The Green Fields Series Box Set: Books 1-3

by Adrienne Lecter

  We met up again about twenty minutes before our allotted meeting time—and found the group who had supposedly answered our message advancing from the south, eyeing us with all the suspicion and caution that we were likely portraying. They were only five people, coming on foot, but way beyond the town limits I could see a pickup truck sitting at the shoulder of the road that hadn’t been there before. The fact that it wasn’t covered in snow drifts was a dead giveaway. Like us, they were all armed, if not quite toting the same arsenal. Parkas and thick woolen hats covered them up well enough to make it impossible to recognize anyone—had we met them before, that is—but judging from height and size, I figured that all of them were men.

  They stopped about fifty yards away from where our two groups were spread across the road, not quite incidentally blocking the way over the bridge to where our cars were parked. One of them took a few steps closer, clearly the leader. We remained spread out—standing procedure until we could be sure that not another twenty would fall on us from the rear.

  “You the folks who left the black scrawl on the side of the house?” he called out, his voice a low baritone.

  “We are,” Burns replied, his assault rifle held maybe a hint more at ease than our other weapons. That we had them out shouldn’t have been alarming to the others, same as the fact that their hunting rifles were all just moments away from firing shots didn’t send off any warning bells. Even in a quiet town, a shambler could surprise you. And after nine months, I was sure that they’d learned that lesson.

  “You all look mighty well equipped,” a second guy remarked, sounding not exactly happy about that.

  “Just a precaution,” Martinez assured. “Unless you draw on us, we won’t gun you down for no reason. We’re just ready to defend ourselves and our gear.”

  The first guy nodded, still cautious but relaxing a little now that a minute had passed and no shot had been fired yet.

  “Name’s Roger. And this is Seth, my brother.” He nodded at the second speaker.

  “Nice to meet you, Roger. Seth,” Burns replied, deliberately not giving any name. Even with the hood of his parka up, I could see Roger frown, and he squinted at each of us in turn, although I got dismissed the quickest. Typical.

  “Who’s your leader?” he asked when he clearly came up blank.

  “That would be me,” Nate offered from where he’d been standing to the side, getting almost as little notice as me. Roger didn’t bother with looking appalled, though.

  “That all of you?”

  “No.”

  Listening to Nate’s singular answer, I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. I hated it when he did that to me, but it seemed rather effective when applied to others.

  Roger reached up with his free hand to scratch his chin. “Lemme guess. You’re not going to tell us how many more there are of you, and where your base is.”

  “Absolutely not,” Nate agreed, now smiling slightly himself. “But mostly because it doesn’t matter. Not because we’re complete conspiracy nuts, the lot of us.” Which was probably not quite true, but so not a topic for a first meeting.

  Roger nodded, understanding. “We have families home, too. You not from around here?”

  Nate hesitated, but then inclined his head. “But I’ve spent some quality time around before the shit hit the fan. Enough time to know the terrain, and have a place to get to.”

  “Guess you’re the guys who keep rounding up those fuckers?” He absently looked at a heap at the side of the road that I thought might have been a dog once, but I was probably deluding myself there. “Been making quite the racket over the past days.”

  Nate shrugged. “We ran into an entire mob of them two days ago, including women and children. Probably only turned a few weeks ago, judging from the state they were in. Might have become problematic if we’d just let them roam.”

  “Oh, not complaining here,” Seth interjected, offering a somewhat shaky laugh. “Just glad we didn’t need to risk our lives doing so. So, yeah, guess what I’m trying to say is thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Nate replied with a small nod. “That’s what we’re here for.”

  Silence fell as Roger and his men seemed to contemplate that.

  “So, you guys planning to stay?” he asked, squinting at us again. “Just sayin’, would be good to know that we have someone close who can handle themselves.”

  “Some of us will stay,” Nate replied surprisingly candid. “The rest of us will set out to get more gear. And food.”

  Roger nodded, although he didn’t look too happy about the news. “Guess you’re running on empty by now, too? We’ve been eating cold noodles for two weeks now. Just isn’t the same as bloody steak.”

  “Not had one of those in what feels like forever,” Nate replied. “We don’t really have much to share, but maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

  “Like what?” Seth sounded appropriately suspicious again.

  “As you said, we’ve been trying to clear up the region and keep it as safe as possible. We’ll also set up some fields as soon as the ground is ready to be farmed. But we could use some help, with both. Spread out the risk, if you know what I mean? The more people that are out on patrol and keep an eye on each other, the safer the entire region will be. The more different crops we sow in several places, the least likely that they will all fail. And if you want to, we can see if we find whatever else you need. We still have a decent amount of bandages and batteries stocked up, if you’re running out of those.”

  Roger and Seth looked at each other, then at their men, before Roger answered.

  “And why should we trust you? No offense, but we’ve heard stories. And you’re clearly equipped to make quite the nuisance of your fine selves if you so choose.”

  “Stories about us?” Nate asked, an almost teasing quality to his voice that immediately set my nerves on edge.

  “No, no. Just folks in general,” Roger was quick to qualify. “You know, them going mad. Doing things no sane man would do. Putting the rotting fuckers to shame, even.”

