Gita eventually extricated herself from me, absentmindedly wiping her face, mostly because the biting wind was worse on wet skin than dry one. “So that was Europe. A little overrated, don’t you think?”
I snorted. “Something like that. Do you know what you’ll do once we get off this ship? You know that there’s likely a line of people forming who’ll want a literal piece of you?”
Unease shone in her eyes but she put on a brave face. “They can still cut up Munez if they want to study someone who got infected but was saved by that freak serum you gave us. I’m out of there as soon as we’re in sight of dry land.” She grinned to show she was joking—to a point. “Actually, Burns and I have been talking. He said he wants to swing by their base once more to pick up Martinez, and then we’ll get back home together. Maybe make it a fun road trip, you know? “
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, the thought making me smile—but it was hard to keep up.
“You… aren’t coming with us, are you?” she said, her voice suddenly low enough that I could barely hear her—as if, out here in the wind, anyone could eavesdrop on us.
I hesitated for a second but shook my head ever so softly. I still tried to keep my response neutral, should my guess about our privacy be wrong. “The last real choice I got to make was back in New Angeles, when we decided to head for the Silo. Maybe even before that when Nate knocked out my tooth while we were sparring and I decided not to just ignore it. Everything that came after that wasn’t really up to me. I’d really like to make my own choices again.”
There was real sadness on her face, but she seemed honest when she nodded. “Yeah, I get that.” The grin that followed was fake, but hey, we were both doing a lot of fake-it-till-you-make-it right now. “How about we go grab some chow from the galley? That sounds like a good choice to me.”
“Let’s,” I agreed, clapping her on the back to push her toward the door. It really was getting unbearably cold out here, and I’d had about enough of that for a lifetime.
Chapter 21
I startled awake when I heard a scratching sound close to me, disoriented for a second until I found Red crouching close to my cot where it sat next to Nate’s. The hangar was dark except for the single small light by the exit, the red glow letting me know that we weren’t through the night cycle yet. Sure enough, when I checked my watch it read 3am. A hint of unease tickled my spine, particularly as Richards was making sure that he was moving slowly and silently enough not to wake anyone else. He needn’t have bothered; Gita was out cold since she’d been playing poker until midnight, and Burns was snoring loudly enough that people at the other end of the ship could likely hear him. Nate was still semi-comatose, falling into a state not unlike the waking coma I’d been in the first week we’d been on the ship on the way to Europe. To make sure he got as much rest as possible, I got up quickly and tiptoed to where Richards had halted once he’d seen me rise. He signaled me to follow him, and since he likely had a very good reason for this clandestine meeting at such an ungodly hour, I followed. Really, if he and some of the others had wanted to shiv me, they’d passed up so many chances that I’d long since forgotten to be afraid any longer.
We were halfway down the corridor to the front of the ship when he finally paused to explain. “I managed to get a call through to Emily Raynor,” he offered. “I thought you’d like a moment to talk to her in private?” Which likely translated into “without Hamilton listening,” not that I gave much of a crap about that anymore. How easily shifting perspectives could change things.
I nodded and we set off once more, heading for the secondary communications station deep down in the belly of the destroyer rather than the bridge. Sgt. Buehler was waiting next to the door and stepped in after us to close it. Besides her, there was only the technician who was making the magic happen.
And speaking of magic, as much as it was convenient to have Raynor on video conference up on a monitor in front of me rather than just hearing her voice, what made my heart beat faster was the man next to her, who was leaning against the frame of a hospital bed, but clearly standing on his own.
“Hey, chico,” I said, hard-pressed to hide a smile. “Good to see you up and running again.”
The fact that Martinez didn’t even give me a grin in return sobered me up—and served as a good reminder of the bullshit they must have fed him about me—but didn’t change anything about the sense of elation inside of me. Maybe I couldn’t save the world, but I sure as hell had done what I could for one of my closest friends.
“Not running yet, and entirely his fault,” Raynor informed me tartly, her accent crisp once more, telling of her exasperation. “He would be if he hadn’t refused the serum. He insists that he prefers months of physical therapy and a good chance that he will only regain eighty percent of strength and range of motion in his legs.”
“Well, that’s his choice then,” I quipped back in a tone not dissimilar from hers. “It’s too bad that you can’t force every single person on this earth to see things your way.”
A hint of amusement crossed Martinez’s face. If that was all I got, it was enough.
Raynor clucked her tongue but let her patient speak for himself as he straightened. “If I have the choice—which I do—I don’t want that shit anywhere near me. No offense,” he added, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I know you don’t agree with me on that.”
I was hard-pressed not to snidely ask what that was supposed to mean, but that was a conversation for a time when we didn’t have anyone listening in, particularly those who I wanted to listen in the least.
“Glad you’re doing okay,” I said instead. “They treating you well?”
Raynor was ready to respond but Martinez, trained from hanging out with me and Burns for well over a year, talked right over her before he could get interrupted. “Surprisingly so. If I was a little more paranoid I’d say they’re trying to either set a good example or want to recruit me.”
