The Death Fields Box Set [Books 4-6]

by Angel Lawson

  “How many?” he asks, moving by my side.

  “I don’t know.”

  He looks at Zoe and says, “Stay close.”

  I can’t get a handle on the number coming our way and there’s nowhere to hide—just the fire and empty fields around it—thank God they weren’t closer to the woods. I can just see the eastern part of the state going up in flames.

  Wyatt eases his back against mine and Zoe’s shoulders press close, making a triangle. “Don’t panic,” I tell her. “Just go for the kill. We’ll get out of this.”

  She snorts. “Of course you’ll get out of this. You’re like, superheroes.”

  Before I can tell her to shut her mouth, that we’re not comic book characters, I hear the sound I dread more than anything else: a long, painful howl that soon grows into a chorus louder than the blaze.

  “What is that?” Zoe whispers.

  “That, sweetheart, is a horde of Eaters. Welcome to the freaking apocalypse.”

  “We can’t just stand here,” I tell Wyatt. “We need to pick a direction.”

  “What if it’s the wrong one?” he shouts. His back is sticky against mine, the heat from the fire unbearably hot.

  “Do you want to get pushed back into that?” I jerk my thumb at the fire.

  “I don’t want to get eaten,” Zoe says, almost too quiet to hear. “Don’t let me get eaten. Oh my God, we’re going to get eaten.”

  Her voice rises on the last sentence and her eyes dart between me and Wyatt.

  “Zoe—”

  She panics and runs down the street.

  “Dammit.” Wyatt rubs the top of his head. “I guess we’ll go that way.”

  With the decision made for us, we chase Zoe down the road. The girl is fast, I’ll give her that, and it takes nearly a minute to catch up with her. Looking back, I see smoke has coated the road behind us and my eyes burn and water. Lumbering shadows move in the hazy, yellow light. The screaming howls bounce off the trees and night, taunting us.

  “Look, I say we just keep running. We’ll find a place to stop at some point,” I suggest. The hair on my arm stands on end and I inhale. “Or maybe not.”

  Wyatt’s eyes dart around. “What?”

  I spin around, searching the dark road. We’re not alone. Wyatt’s gun glints in the faint light. An Eater dives out of the dark, then another and two more. They move so fast their faces are a blur. Zoe screams and I raise my hatchet but gunfire pierces the night and each monster falls landing inches away, their screams dying on their lips.

  “Wyatt?” I ask.

  “Wasn’t me.” He clutches his unused gun.

  We aim for the darkness. If whoever is out there didn’t let the Eaters kill us, most likely because they want to do it themselves.

  A figure emerges from the dark and the first thing I spot is a long, graying beard. The second is the barrel of a shotgun. The third actually startles me; it’s a small dog. A Jack Russell, and he rushes over to sniff my feet.

  “Rooster! Leave that girl alone,” the man says. “Looks like you got yourself in a pickle. Need a hand?”

  “We can manage,” Wyatt says. “But thanks.”

  “You look capable.” He glances at Zoe and then at the Eaters on the ground. “But I suggest, you get off this road. Those aren’t the only predators around here.”

  I’ve been down this road before and rarely are any of the survivors living in the Death Fields friendly. Most of them are downright deranged, and I’ve got little interest in being locked up in a cage again. Unfortunately, one look over my shoulder tells me he’s right. We need shelter.

  I make sure my weapons are visible and ask, “You have a place nearby?”

  “Sure do. You’re welcome to rest for a spell.”

  Wyatt nods and Zoe shows her naiveté by smiling in relief. I just brace myself for what’s next.

  8

  We follow the man off the road and away from the Eaters and whatever blew up the trailers. We’re inching closer to the Appalachians and occasionally it’s obvious in the landscape; cliffs become sheer walls of rock. We face one of those now, but the old man expertly navigates a trail up to one side. It looks like notches have been carved out of the rock for steps.

