I could get used to this—and something deep inside of me told me that I would.
The first step on my road to recovery was done. Next up: make Bucky regret he had ever even heard of me.
Chapter 22
We were drawing close to our destination a little after the last rays of the sun disappeared to the west, moderately unscathed from the dropping temperatures. Maybe five miles into our trek, the French had led us into a network of trenches and tunnels, keeping the bite of the wind mostly at bay. Some of those structures could have been remnants from either of the World Wars—or maybe even older; I was a little rusty where French history was concerned—but a lot must have been dug within the last year, judging from the lack of vegetation in parts.
About an hour in, Cole caught up to where I was trundling alongside Nate and Burns. He ignored me as he handed two packs of nuts to Burns. Burns snickered, chucking one to me when he saw me watching. “As usual, half of the spoils of war are yours.”
Ah, that explained it, or at least gave me an idea. Smirking at Cole, I observed, “So you were actually stupid enough to bet against me? At the very least you should have the common sense of trusting someone’s judgment who’s been out and about with me for a year and a half.”
“In hindsight, maybe,” Cole admitted as he got a third pack out to tear into himself. Some of them seemed to carry an unlimited supply of nuts, probably more than ammo, and we already lugged around enough of that to make random explosions likely.
“Why, what was the bet about?” My question was met with silence, even if it was of the chewing meditatively kind. “Oh, come on! I deserve to know. The least you can do for doing shit like that.” It wasn’t the first—or even tenth—time this had happened, but usually there was only gloating with the utter lack of holding back involved. And judging from the grin on Burns’s face, I wanted to hear this.
Cole continued to debate with himself but eventually relented. “After that misguided attempt of you and Hamilton trying to put each other in your respective places at the destroyer gym, I asked Burns here if it was your usual MO to start something you knew you couldn’t finish. He laughed in my face and bet that it would take you less than two weeks to stir up some serious shit.”
I shot Burns an amused sidelong glance. “Yeah, anyone could have told you so. Now spill the rest.”
Burns chortled at me not being that easily thrown off. Cole grunted. “And he claimed it would be something I felt you were right about. Sounded like an easy bet to win because what shit could you possibly stir up in the middle of nowhere, and even less so something I’d agree with you over a direct order? But turns out, he was right.” He paused, markedly to check how far ahead of us Hamilton was. “You know that, usually, in the field, direct insubordination ends with a bullet between the eyes?”
“Like I care,” I chuffed. “If he was allowed to just kill me, Hamilton would have done it a long time ago. Whatever else he ranted about yesterday, he never said he wouldn’t kill me if it suited him, only that my death might inconvenience him because of the fallout it would cause. And me accidentally switching off my radio so I couldn’t hear any order that might have been given is likely the reason why we’ll sleep somewhere warm and cozy tonight, with our bellies full of something other than cardboard.”
Cole still wasn’t impressed. “If that’s how you organized your rebellion, it’s a real wonder you didn’t all end up getting eaten on day one.”
I gave him the most brilliant smile I could manage. “Oh, the others usually do follow orders. Can’t take half a lifetime of serving out of a guy just like that. But I’m special.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” came Nate’s mutter from up ahead, but I could tell that he was smiling, too.
Cole snorted. “Are you going to keep stirring up shit now that you’ve proven that you’re an eternal troublemaker?”
“Why, would you want me to stop?”
Cole considered his reply, and I didn’t like the knowing look he gave me. “It’s way more entertaining this way,” he admitted. “And kudos to you. You’re a way better actress than they told us you’d be.”
I didn’t quite get that—mostly because, as much as I hated to admit, I did a shit job hiding my emotions most of the time.
Case in point, a frown flitted over Cole’s expression. “Shit. You really don’t know.”
“I usually know more than people think,” I offered, trying to bullshit my way through this until he’d drop a hint or two. When he didn’t, I shrugged, trying hard to hide my returning annoyance. “Come on. Doesn’t all that baiting the bitch get old eventually? Sure, I get it. The guys have told me, time and again, that me having hissy fits like a cat can be amusing, but I think we’re past that. I’d be a lot more useful if I knew why the powers that be forced me to tag along. We all know it’s not because I’m the most accomplished fighter.”
I hadn’t expected him to reply—I’d tried the very same spiel more than once and had never gotten an answer, let alone a satisfying one—but after another glance toward the front of our column, Cole opened his mouth.
“You probably remember the part where Miller’s brother was looking for a way to stop turning us into zombies once we die?” Both Nate and Burns did a bad job hiding that they were suddenly very interested as well. I nodded. That tidbit was hard to forget, even more so as it impacted my life—and what came after—now as well.