  “You mean like cannibals?” I asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. I was certain that I’d get a glare or two from Nate for that, but unless I was completely mistaken, this really wasn’t a setup. And besides, they would have had to be blind not to realize that I was a woman.

  Seth didn’t even bat an eyelash at getting a confirmation of what I was hiding under all those layers of insulation. “Yes, ma’am. Just last week we heard of another convoy that disappeared. Nasty business.”

  That could have been for many reasons, but I had to admit, it wasn’t hard to jump to certain conclusions.

  “You heard? Were there any survivors?”

  He shook his head. “Came over the radio. Someone found a couple of cars, burned out, still smoldering. They didn’t even raid the gear first, but just set the things on fire. Two bodies burned, too. Small kids, too small to pack enough meat, you know?”

  I wondered why Dave hadn’t relayed that story to us; normally, he was quick to whip out the newest gossip.

  “Any idea where that was?” Nate asked, not exactly concerned but properly cautious.

  Roger shook his head. “Didn’t hear it from the source. Hell, even they didn’t hear it from anyone firsthand.” He spat out, then looked at me with an almost guilty expression, but I didn’t react. Really, if he thought that would upset me, how did he think I’d survived this far? Although Emma would have frowned. Sadie, probably laughed.

  “We’ll keep an ear out. Stay alert,” Nate replied.

  “Did you really mean that about getting stuff for us, too?” one of the other guys suddenly spoke up, sounding hopeful.

  Nate nodded. “Can’t promise we’ll find everything, but we’ll try.” Glancing to Roger and Seth, he addressed the entire group. “Why don’t we meet again next week, same day, same time, so you can check your stocks and write us a list? And talk to the other people in your group what they say about banding together
to keep all of us safe and fed. No problem if you don’t want to opt in. We’ll still try to get you what you need even if you want to stay to yourselves.”

  Roger and Seth both agreed, their silence otherwise making it obvious that they’d said everything they’d come here to say. But before we could call it a day, Seth spoke up again.

  “There are a few more people around. At least two more groups that we know of. If you want, we can ask what they think about this thing. Like a neighborhood watch, right?”

  “Pretty much that, yeah.”

  “We’ll ask,” Seth agreed. “You mind if some of them maybe come here next week, too? They’ll probably be more ready to throw their lot in with you if they can see for themselves that you’re decent folks.” Of course he was looking at me when he said that, but that didn’t come as a surprise. Quite the world we were living in that suddenly, the way men treated women would make a difference.

  “Tell them to come,” Nate said. “And feel free to tell them that we’ll again have snipers ready to help cover our retreat should they be up to no good.”

  That got the expected scared glances all around, although I was sure that Nate had just told them a lie. Or not. Come to think of it, it was kind of suspicious that both Bailey and Collins had remained behind, although neither was up for watch detail today. Huh. What did I know? It wasn’t like I was screwing the leader, or something.

  Our little powwow dissolved quickly after that, Roger, Seth, and their men retreating while we waited until their pickup was well out of town. Then it was high time for us to return home with the news, so that whoever was—potentially—lying up on one of those hills on the frozen ground could pack up and leave, too. After all, we came bearing good news—or so I hoped. Only time would tell.

  Chapter 4

  It was just seven days until we were back in Meeteetse, but everything had changed in that span of just a week.

  Well, not everything; we were still just a bunch of survivors trying to continue to stay alive in the zombie apocalypse. But some things had changed, and they made more of a difference than I’d expected. For one, spring was finally coming, and there was no denying that now. The mountains were still capped in white, but in the lowlands, the ground was thawing, water running everywhere. The grass was still brown but the first green leaves were slowly fighting their way through the overgrown thickets. Game animals returned gradually, now that we’d done away with what had been preying on them, but few and far between compared to last fall. It stood to hope that their populations would explode, with food in abundance now and our quickly hatched plan taking care of their peek predators. It still rankled that homo sapiens—at least the living kind—was no longer at the top of the food chain, but I was sure that somewhere, hidden away in a field of weed, some hippies were rejoicing. But more game would mean more food this year when the next winter approached, and hopefully not a repeat of the applesauce-pocalypse. So much for zombies doing away with first-world problems.

  The other thing that changed was the general air inside our camp. During the winter months, cabin fever had been an issue, but one that was usually dealt with swiftly, either through exercise, extra guard duty, or a quick smackdown on the training mats in the bunker basement. I’d found that kind of hilarious at first, until one too many of the guys had teased me on those certain days when I had a particularly short fuse—and not always for the reason they expected—and even if I lost a lot more fights than I won, just being able to punch someone in the face without expecting to get reprimanded for it later had a certain cathartic feeling to it. Now, everyone was turning restless to a certain degree, but it was a different kind of dynamic, a different kind of energy. It took me a few days to pin down, but eventually I realized what it was.

  We were all looking forward to being out on the road again—even if that meant sleeping rough, maybe not eating for days, and certainly risking our hides. But it also meant to be free, out under the endless sky, and with the ultimate chance for some much-needed payback. Sure, we might not be able to hunt down and kill every fucking shambler from the Rockies straight to the Appalachians, but we certainly could cull them if they were stupid enough to cross our path.

