.
Considering what else I’d seen today, I didn’t even protest the plausibility of this.
But there was still the bloody rebar and the heap of bloody, torn shirt, making me sick if I just looked at them. Turning around, I took a few steps away, out of the worst of the rubble and toward what had been the street in front of the building. The rescue effort seemed to be winding down now, most either accounted for or dead, and still no ambulances in sight. Also no onlookers drawn to the site by the incredible noise that a building coming down must have made.
&
nbsp; The only one I saw besides the soldiers was a young girl coming out of one of the houses down the street. She looked around, as disoriented as I felt, her eyes passing over the rubble and soldiers without snagging on anything. Her gaze moved on, skipping over me, slow enough to make me realize that her eyes were completely empty.
The cold fist of fear around my heart that had been my companion for the last hour inside the building returned, squeezing, whispering at me to run. Instead, I took a step toward her, then another, morbid curiosity warring with fright.
“Sweetie, are you okay?”
At the sound of my voice, her head jerked in my direction, sightless eyes remaining unfocused. She opened her mouth and closed it without making a sound, then again. She took a hesitant step toward me, mimicking me, then another, a little faster now.
“Bree?” I heard Nate call out behind me, but I ignored him. She was much closer now, stepping out into the sunshine, giving me a much better look at her. Too good a look, I realized, as what my eyes took in made my brain fire straight into the “flight” part of the fight or flight reaction.
Her eyes were glazed over, filmy, and looked so strange because the sockets around them were dark with subcutaneous bruising. In the shadows, her dark skin had hidden the blood caking her neck from where it had dripped from her ears, eyes, and nose. The underlying color of her skin was wrong, with an unhealthy tint that made it look like wax. But the worst were her fingers—bloody and broken from where she’d apparently clawed her way out, with no apparent regard for her health.
“What happened to you?” I asked under my breath, more to myself than her, but at the repeat sound of my voice, she gave a jerk.
And then she was coming at me in a surprising burst of speed that belied the former shuffling motion of her feet, her face turned into a feral grimace.
“Bree! Get down!”
I instantly dropped to the ground on Nate’s command, and not a second too early as a series of shots rang out from behind me, hitting the girl in the legs and chest. She went down without making a sound, but instead of bleeding out on the ground, her head snapped back up, her eyes still focused on me, and she started dragging herself forward, her legs useless from a bullet that must have ripped through her spinal cord. Scrambling back, I tried to put distance between us, but she only stopped when a last shot turned the right side of her face into so much bloody gore.
Green Fields: Incubation Page 27