“Probably both,” I pointed out. He didn’t seem very keen on hearing my opinion so I kept the rest to myself—which seemed to surprise him to the point where he looked a little guilty. Damnit, but I really wanted to have that talk right now. Sadly, that was impossible, and we both knew it.
Raynor, satisfied that we were done chatting, looked down at the notes she was holding. “Commander Parr earlier informed me that you will be reaching land within the next thirty hours or so, if the storm doesn’t get any worse. So I expect you to be back here within the next three days. By then, Mr. Martinez will be ready for departure.” I didn’t miss that she refrained from using his rank, and considering the look on his face, it didn’t go unnoticed by him as well. Ah, the games people play…
“That’s good news,” I enthused, careful to keep my tone neutral. “Thanks for that update, but if you’re done now, I’d really like to get back to sleep. I know we’re in different time zones at the moment but it’s well past bedtime at your base, too.”
As expected, Raynor didn’t look pleased at my dismissal. “Richards here tells me that you’ve been quite busy. And ignoring normal day and night cycles for the most part.”
Red got an amused glance from me for that. Of course he’d been tattling on me—and not unexpectedly so.
“I think we should have this conversation in private, Dr. Raynor,” I said, stressing her title. “Or as private as we can make it under these circumstances.”
Martinez looked annoyed that I actively cut him out of this, but looked somewhat mollified when I waved at him and promised to see him in a few.
It was somewhat vertigo-inducing as Raynor picked up the laptop she’d been using and carried it to another room—not her office but rather a maintenance closet, with packs of gloves and plastic lab material behind her. While she settled in, I glanced over my shoulder at the other occupants of my location. “If you’ll give us a minute?”
The technician looked ready to protest, but at Buehler’s nod he got up and left with her. Richards remained at
my side, the stoic look he gave me letting me know that there was no way in hell he wasn’t a part of this conversation. Fine, so be it.
“What have you found?” Raynor asked, impatient although she had been the one to cause the delay. “Lt. Richards has told me that you’ve compiled a lot of notes already.”
I couldn’t hold back a nasty smile. “Oh, what I’ve found and what I’ve written down are two very different things,” I let her know, considering Red’s presence for a second but then decided, oh hell. There was a chance he already knew, anyway.
“Notes first, if you will,” I told her. “I found your solution.”
“Solution for what?” She really didn’t like the fact that I held all the cards right now.
“For the cure, if you still want to make it work,” I offered. “Miller and Andrada were damn close to finding a way to reverse the terminal effects of the serum, both without them ever actually going into effect—which is pretty close to the weaker form of the serum that was mentioned in the letters.” I paused, glancing at Richards. “You told her about the letters already, I presume?” He nodded. “Good. Hamilton has samples of that, and you should be able to extricate the compound from Munez’s blood as well. I’d still treat him to the full version if I were you, unless you want to start full-scale production and distribution of said cure, and we all know that this was never your intention.”
Raynor had the grace not to deny that accusation. “You know yourself that the powers that be wouldn’t want to lose their most dangerous weapons,” she stated, matter-of-fact. “And if presented with it, would you want to receive said cure yourself?”
A week ago, I would have said hell yeah. After gnawing my remaining fingernails down to the beds because Nate’s recovery was going at a snail’s pace… “Not really.”
Raynor allowed herself a satisfied smile—one I intended to soon wipe off her face. “It’s good that you haven’t lost your grasp on reality yet,” she surmised.
“Lack of realism has never been one of my weaknesses. Speaking of which, what are you going to do with my notes, besides checking that they make sense? I presume we’re having this conversation now because you don’t want it known what’s in those notes? And in my head, by extension. We all know that there are some people who’d rather see all that gone.”
She didn’t seem very perturbed by that claim. I hated how much this underlined that Hamilton had been right with his assessment of that Decker guy. “Just because there won’t be a direct application to some people doesn’t mean it’s not an important advantage to have,” Raynor pointed out. “And I’m not even talking about threatening a prisoner with taking away his partial immortality.” I hadn’t even thought of that yet. My, I still had so much to learn. “There might come a day when we need that cure,” she went on, oblivious to my thoughts. “Right now, our predictions are that the undead problem will eventually take care of itself or run its course. Should we prove to have been wrong, turning said cure into a vaccine for everyone not yet affected might be exactly what we need.”
“Or just a choice few,” I couldn’t help but notice.
Raynor’s smile was a little sardonic. “You mean, history repeating itself? If we hadn’t been so cautious and only inoculated those we needed for fighting purposes but also most of the intellectual elite, we might not have had to send you across the ocean.” What she didn’t add was that she wouldn’t have needed me at all, which she likely preferred. Too bad, really.
“What about those soldiers who got the faulty version of the serum? Taggard’s boys, and a lot of others who were at that base in Colorado,” I reminded her. “Your side promised to take care of them. Knowing what I know now, I’m sure that whatever bull you tried to sell us about the upgrade with the mind-control shit that you gave my husband, that isn’t connected any way whatsoever.” As I said that, I wondered if that was the reason why Nate’s recovery was hampered, but I doubted it. Until the lab he’d been doing just fine. “The cure might very well be the cure for them, or at least a stepping stone.”