  I scale the steps easily, offering a hand to Zoe to help her up the last part. The mutation boils beneath the surface, ignited by heightened adrenaline. I’m growing used to it now and catch myself relying on my senses. It’s wrong and I shouldn’t want the lingering effects, but the Death Fields are dangerous. I’m not sure how long we would last without them; because of the abilities, I can tell the old man’s heart rate is even and I don’t sense the slightest threat.

  “How much further?” she asks, as though I would know.

  “Just around the ridge,” the old man says. The dog runs just a little ahead, always keeping an eye on us and his owner. “I lived in town before all hell broke loose. My daddy showed me this place when I was just a kid. I think he always expected Armageddon or something. Either that or he thought he may need a place to hide from the cops back when he was a bootlegger.”

  Wyatt’s hand grazes my back and we both know we’re crazy to follow this old man deep into the countryside. But we also know something happened to the propaganda team back at the trailer. I’ve little doubt the Hybrids are close by. I’m just hoping not way out here.

  At first I don’t even see the shelter. Weedy vines twist up hard rock and I’m suddenly sure the man is crazy when he steps close to the wall and pushes his hands into the greenery. He grunts and leans back, revealing the edge of a thick wooden door.

  The three of us hesitate and he looks us up and down. “You think I’m gonna kill you?”

  “In the past two years I’ve been held as a prisoner by a crazy person, locked in a cage by a town of deviants and a couple other unpleasant situations. I apologize for being a little nervous about going into a hidden cave with a stranger.”

  “You came out of those situations alive?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Did the people make it? The ones that did you wrong?”

  I shake my head. “No. They’re dead.”

  “Then I guess I’m the one with the poor odds.”

  I never thought of it that way. We’re always wondering who our next enemy will be, but I’ve never considered that we may be the ones people should fear. Death and destruction follow us—me in particular—especially with my personal connection to the virus that started it all. I assess the old guy in front of me, with this weathered hands and wrinkly skin. If he made it this far he must be pretty smart. Smart enough not to screw with us.

  I smile and offer him my hand, “I’m Alex, by the way. Thanks for leading us out of that mess.”

  “I’m Roger.” He grips my hand and looks down at the dog, who is looking back up at us. “That’s Rooster, and we’re just trying to do our part to keep the remains of civilization civil.”

  The cave is larger on the inside than expected—there’s room to stand and different alcoves for rooms. Battery-powered lanterns light the space. I notice a bowl of fresh eggs and salted meat in a small ’kitchen’ area near the door.

  “My daddy made moonshine up here,” he points to a vent that allows him a small stove. “When that virus came around I just started moving up here, a little bit at a time. I’ve got a chicken coop out back and a couple of goats. Those monsters can’t climb up the rock, so the animals are safe.”

  “So you’ve been alone this whole time?” I ask.

  “Yeah, my wife died ten years ago and my kids are across the country. No idea if they made it or not.” He reaches down and pats the dog on his little head. “I found this guy on the last day I moved up here for good.”

  “Why’d you name him Rooster?” Zoe asks.

  “Cause he wakes me up at the crack of dawn like clockwork.”

  I’m starting to think Roger invited us in because he’s lonely. After my time in solitary with Chloe, I understand better than I’d like to.
>
  He offers us a seat and we sit around a square table. The furnishings are nice and it’s really a pretty good set-up, other than the damp chill that lingers in the air. I rest my weapon on the table and dig in my bag for some food. I pass both Wyatt and Zoe a bag of trail mix.

  Wyatt, never content to just sit, pulls out a rag and begins cleaning my hatchet. “Any idea what caused that explosion?”

  “Down at those rat-infested trailers? I’d say it was God intervening, but I know better. It’s whoever you guys are hunting.”

  Wyatt frowns. “Why do you think we’re hunting someone?”

