Bree’s road to recovery is a rocky one, particularly as time is as much her enemy as her limiting circumstances. As soon as they land on the French coast near the town of Cabourg, the fight for survival is on, and very soon they realize that things turned out quite differently in Europe. While picking up the first clues for their mission, Bree gets injured, but the resulting surgery she needs comes with a bonus—when she wakes up the next day, her mind is clear and her body functioning properly for the first time in weeks. The serum is working, and she soon gets to test her own limits, rescuing a group of French scouts from a mob of zombies. They agree to bring our motley crew to their headquarter near Ajou, the base of the Resistance they have been looking for since the coast.
But not all is going as well as it should. Hamilton spills the beans that one of the ghosts of Nate’s past, a recruiter named Decker, is still alive, and might be gunning for his former protégé—whose wife is, of course, an obstacle that needs to be taken care of. While Bree doesn’t trust Hamilton to tell the truth, Nate seems deeply disturbed, forcing them to consider what they will be doing after they return back home.
Chapter 1
“I am Elle Moreau. We have been expecting you.”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile, which the tall, dark-skinned woman returned. Bucky Hamilton, next to me? Not so much, but, if anything, that was a bonus. This was going to be good, I just knew it!
Ignoring me, he focused on the French woman. “You’re welcome,” he huffed out, making a show of crossing his arms over his chest, making himself appear more at ease than I knew he was. It helped that he was the only one of us who’d put away his weapons, not that he needed them at close range to be deadly. “For saving your people’s asses.”
Elle’s mouth twisted as she compressed her lips, but she didn’t comment.
I should probably have let Hamilton handle this, but I was still too hyper to just stand there and gloat. Slaughtering what had felt like a million zombies—and feeling like myself for the first time in fucking forever—would do that to you. “It’s great to finally meet some people,” I offered. “Haven’t encountered a single living soul all the way from the coast until this afternoon.” It seemed like a good idea not to stress that it was true that we were the only reason why the group we’d encountered—presumably a part of the French Resistance here near Ajou—was still alive. I was sure that they would sing our praises in time if they were so inclined.
The woman’s eyes skipped from Bucky to me, and her features evened out into a more pleasant expression. Apparently, we had something in common already in our dislike for the asshole in charge.
“No wonder. Now that it’s winter, we have withdrawn most of our lookouts,” she professed. “You would have had to know where the remaining posts are to encounter anyone.” Her gaze skipped to Bucky once more for a second but returned to me as she went on. “Thank you for helping Noah and his group. They got delayed yesterday because of bad weather and had to find a different route back. We will have trouble with the influx of corpse eaters so close to our base, but we appreciate your effort in trying to cull the hunting ones.”
And she was great at delivering backhanded compliments. I could see us getting along splendidly already. She didn’t react to my grin, but I was sure that she noticed it.
Bucky finally remembered his manners, or figured introducing himself was a good way to draw her attention away from me. “I’m Capt. Hamilton, United States Army, and these are my men.” No mention of rejects this time, for once. That was a pleasant surprise. “I would like to talk to whoever is in charge here.”
Elle held his challenging gaze evenly. “You are talking to her,” she stated rather coolly—and turned to me. Booyah! “It is a pleasure welcoming you, Dr. Lewis. We have been hoping to have the honor of meeting you in person for a long time, but dared not expect that it would come to this encounter.” My smile grew exponentially, and not just because she was blowing Bucky off. My name she could have gotten from talking to the survivors, but my background? Not so much. I had a certain idea where she’d gotten that information from, going along with her statement that they’d been expecting us.
Question was whether that was a good thing or not. I was sure it was only a matter of time until we found out. For now, I was ready to take whatever positive fate slammed in my way.
“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied jovially, taking a step forward so I was standing closer to her than Bucky was. Let the grown-ups talk.
Hamilton had other ideas. “Listen—“
He shut up when Elle gave him a scathing glare, and yet again she addressed me instead. “I was under the impression that these were your guards? Is this man speaking for you?”
I quickly responded before Bucky could. “No, he is definitely not.”
Elle cocked her head to the side, a light frown of confusion making her brows draw together. “Are you in any kind of duress, Dr. Lewis? I only brought a fraction of the fighters that are stationed in the base up with me as I didn’t want to turn our welcome into a hostile gesture, but I can have two hundred more ready within five minutes.”
Oh, and there it was, the second opportunity of the day to figuratively bend Bucky over the next hard surface. Yet as tempted as I was, like with fighting the undead, I already knew I had to pass it up. It was still highly amusing to see a wave of tension run through his guys as if the better part of them was afraid I’d sic my newfound French friends on them. Part of me was a little offended. Nobody had actually expected me to wade into a sea of zombies, and I hadn’t hesitated to join them for a moment. The least I deserved was a modicum of trust. The smart thing would have been to disband their unease immediately before any accidents could happen, but I just couldn’t help myself. Turning to Bucky, I gave him a calculating look. “What do you think? Do I have any reason whatsoever to ask for assistance?”