  It went without saying that Emma wasn’t too thrilled about the developments, but as an Army wife she knew better than to try to talk us out of it. I was well aware that this kind of bloodthirstiness wasn’t healthy—at least to me it was as strange as it was sick—but I didn’t feel like it was an alien part of me any longer. Maybe that should have bothered me—and on some level it did—but I knew that the day I started denying that part of me was the day I was going to bite it.

  There was a lot more debate about how many people—and who—should go to the meeting this time, and I expected things to escalate into a real fight before Nate and Emma agreed that they would both bring some of theirs—six people who would leave, and three who would stay. I was surprised when both Collins and Moore decided to remain at the bunker rather than go with us. Bailey and Clark—who’d arrived on their own at the bunker, weeks before us—were on board, though, equalizing our numbers again. Bert was confident that he could work with just the three of them for guards while Sadie and Emma would do most of the other stuff. Then again, I’d seen both of them shoot; in a pinch, they could easily do a cleanup circuit all by themselves. It still sounded unwise to broadcast just how few of us would remain behind, so we decided to simply not tell anyone. Emma, Bert, and Collins would come to the meeting, and take it from there. The rest of us was just there for show.

  This time, we arrived much closer to noon, finding several cars and the people who’d driven them already waiting for us. Even more gathered as we got out of the cars, until there were almost fifty people standing in the street along what had been the food strip of this fine town once. A few had come on their own, others had packed up their entire family, it seemed. All—without a fault—were armed, and more than one face was gaunt after a long, hard winter spent with not enough food, and that second rate quality at best.

  Within five minutes of the official greeting round, Emma had taken charge, explaining her—or rather, Sadie’s—plans for farming, and Bert took over where it came to security. Nate and I remained standing behind them and to the side, listening but not really participating. We would be gone in a few days, and they’d have to fend for themselves until we returned. Yet as I continued to listen to the many voices that were speaking up, both confident and timid, the sense that this wouldn’t be a problem became stronger and stronger. I probably wouldn’t have trusted any of these people to stay over at the bunker and not murder me in my sleep, but they sounded sincere as they agreed to work out plans for patrols and farming alike. In the end, five people alone might have a hard time surviving, but two hundred stood a much better chance, particularly well-spread out over western Wyoming as they were. Names were exchanged, as was food, medicine, knowledge, and ammo, and by the time we split up again to return home, a new sense of purpose hung in the air. And unless something similar started up in the east of the state, I had a certain feeling that the next governor—or what came close to that—would bear the name of Emma Hughes.

  We also left the meeting with an entire bunch of papers covered in lists containing the most obvious and obscure item requests imaginable. Some of them were so non-practical that I was sure that Nate would strike them off as soon as he read them, but, all in all, people’s requests weren’t too strange. I still found it a little peculiar that Nate hadn’t batted an eyelash at the idea that we, of all people, would set out on an altruistic quest to feed and clothe our people, but then again, it made sense. We weren’t going to play heroes for nothing, and in our absence, the promise of goods and trade would keep the others of our group safe.

  When all that remained of a good tenth of a million of people were a few hundred, it was hard not to try to save as many as possible.

  The day the first neighborhood patrol hit the roads, driving a sixty mile circuit with four pickup tru
cks carrying more ammo and weapons than people in weight, we set out as well.

  Chapter 5

  With no clear destination in mind but a shopping list spanning five pages, we set out east. The effort of gathering intel of who was squatting where had come with one benefit—we could now say just how far the state had turned into a wasteland, and where zombies were possibly still roaming. We hadn’t been the only ones who’d been trying to keep their doorsteps free, if probably the most organized about it. It was likely that there were still more people out there in the eastern part of the state, but the Interstates served as a rather efficient demarcation line. So the practical first step was to traverse I-25 and go looking for both signs of habitation and possible locations to find what we were looking for somewhere between Casper and Gillette. Depending on how bad—or not—the zombie problem was near the larger population centers, we might even try to hit them next, but I didn’t expect that this was a good option—at least not yet.

  Staying cautious as usual, we kept to the small roads, only skipping onto wider thoroughfares if we couldn’t avoid it. Remaining exposed to the elements for months now, most of the cars we passed were in rather desolate states of destruction. As we’d seen before, the zombies had been smart enough to escape their steel confines and ravage everything edible and easily accessible inside, adding to the damage, but also making sure that there weren’t any decomposed corpses in there anymore. No, those were all over the sides of the roads, scoured down to bare bones that scavengers had picked clean. We passed up the cars completely, only checking the odd truck to see if there was anything left in there, but we clearly weren’t the first ones who’d had that idea.

  We spent the first night huddled together in an abandoned barn, happy to be out of the wind. None of the excitement about being finally free of the bunker and our rigid schedule had worn off yet, and I couldn’t help but feel just a little idealistic. Most of the people that Emma had started to organize into the watch detail had looked at us as if we were crazy, but I really didn’t mind being out in the open. The cars had done a great job protecting us, even before all the upgrades, so I felt pretty confident about weathering out almost anything fate could slap in our faces.