  The man shrugs and strokes his beard. I offer him some of my mix but he waves me off. “You’re traveling light. Just weapons and a pack. Picking up supplies as you go. I’ve watched a lot of things come and go around these parts over the last year. Armies and monsters and sometimes a mix of the two. I saw the signs that group was posting before they got tracked down and slaughtered.”

  “The propaganda team was killed?” Zoe asks, her mouth agape in horror.

  “Did you set off that explosion?” I ask, the pieces finally clicking together.

  He looks at Zoe. “The soldiers or whatever they were came in quick. Those people had no chance, emptying their guns into thin air. I’ve never seen men so fast and efficient. I wanted to give those…things…no reason to return here, and when I saw you guys poking around I knew they’d be back.” He seems so rational but the truth is he almost killed us. I tell him as much and he replies, “Sorry about that. I came back to check and make sure you were in the clear. Unfortunately the monsters were attracted to the fire.”

  “Yeah, they seem to like bright light.”

  “So are you guys bounty hunters?” He looks between us. “Like on the posters?”

  Having learned to hold our cards, Wyatt and I don’t reply right away. Zoe, on the other hand, blurts out, “Hell yeah. We’re here to take those Hybrids down. Clear out the countryside until they’re all gone.”

  “Hybrids?”

  I sigh and lean across the table. “How about I fix us some dinner and Wyatt can get you up to speed. You willing to share those eggs?”

  “For a little company and news?” he asks with a grin. “I think it’s worth the price.”

  9

  Wyatt gives Roger the rundown of the past two years, skipping the meatier parts about Jane and my relationship to her. He leaves out the betrayals and Cole and the choices we’ve all had to make—the emotional pain and sacrifices. He doesn’t talk about the two of us, the way we’ve fallen in love or the kids he tucked away on the coast of Georgia, praying they’d be safe with a family that was willing to take them in like their own. He does describe the armies, the genetic alterations, and how after finally eliminating Chloe, Hamilton’s rash actions pushed the Hybrids into the Death Fields. Wyatt avoids looking at Zoe but I know he’s aware of how intently she’s listening, absorbing everything, until she grows too tired to stay awake and falls asleep on a cushion on the floor. Rooster sleeps next to the door, his small brown eyebrows moving restlessly.

  Our eggs and cheese are long gone and the plates cold by the time Wyatt finishes answering Roger’s questions. The old man listens quietly while stroking his beard. “I knew it was bad, I just didn’t know it was that bad. Genetic stuff? That actually explains a lot about what I’ve seen lately.”

  “It’s pretty crazy out there,” I admit.

  “And now you’re on clean-up duty.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Do you know anything about the other Safe Cities?” Wyatt asks him. “We spent most of our time in the dead zone between them. Until we got to New Hope, we had no idea they existed.”

  “Me either,” Roger says but hesitates. “Well, a couple of travelers through here were going south, over the mountains, said they heard about a place down there.”

  “Into Virginia?” I ask.

  “Carolina. Somewhere in tobacco country.” I feel Wyatt’s eyes before I look up. His fist coils into a tight ball. Roger notices. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” I reply in an unsteady voice. “I grew up in Raleigh. It’s where Wyatt and I met.”

  “Oh, well maybe that means you can head back home again.”

  I feel Wyatt’s other hand on my knee and he squeezes it. Neither of us want to go back home, but we do want to find a way out of this. Another city may be the answer.

  There’s a hint of sadness in Roger’s eyes when we say goodbye. Wyatt tells him to stay off the roads for now. The Hybrids, as he now knows, are merciless.

  “You want us to send word if we find something?” I ask. ’Something’ means an actual safe city—not the manufactured one we just left.

  “Nah.” He rubs Rooster’s backside with his foot. “We’ve got everything we need up here. My daddy knew I’d need it one day. He was a smart man, even though he had a need for drink.”

  I leave the mountain hideout a little lighter than before, our bellies full of fresh food. If everything goes on schedule we should meet up with Walker and Jude later in the day. I had a feeling Wyatt needed to settle a few things with Walker.

