I was still confused as I steered the boat around the long, slow bend, making sure to stay in the middle of the forking waterway that he’d indicated—until the next bridge loomed up ahead. Doing a quick calculation in my head, I figured it was likely the extension of the same road that the previous bridge had served—only this one was no longer intact. And if I wasn’t completely wrong, it hadn’t collapsed on its own.
“You detonated the bridges?” Nate guessed as he surveyed the wreckage—including what looked like hundreds of cars, busses, bikes, and small river craft—that surrounded what remained of the concrete that had once spanned the Seine.
“We had to,” Noah declared, his voice somber. “Elle told you that we had weeks of warnings, over a month to prepare to evacuate? Many didn’t listen. Many didn’t believe. And when the sickness swept through the doubters and killed them one by one, we knew we had to try to contain them. It was futile, of course, as Paris spans both sides of the Seine, but evacuation was still going on. The only thing we could do was make sure that the dead couldn’t follow us across the river. The official order was to head north. The Resistance decided to make a stand toward the south. I think you know who had the better idea.”
Considering they still called themselves the Resistance, I did. Why did the sudden feeling creep up on me that Elle and Alexandre had fed us a rather edited version of the events?
But then that was one sin I was equally guilty of myself.
“How deep do the wrecks go?” I asked, forcing myself to concentrate on the immediate danger over the horror of the past.
“The boats are light enough that they should get over everything you don’t see,” Noah explained. “But it would be wise to stop driving the boat like a racing car.” Also more fuel efficient, I was sure, but I didn’t offer that up, and instead slowed down to a more sedate, cautious pace.
So we watched in silence as we glided past the burnt-out wrecks that spoke of the dying pains of one of Europe’s largest cities, the layers of fog only adding to the ghostly horrors of it. And we were far from alone. If before we’d drawn the attention of hundreds of shamblers, it was thousands of eyes following our progress now—and that was only those we could see in the less than clear morning air. The sounds of movement, interspersed with harsh shouts and guttural grunts, echoed from all sides, only partly lost in the fog. It seemed like they were one immensely huge pack of hungry, patiently waiting predators. If we hadn’t been so far removed in the middle of the river, we would have long since died. I wondered how many others besides us had ever become witness to this; the scouts, obviously, and by their stoic ignorance I could tell that the knowledge of what had happened—of what they’d had to do to survive—cut deep.
Only they’d been smart enough to stay outside the city for the most part, and none of them seemed to have tried to leave the boats. Trust us not to be that intelligent.
And then, several bridges—and another harrowing climbing and dragging tour across the next lock—later, a few miles farther, at one of the straight passages of the river, Ines pointed at one more partly destroyed bridge looming ahead. “That’s Pont de Neuilly. La Défense is right there on the right riverbank. We’re here.”
Chapter 11
Getting to our destination was one thing; getting off the boats, quite another. The only positive thing about our situation was that, even up here, the Seine hadn’t started to freeze over—not really a lot we had going for us.
I barely caught a glimpse of the skyscrapers where Ines indicated, having to pay more attention to said bridge and another river island splitting the stream in two. As the French had told us, the island had been a place for leisure activities, and unlike most of the previous islands, it was inhabited—not heavily, but I could make out a good fifty shamblers eagerly following the roar of our engines as we sped by, partly hidden between the trees. Trees were good, as was the fact that the island was large enough to completely obscure the other fork of the river—and the center of Paris that loomed behind. Most of the attention we got was from the side where we were going to embark on. “Should we maybe switch to the other side and hope we can better sneak in that way?” I suggested what seemed quite obvious to me.
As expected, Hamilton shot me down. “If we don’t have to cross the bridge, we won’t. The roads leading up where we need to go start at the quay. So that’s where we start as well.”
I wondered why I still tried but couldn’t find it in me to shut up. “And the boats we’ll leave at the island so they can pick us up later? Won’t they get eaten in the meantime?”