“Yeah, I read his files. Even handed a bunch of them to Raynor,” I reminded him.
Cole snorted at my attempt to look like I wasn’t ready to jump him and choke the answer right out of him. “Well, rumor has it, he was a lot closer to solving that than anyone else knew. In fact, one of the people he had been cooperating with apparently found the answer.” When I just kept staring at him, his face split into a grin. “We’re here to get the cure.”
“The cure to what?” I asked, disbelief and hope waring for dominance in my mind, almost choking me up with sudden excitement.
Before I got my answer, we had to climb out of the ditch, cross a road, and disappear into the next tunnel, and by that time, Cole had hung back to where Hill and Munez were guarding our rear. I couldn’t help but vexedly cluck my tongue, which made Burns chuckle all the more.
“You’re too easy sometimes,” he professed.
“First time you’d be complaining about that,” I offered, deciding to drop the point. I wasn’t even sure he could have given me an answer had he wanted to—and it made much more sense to continue to string me along after throwing me that morsel. And what food for thought that was. It was rather unexpected that I could put Cole down on the list of those that might not shoot me in the back of the head out of spite. No idea if that sentiment would survive the next hour or two.
Two more tunnels and through what might have been a forward guard post—now abandoned, the dug-out walls covered in ice—and we ended up at the edge of a small plateau, forest on two sides bordering the overgrown meadow. The French moved forward without hesitation with only the most cursory glance around for danger, making my own paranoia surge. There were no roads leading forward, not even a dirt track, but the snowy grass wasn’t undisturbed.
We were way past the halfway point toward the woods when the guy we’d been talking to before stopped, his raised hand a universal gesture that didn’t need translation. Bucky still barked at Gita to ask him what was going on, but the man ignored them both. He let out a sequence of whistles that sounded eerily haunting in the cold air of early evening, carrying across the entire open field around us.
A similar sequence answered from somewhere over by the trees, making a few of the soldiers turn that way, hands tightening on weapons. Two short, shrill whistles came from seemingly out of nowhere from the barren meadow to our right. The guy gave a brief nod to his people, then signaled us to follow. He kept heading in the same direction as before rather than ambling for either checkpoint. Ahead, there was a small hill by a ditch—maybe the border between two fields—an
d it took another minute of us heading in that direction before I realized our path was curving toward the other side of that small elevated point.
It was when we were almost halfway around it that I noticed the group of at least twenty people standing at what looked like an arbitrary point in the next field over, clearly waiting for us. A few of the others drew up short in surprise, but no one was stupid enough to shoot. When the French guy stopped this time, he let a string of words fly at Gita. “He’s telling us to wait,” she explained. As soon as her words were out, he motioned his people forward, apparently trusting us not to follow. We didn’t, although the twist that came to Bucky’s mouth was rather amusing. He really didn’t like being told what to do. Made it almost tempting to try to weasel a deal out of Raynor on our return that made it mandatory for him to listen to me. Almost.
As soon as our French merged with the other group, the low burr of voices in hushed conversation rose, but I doubted that even Gita managed to catch more than a snippet of that. There didn’t seem to be anyone they reported to, several people talking over each other. It took them a good five minutes to sort things out, and a lone figure started off toward us. It was a woman, easily a head taller than me, looking reed-thin even in the layers of winter clothes she was wearing. I didn’t see her carrying a weapon but I was sure that she was armed. As she drew closer, I could see her features better; she had a rather symmetric face with high cheekbones that lent her the flawless beauty of a fashion model, except for the jagged scar that ran from her left jaw over her brow to disappear behind the dark, broad scarf that was wound across her forehead, holding back a riot of dark, short coils. Behind her, about a third of the waiting group merged with those we’d followed here, all of them heading toward the mound. There must have been a door leading to a cellar or bunker hidden there because it took them all of a minute to be swallowed up by the ground, leaving us facing the remaining guards. They were armed, if not wearing any kind of discernible uniform. In fact, they reminded me a lot of hundreds of traders I’d met on the road this year.
The woman stopped about ten feet from us, far enough away that should we start any funny business, she might have a head start running, but close enough that we could talk without shouting.
“I am Elle Moreau,” she introduced herself. “We have been expecting you.” Her voice was deep and full, her French accent obvious while her English was fluent, if with a certain British lilt, and something else that I couldn’t place.
Her words made me crack a smile I hadn’t known was so ready to appear. Oh, this was going to be good, I just knew it! And judging from the light frown on Bucky’s forehead, he knew it as well.