Her utter lack of reaction told me more than I wanted to know. So much for holding to the finer points of our agreements. “They are being dealt with,” was all she said. “And they are none of your concern, which you made obvious in your negotiation that day.” Where she wasn’t wrong. “Anything else? Because, if not, I’d appreciate it if you made sure that Lt. Richards gets all your notes, and—”
“I haven’t told you what I’ve discovered yet,” I said, making her shut up immediately.
Her eyes narrowed but not with the trepidation I’d expected. “Very well. What have you discovered, Dr. Lewis?”
One last time I considered whether I should just lie and keep this to myself—it sure didn’t sound like a smart idea to burn the only bridge I had that was connected to this side. But like so often before, being right was imperative to being smart. Story of my life.
“I found some very interesting things on Dr. Andrada’s laptop. On their own, they wouldn’t have made me make the connection. Or the notes you sent with Hamilton to give to me once he figured I was mentally fit enough to evaluate them. Parts of it was in Raleigh Miller’s documentation as well. So, so many clues, and no way to connect the dots,” I mused. I wasn’t sure if it was my words or my sing-song tone that tipped her off, but there it was, finally—dread for what I’d say next. Again I halted, but this time to wonder if I should call in the others, at the very least Nate and Hamilton, for this conversation.
“Are you intending to make any sense with this, or are you only wasting my time?” she quipped, but her voice was quaking. I glanced at Richards, finding him tense—but not ready to break my neck once I spilled the beans. He wanted to know just as much as Raynor, likely more as it was news to him, and only confirmation to her.
I was only too happy to oblige them.
“You’re the one who caused all this,” I told Raynor. “You, and Raleigh Miller, and Dr. Rosamie Andrada. You are responsible for the zombie apocalypse.”
No dramatic sound effects appeared out of nowhere, and her neutral expression was rather anticlimactic.
“May I remind you that I was the one warning the world?” she stated, actually puffing out her chest a little. “And you and I both know that it was Dr. Alders and those idealist flunkies of his who—”
“Bullshit.” There was only so much of her denial that I could take. “I have no clue how you convinced that idiot to take the fall for you. Mind control maybe? One too many LSD trips gone wrong that made him susceptible to believing he actually achieved something he had nothing to do with in the past decades? And I’m not claiming that you were the one who set the distribution of the virus and activator in motion. But you’re the ones who created it.” I stepped closer to the monitor, mostly to better read her face. “The virus was stable for generations. Alders had built it to be stable, with instant expiration of the subject as a loophole should anything happen. He created the perfect weapon, yes—as in a living, breathing, thinking soldier who was faster, stronger, and most of all more tenacious than his opponents. Turning into an uncontrollable monster was a consequence and drawback, but one everyone felt was acceptable considering the advantages. It was also a measure of control to make sure all your inoculated sheep remained in line. At best, you wouldn’t have to pay pensions for retirees. But it was tantamount that the virus always remained stable. Nobody was fucking stupid enough to tinker with that—until you did.”
Raynor listened to me without trying to interrupt, and even when I dropped that bomb, she didn’t offer up anything. I was only too happy to continue with my tirade.
“I understand that Miller did it because he wanted to save his brother. I don’t know what Andrada’s motives were, but knowing what I know about you, I’d say you figured it was a challenge that you couldn’t say no to. I’d think it wasn’t a hard sell to the powers that be—give them a chance to disarm their perfect weapon. Who doesn’t like a contingency plan? But you made two mistake
s.”
That sardonic smile from before resurfaced as she finally gave in. “You mean, besides allegedly kicking off the end of the world?”
I inclined my head, giving her that. “One, you never took the time to actually talk to the people affected by the serum. That’s why you never really understood exactly how it works, and what it does to them.” And, oh boy, had I gotten a good lesson of that down in that damn complex.
Confusion was her predominant reaction. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“The rage,” I simply said, a glance at Richards showing that he understood. Raynor still didn’t. “That’s how the serum works,” I elaborated. “It makes you so fucking angry that you push through all the natural barriers, those of the mind and those of the body, to accomplish superhuman feats. It’s why you fight harder, and longer. It’s what turns you into a single-minded, homicidal killing machine. And if you can’t stop yourself, you’re gone. You insta-convert from being so fucking angry that your mind shorts out and your body overrides everything that makes you hold back. All that’s left is that rage. You know what separates us—and other primates—from so many other animals? We got those supercharged brains that turn us into the perfect killers although we lack the teeth and claws and whatnot. Because we can use tools, and strategy. But to balance that out, we became social creatures that operate with a very complicated setup of emotions and boundaries. We got smart because we learned not to act on impulse and kill that impertinent asshole beside us on a whim because we’d still need him later. And your damn serum eliminated exactly those boundaries. Those many layers of second-guessing and simple weighing of consequences. You took away the regulations. What was left was a superior killing machine without a conscience.” I paused to let that sink in.
“And our second mistake?” Raynor asked without reacting to the first.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 3 | Books 7-9 Page 102