Bucky’s stoic glare was surprisingly satisfying; that he, for once, didn’t offer up a slur-ridden opinion, too. Behind him, I saw Hill trying to give me a look of warning, while Cole’s reaction was more of a, “Seriously? I thought you were better than this,” heavily mixed with exasperation. Well, that wouldn’t do. In this, they definitely acted differently from my guys as, even in the gloom, I could make out Burns’s bright grin that was so ready to cheer on any shit I was about to stir up. Ah, well. Baby steps, I reminded myself. As much as taunting Bucky could have become my new purpose in life—and a very fulfilling one at that—I still had to deal with the others, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice all the hard-earned respect I’d gained by being a petty bitch.
Addressing Elle, I did my best to appear jovial as I responded. “Of course not. As I already told your friends, for me there are only two sides in this conflict—the living and the dead. Survival always has to supersede personal issues we may or may not have with one another. If you could spare some shelter for the night for us and maybe an opportunity to exchange information, we would be much obliged.”
The previous tension drained from Elle, making me wonder if she chalked my antics up to inside jokes she wasn’t privy to, or misguided American grandstanding that cultured Europeans didn’t feel the need to concern themselves with. Probably the latter. I really didn’t give a shit either way, as her next words were warm—and inviting to everyone present.
“Of course. And we can provide much better than simple bare necessities.” She gestured toward where her guards were posted. “Please follow me to our main entrance. There is room aplenty where you can store your dirty gear”—which meant pretty much everything we were carrying—“underground. It will be safe there but of course you are free to post guards as you see fit. Please.” She waited for me to join her, then led the way herself, the guards already dispersing.
I knew something was off with me when I didn’t feel the slightest thread of trepidation come up inside of me considering the setup waiting for us. So far, most settlements hadn’t exactly been welcoming to us, and my experience with the few mi
litary bases was far from pleasant, for different reasons. Sure, Elle had—so far—done nothing to provoke any suspicion from me, but trusting wasn’t exactly an attribute I would have assigned to myself any longer. As much as Hamilton’s obvious ire amused me, exacerbating it wasn’t enough of a motive to head blindly into danger. But I also seemed to lack concern about my lack of threat-assessment paranoia, so I figured, what the hell. Someone else would likely have spoken up if they’d thought we were headed into actual danger.
About halfway to what appeared to be a heavy iron or steel door leading underground, Elle paused for a second, hesitating. “I’m afraid we will have to insist on a safety check before letting you into the base proper. You have proven that you can handle yourselves in a fight, but there is always the risk of infection.”
I’d been waiting for something like this. Glancing at Bucky, who was following close enough that he could have tripped over my heels had I slowed down just a little, I found him giving me a blank stare. Apparently this was my circus now, and my monkeys.
“Most of us can’t actually get infected,” I professed, closely watching Elle’s reaction. She gave none—including surprise—which made me guess she was at least somewhat aware of this. That made me wonder if she also knew the potential consequences. “But I presume that’s only part of your concern?”
She gave a curt nod. “You are allowed to bring weapons into our base but only in reasonable quantities. For safety reasons, any explosives will have to remain with your gear. We have showers ready that you can use.” Showers we were in dire need of, which she omitted to note. “While you are cleaning up, we will quickly inspect what items you want to bring inside, and after you pass inspection that none of you have any open wounds that could be infected, you are free to enter the base. Should you object, you can still access the showers and we will provide food and water, but I’m afraid that you will need to remain in the outer storerooms.”
Probably the most elaborate way of telling someone you wanted to see them naked, but it wasn’t like I’d expected anything else. It was funny to see both Bucky and Red look a little squeamish. Apparently, we filthy scavengers had been treated very differently than the brave soldiers were used to. I felt tempted to tell Elle that I could kiss her for that, and considering that she was French, she might just let me. Maybe not.
“Our security measures amuse you?” she inquired, her tone gently chiding.
Grinning, I shook my head. “Not that different from how we handle things at home. Although, in most places, we didn’t get showers and hot food until after negotiating, so this is actually a step up.”
She looked downright appalled at that but moved on when I didn’t elaborate. I was dying to know more about how she knew who I was, but clearly, showers first.
The heavy steel doors opened up onto concrete stairs, leading into a large room lined with empty shelves. Already, it was warm inside, almost balmy compared to the outside environs. The air inside wasn’t stale so I figured they had good ventilation, but the scent of burning wood from the torches—actual, Medieval-style torches—tickled my nostrils. There were two other doors leading from the concrete oval room farther into the base. Seeing as the guards barred the entrance to the left, I presumed the showers would be behind the right one.