Ines seemed to be the only one still amused by my protest. “There are more wrecks in the other fork because a lot of boats were moored there,” she explained. “We can easily go there, wait, and then swoop in and pick you up. Don’t worry about us.”
The end of the island was up ahead with the piled-up mess that was yet another dysfunctional lock creating a natural barrier. I cut the engine as we reached the massive cement structures that cut the river into several smaller parts, waiting for the other boats to join us. Ropes were cast to tie the boats off so the current wouldn’t drag them downriver too soon—and then we settled in to wait until we became all but invisible.
“No talking, and no sounds unless you cannot avoid them,” Hamilton reminded us. “You all know your fire teams and the order in which we will disembark. You know your destination, and you know the contingency plans.” I craned my neck to look past the structures of the lock to the road that ran right by the river. It wasn’t exactly packed with shamblers, but there was no way I’d survive up there more than five minutes. Was dying a quick, horrible death really a contingency plan? Whatever else we found in that lab, getting out of the city would be the worst part if anything went wrong. Hell, jumping into the river and hoping not to drown or freeze to death was the best chance we had. I really fucking hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.
Nate nudged my elbow, making me look at him rather than at the resident population. He gave me a pointed stare followed by the hint of a smile. Right. Getting locked inside my head now wouldn’t do me any good, so why bother? It was much better to enjoy the late morning air, full of fog and the stink of millions of decomposing bodies all over. Ah, Paris!
And so we waited. And waited. And waited some more. I went through a bottle of water—cold enough to hurt my teeth—and a bag of jerky. I knew I’d need the energy, and it gave me something to do. Two hours passed. Then a third. The shamblers were still staring at us and the boats, slowly bobbing up and down in the river. Every few minutes, one of them had the great idea to tumble down the steps that led from the street to the river walkway, and a handful of those down there in turn splashed into the water as they tried to reach us. They were swept beyond the next bridge before they stopped resurfacing, a few hundred feet downstream of our position. To say I was bored right out of my mind was an understatement, but unlike Noah and Munez, I didn’t manage to catch some shut-eye. Knowing that the worst was still before us really didn’t help. But I seemed to be the only one antsy with tension, making me wonder if the others were somehow more used to this. Were military missions usually like this? Brief bouts of terror interspersed with immense stretches of utter boredom? Nothing we had gotten up to had ever went down like this. We’d all been about action, action, and then lots of reaction, including some timely running away or chasing down the stragglers. I couldn’t say that I was very impressed.
My mind started drifting off but I forced myself to remain focused and instead repeated the version numbers of the serum variants to myself that we were looking for. After that, the room numbers I should be looking for. The highlighted routes on the blueprints that Nate had, late one night, drilled into my brain, visualizing the exit routes from all points of interest with me until I felt like I’d walked them a million times—or got so annoyed with him that I’d claimed I’d gotten it. Now, I wished I’d done the exercise a few more times on the way over.
It wasn’t so much
sound as motion to my left that jerked my attention outward, just in time to see Bucky motion to the French scouts to get ready for cast off. To me, the shamblers at the riverbank still seemed way too interested in us, but I doubted they’d actually quiet down—and I really had to relieve myself. If anything, that would be easier once we had dry, solid land underneath our boots.
Antoine jerked the rope free first, and as soon as the boat started to get swept away by the current, attention ran like a wave through the zombies—but only a single one of them went into the river; the others just stared. Nate was just as tense as I felt as he watched the boat make it through the first bridge—ours was the next after that—still without causing too much of a fuss. The second boat went next, Raphael looking tense behind the wheel that likely let him do only minimal steering without the engine on. Hungry eyes followed their progress but still no agitation. Hope flared up inside of me, although I tried to quench it immediately. This wasn’t even the real first step; we were still twiddling our thumbs with the prep work.