To be continued in Green Fields book #9
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you goes out to my beta reader team. You are amazing, and my books have improved so much since I found you! Also, my sanity.
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Oh no, another cliffhanger! And thanks to the feedback I got from my beta readers, it’s 2x worse than I intended it to be! Speak about needing book #9 ASAP. Don’t worry, I’m on it! One thing I can tell you already: it’s going to be one hell of a ride!
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Exodus: Green Fields #9
Dedication
To M
Because I’d go back for you, too. Maybe.
(he laughed when he read it)
What happened in the Green Fields Series so far:
Nate Miller is a man on a mission—and that mission is to find out how exactly his brother died, and who is responsible for it. He recruits Bree Lewis, a virologist, to help him, even if she doesn’t know it yet. They end up destroying the virus that killed Nate’s brother—and turned him into a zombie—but it is too late. The zombie apocalypse is already happening.
With Nate’s group of mercenaries and a few others who join along the way, they flee the city, barely escaping a mob of zombies that devours everything in its way. Scared and hungry, they start their trek across the country. Their destination: a shelter in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, half a continent away. With rations and ammunition running low, they soon have to resort to looting the dead to stay ahead of the undead hordes. And the zombies are not the only thing out there ready to end their lives.
After spending the winter in their bunker in Wyoming, it is time for the gang to rediscover the world out there. With a loose trade network emerging, there is always need for someone to go raid a mall. They end up hunting super zombies in Sioux Falls, and take out the cannibal compound in Illinois—but at a cost paid in blood. Bree, grieving for her friend, isn’t sure any longer if the scavenger life is right for her. When they deliver the survivors of the cannibal camp to Aurora, Kansas, she finds out that not only are there efforts being made to find a cure for the zombie virus, but she is also offered to take over as leader of the laboratory. Her enthusiasm takes a hit when she learns just how far the super soldier program went that Nate and some of her friends have been a part of, turning elite soldiers into ticking time bombs. The new world order discriminates against their former hidden weapons, exiling them to a life on the road.
Forever leaving her calling of science and academia behind, after some kicking and screaming Bree embraces her place in the new world—at Nate’s side, as co-leader of the Lucky Thirteen, merry band of misfit scavengers and zombie killers.
Only others have different plans for her.
Ambushed by Nate’s former friend and now head honcho of what remains of the army, Capt. “Bucky” Hamilton, Bree narrowly survives getting savaged by the undead, leaving her with some disadvantages, but also immune to the virus. That unique circumstance puts her on the radar of a rogue faction of soldiers and scientists, who have her kidnapped. Bree survives and escapes her white-tiled prison to swear bloody vengeance on Taggard and his men, but those plans have to be suspended when the better half of what remains of the Lucky Thirteen either die or get severely wounded in an ambush set for
them. With no other option, Pia, Burns, Nate, and Bree travel across the country to southern California and the by-now infamous settlement of New Angeles—only to find Gabriel Greene, the very first man to make her kill list, in charge of the city, and in possession of the information they need to plot an end to the headhunt on scavengers all over the country.
People rally to Bree’s call for resistance, and, hundreds strong, they attack the base in the mountains of Colorado where their adversary has settled down. Fighting soldiers and zombies alike, they win—forcing Bucky Hamilton to agree to a truce that puts an end to the civil war raging between the fronts, bringing peace to the shattered nation just before winter is coming.
All actions have consequences, and Bree quickly finds out that hers aren’t the exception. What she thought was immunity to the zombie virus she got from the bites has festered into a systemic infection, turning her life into her worst nightmare—she’s rotting from the inside out. What started as a casual last run to maybe get some information at the Silo turns into a fight for survival against the snow and cold, wolves, the undead—and all that with her own body having morphed into a ticking time bomb. With hours left to live, they make it to the Canadian base where one of the serum project’s lead scientists has set up shop since before the apocalypse, and Emily Raynor is her last hope for survival. Yet a nasty surprise is also waiting for them: no other than Bucky Hamilton is in charge of the defense of the base, and he wastes no time putting Bree, too weak to fight anymore, in her place. She gets inoculated with the super soldier serum, and against all odds survives the horrific operation required to rid her body of all its decaying parts. Rather than letting her and Nate go, Raynor forces them to accept her proposition: work for her and her soldiers in turn for her doing her very best to fix Martinez’s grave injuries that left him paralyzed. With “no” not being an acceptable answer, they find themselves agreeing to join the mission led by Hamilton—and they are heading to Europe.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 72