“Please take all the time you need with stowing your gear away. Once you have passed the check, you are free to return here anytime to get something or clean your things,” Elle instructed. “When you are ready, please hand everything you want to bring inside the base to the guards. Your things will be waiting for you on the other side. We have racks for cleaning your clothes by the shower room. You can undress there for easy convenience.” Her eyes briefly skipped over the lot of us—counting heads, I figured. “You are free to decide on how you want to split up your group. The showers have room for around ten people. You can do the ladies first—“
I didn’t miss exactly how miserable both Gita and Rodriguez looked at that idea, so I spoke up quickly.
“The five of us will go first.” I indicated me and my people. “The rest can draw straws for all I care. I’m sure they have their own preferences.”
Elle didn’t ask about the distinction, but I was sure that she’d noticed that, for the most part, the five of us had differently colored gear and lacked any form of rank or group insignia. Well, I had a feeling that she’d soon get to see mine.
“Perfect. I will leave you to coordinate now, and tell the cook to get dinner started.” The guards let her through the left door but immediately closed it after her, the sound of several deadbolts engaging from the other side somewhat ominous.
I wondered if we should coordinate with the others, but seeing as Bucky was still silent, I left it at dropping my things on a shelf, peeling myself out of the worst of the outer layers that were dirty as hell, and grabbed some clean clothes from my pack before handing them—and my knife, handguns, and quickly cleaned boots—to the guards. The others followed suit while the soldiers were more or less waiting for someone to tell them what to do. I was sure that Red would start the briefing once it was obvious that we couldn’t listen in anymore. Again it occurred to me that, just maybe, I should have been a little more paranoid, but so far, nothing had set me off. The truth was, I was tired, exhausted, in dire need of that shower, and longing to spend some downtime without having to watch my back, preferably somewhere cozy and warm. If the French wanted to kill us, they could have easily gunned us all down outside their neat little bunker, rather than letting us inside where there was blood to be washed off later.
And speaking of washing off blood—not only was there electric lighting in the room lined with shower stalls, but they had hot, running water. The level of care I had in me for who was about to see my naked, scarred, scrawny ass was quickly dropping toward zero.
It took me a few minutes to ditch the rest of my clothes. Most of it went straight into the trash bags provided for that very cause. Not being able to do proper cleaning beyond what hastily stuffed-in baby wipes would accomplish, I’d expected to have developed some lovely rashes in the meantime, but except for dirty skin ready to be scraped off, there was only the bandage from Parker’s hack job of a surgery that needed any attention. The scar was already fading, no longer angry red, but the general area was still tender. Maybe if I could go another day or two without anyone poking me there, it would heal for good. The bruises I’d accumulated from today’s fight were much more visible all over my body.
As usual under these circumstances, I did my best not to get a faceful of anyone’s body parts that I didn’t need to see too closely before I hopped into a stall, only moderately surprised that Nate followed. The stalls were large enough to accommodate two people, and seeing as I had a week of sweat and grime, with some undefinable fluids from earlier today, plastered on my back, I didn’t mind having someone handy who could wash it all off. I certainly wouldn’t have minded a lot more physical contact of a different nature, but I didn’t want to subject the others to having to listen to that. Nate appeared indifferent himself so I took that as a sign that he was thinking along the same lines.
They had real shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in an overflowing rack inside the stall, not just something that was closer to dish soap than personal hygiene products. Ah, the luxury. I was liking the French more and more by the second.
I perfectly hated having to admit that I was as clean as I was going to get—and, more importantly, having to leave the hot stream of water—but as I stepped out to grab a towel to dry off, I did my best not to let much of that show. Having to fight with keeping my balance—again—was bad enough, but I didn’t want to go all frowny-face at anyone for our inspection. If Elle’s dislike for Bucky had been any indication, I could win a lot more favor by being as easygoing and relaxed as possible, so that’s what I was going for. The others were mostly ready by then—untangling and washing my hair had taken a small eternity—with only Gita looking positively miserable where she remained coc
ooned in her towel. I wondered if I should say something to her, but was honestly too tired and worked up at the same time to get my diplomatic side working. Tanner noticed as well, clapping her amicably on the back—after discarding his own towel in a corner. Modesty had not survived the apocalypse. That, or I was surrounded by out-of-the-closet exhibitionists.
“Don’t worry, girl. I’m sure those yahoos over there are going to steal the show, anyway.” He pointedly looked in my direction where I was waiting next to the exit.
I gave him the most innocent expression I could manage, but that held up for exactly the three seconds it took me to drop my own towel and check my scar in the partly foggy full-length mirror next to the door. Most recent scar, I amended to myself, because damnit, parts of my body closely resembled expressionistic art. I did my humanly best to ignore that—my ego really didn’t need that reminder. It was so much easier to focus on the rest. Turning to Nate, I asked, “Did you see my ass? That’s some serious booty developing there.” I got the deadpan stare I deserved for that, which made it easy to crack a smile. Checking again, I made sure that the light peach fuzz on my face hadn’t started to turn into black bristles. “My eyebrows could do with some plucking,” I observed critically, more interested in the scabbed-over cuts on my forehead and cheek—also from this afternoon. “But you still like hairy little women, right?”
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 73