Then it was time for us to float down the river. I tensed as first one, then a second shambler tumbled into the water, but they were far enough away not to get anywhere near the boat as they were carried downriver the same as us, eventually disappearing underneath the black waves. There was some grunting and moaning coming from the road by the quay but no sounds of direct pursuit. Maybe this was less of a stupid fucking plan than I was still afraid it was.
We followed close enough behind the second boat to see when Raphael started inching it toward the riverbank, away from the island. Ahead, the first boat reached the destination, jerking to a halt as grappling hooks on ropes caught and anchored it for now. Hamilton and two more figures climbed onto the quay, still too far away to clearly identify them. The rest remained in the boat, waiting. Boat two joined them, the boats quickly fixed to each other with more rope. We did the same when it was our turn, my fingers itching from being useless as fuck—and ice cold from hours of inactivity. Above us, it was eerily quiet, the sounds of the river muting anything else that was going on.
It was a good twenty minutes after the first boat had anchored itself when Cole suddenly appeared on the railing above us, giving us a silent go-ahead. There was blood and gore on his gear but none of that seemed to belong to him. I didn’t protest when Nate unceremoniously helped me don my pack, and as the boats got more empty, pulled me along until we were next to climb up the ropes to get up on land. Rather than force me to scramble up, my fingers likely too weak to do a good job pulling my weight and my gear, Nate and Burns boosted me up so all I had to do was grab onto the railing and swing my leg up and over it. Hill was waiting for me, helping along so that I dropped to the sidewalk with barely any sound, quickly casting around for danger.
There were a good thirty heaps of rags on the ground, more leading toward the road branching off perpendicular to the one following the river. Everyone was alert going on twitchy, loud and heavy weapons stowed away in favor of knives and good ol’ hands. Car wrecks had piled up all across the two lanes of the road plus the sidewalks and everywhere else available, giving us plenty of cover. I didn’t need Cole’s signal to duck behind a blue minivan, making sure to move with deliberate motions not to cause any unnecessary noise. With strength in numbers not in our favor, stealth it was instead.
Nate lightly tapped my shoulder as he crouched down next to me, and we waited until Burns joined us before I slid to the other side of the car and studied the road. A handful of shamblers were already invading the zone that our vanguard had cleared but they took minimal interest in the corpses, instead dragging themselves on almost aimlessly. Almost, as their heads jerked around in unison when a metallic clang sounded from further up the road. I used the opportunity of distraction and eased over into the other lane and onto the sidewalk, behind an overturned truck. Only for a moment, I looked back to see whether Nate was following and got a death glare from him for my effort. I gave him the finger for that but kept my attention forward, picking the best route to keep us as covered as possible, dutifully waiting for his light pat on my shoulder before moving on each and every time. I caught sight of Munez moving ahead of me a few times but except for him, the ramp we went up could have been deserted. Judging from the sign and width, it had been a pedestrian path but three cars were still jammed together at the top, giving me a good place to rest for a second to stare up at the massive skyscraper to my left. It had been the one that Ines had pointed out to me on our trek upriver. It must have been at least fifty stories tall, most of the windows looking marvelously untouched. The ramp led up to roughly the height of the third story, a pathway to the right leading to some kind of park deck—that was crawling with shamblers. They were nesting, as in, had dragged all kinds of debris inside and built huge piles of it that looked like primitive shelters. A few of them stared out into the foggy daylight but none of them made a move to come out. I gave myself a visible shake and moved on.
The ramp took a sharp left turn at the top, ending in a flat, open space that was the centerpiece of the entire satellite city of La Défense. I’d seen the maps, and Elle had described it to us in detail when prompted at dinner, but the view opening up in front of me took my breath away for a second—and not just because, like most causeways, it was dangerously open and devoid of good cover.
For the length of almost a mile, and well over a hundred feet wide, the plaza ran from where I was crouching behind the remnants of what had likely been some coffee shop furniture, up over several stages of gentle steps, to a giant geometric arch-like structure, roughly the dimensions of a cube. Left and right, skyscrapers stretched seemingly endlessly up into the clouds and fog, most too tall to see their tops in the abysmal weather. And as I looked the other way, I could see the center of Paris at the extension of the plaza, the road that ran across the bridge, and on into a straight line to the fabled Arc de Triomphe. Back in the day, it must have been quite the inviting spot. Now, it was a great place to get a really good look at all the undead clogging the broad road that disappeared underneath the structure we were standing on now, the dark spaces below likely their usual daylight hideout. A few of them must have been out and about before we’d come close, but I was sure that we’d woken up quite a few more.
Up on the plaza, there were fewer shamblers, but still plenty enough that I didn’t dare venture out into the open where a large pool, frozen over, with weird sculptures placed in it took over most of the space. I waited for Nate to give me the signal before I started inching forward, using two of the sculptures for cover. Next to us, the gaping maw of a Metro entrance yawned, giant holes ripped into the flimsy grates that had closed it off telling of something rampaging there to get out. That didn’t look very comforting.
No cars had made it up onto the plaza, but there was debris aplenty from the shops and restaurants that must have already had outdoor seating ready when the shit hit the fan, and a year and a half of seasons to let the carefully arranged vegetation run wild. Even with obvious signs of destruction, it all had a rather peaceful, quiet air to it.
I absolutely didn’t trust that, and that false sense of security was setting my teeth on edge.
I took my time picking my way through lots of dry leaves that had gathered in the corners and lower edges, going for minimum exposure wherever possible. All that glass, steel, and concrete made this seem like a business district but I had no idea how many high-rise penthouses had been here, and whether the hotels had been deserted. The memory of the stealthy, conniving undead at the golf club was still too fresh on my mind not to distrust the momentary quiet, although the lingering scents of decay—mostly of plant matter—were comforting to a point, familiar.
We reached the first flight of steps where Red was waiting with Tanner, Gita, and five more soldiers. Two more teams were behind us, a total of five people. Red silently signaled me to proceed further up the plaza. The next part was in more disarray, several of the trees that had grown there lying this way and that. I c
onsidered going around them to hug the side of the buildings, but I didn’t like how deep the shadows were around there. More than one glass front had been destroyed, and I was sure that something must be lurking in there. Better not risk it. As I slowly advanced down the steps, I saw movement up ahead, but it was just one more of our teams going the same route I’d decided for, also avoiding the buildings for now. I looked back briefly, trying to see if any of the shamblers from the garage had come out, but what I could see of the ramp was still deserted.
I really didn’t trust this.
The section with the trees in the middle was bisected by a small garden and some restaurants, followed by another open space, then more trees. The second half had more room on the sides, and to the right loomed the corner of our destination, a double-towered building as fantastic and tall as all the others yet with curves rather than straight plains as the central architectural motif. It looked like the last place where I would have expected an underground lab to be housed, but that must have been the reasoning for the location. Ahead, I could see another shallow, huge basin, and then the plaza opened wide, leading up to that oversized cube arch. I was quite happy that we didn’t have to go that far, the expanse of all that exposed space making my skin crawl.
As we got closer to the tower we were aiming for, I saw Bucky had already arrived, waiting next to the entrance. None of the ground floor glass panes had remained intact so getting inside wasn’t exactly hard. That he was hesitating to get out of the open made me guess that he was waiting for backup to do some preliminary cleanup. That seemed to be the case as he disappeared from sight as the fire team in front of us arrived. I strained my ears but couldn’t hear a sound besides the wind howling through the maze of buildings.
Nate held me back before we made the mad dash across the open space in front of the basin, taking point himself and signaling Burns to come right after him. I didn’t hang back but they made it a full ten seconds ahead of me, leaving me frowning as I followed inside. The cloud of stench that met me told me everything I needed to know. Before I could look for the others, Cole signaled me over to where he was crouching next to the huge elevator banks in a defensive position. I joined him, reasoning that I still had the actually useful work ahead of me that only I could do—I could take five now where I wasn’t strictly needed.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 87