  We’d found our meeting spot, a small suburban neighborhood in the town of Bluefield, Kentucky, on the edge of the Appalachians. After talking to Roger, the trajectory makes me a little uncomfortable. I grew up on the opposite side of those mountains and figured I’d never get back home. It’s still a long way off, but knowing my mom and I may have been that close to a Safe City brings out feelings I’m not ready to deal with.

  We’re the last to get to the house, coming in long after dark. Zoe begged to stop but Wyatt wanted a bed and apparently, a confrontation.

  I’ve barely dropped my bag in the two-story, split-level ranch when he tells Zoe and Mary Ellen to go upstairs.

  “Turn on the TV or something,” he says, without the slightest trace of humor.

  Mary Ellen opens to mouth to argue but I give her a small headshake. It’s not worth it and Wyatt is on the warpath. There’s no need to be in the blast zone.

  Walker hasn’t moved from her spot at the large dining room table, visible from the front door. She’s eating pudding from a plastic cup. The kitchen cabinets behind her are open and there’s a surprising amount of supplies inside. Wyatt sits at the table across from her and pulls off the foil lid, licking the foil off the top. Jackson, Jude, and I watch warily as the two square off.

  “You seem agitated,” Walker finally says, discarding her cup.

  “Do you care to explain what Hamilton’s daughter is doing with us? And why no one told me?”

  “Hamilton’s what?” Jude asks, looking at me. I mouth back “Zoe” and he nods, processing it slowly. Jackson doesn’t seem remotely surprised so I assume he already knew.

  “Honestly? I don’t.” Walker stands and pushes her chair back under the table. She grabs her gun off the couch and shoves it in her belt. We watch as she walks away from Wyatt and storms out the door. The rest of us wait—the room completely quiet—as Wyatt gathers his anger and follows her outside. The door closes with a slam, rattling the windows. It only takes a few seconds for the screaming to start.

  Walker and Wyatt had worked together from the beginning. I didn’t know they were both Fighters tasked with making sure I safely arrived with the original vaccine data at PharmaCorp. They’d always had a professional relationship but something has set them on edge. I move past Jackson and Jude to listen.

  “We don’t keep secrets,” Wyatt says. “You know that’s how someone gets killed and I’m pretty sure none of us want Zoe’s death on our shoulders.”

  Walker laughs. “Are you accusing me of keeping secrets? I’m sorry, I thought that was your job, Mr. Enigma.”

  There’s a string of expletives that makes me glance sideways at Jude, who has moved closer to listen. This argument isn’t new; Walker has never thought Wyatt has been transparent enough. Wyatt, frankly, doesn’t give a damn.

  “I know you’re hiding somethi
ng big this time,” she says. Her voice is lower—more serious. I watch Jude to see if he caught it. He did.

  “Me? You’re paranoid,” Wyatt says.

  “No. I’ve seen a better way,” she snaps back. “There’s hope out there Wyatt, and it’s within our reach. We just have to finish the job.”

  “You think tracking down hundreds of Hybrids is going to be easy? It may take decades.”

  “I’m willing to make that sacrifice.” I peek out the window and see Walker’s eyes narrowed at him. She says, “You never mention the Mutts.”

  “They aren’t my first priority. You know that.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.” Her voice is cold—accusatory. “I think they are your first priority. More than you, or anyone else in that house wants to admit.”

  Wyatt has been pacing, letting off pent-up anger, but he stops inches from Walker. “You’re brainwashed. Hamilton did something to you. We were a team and you know Erwin and the others had no choice but to turn Mutt. None. That sacrifice—a real one—saved all of our asses from the Hybrids. The Mutts are not our enemies and I’m not going to pretend they are just because some paper pusher up in New Hope,” he rolls his eyes at the cheesy name, “has convinced you to do his dirty work.”

  Jude and I hold a look because we’re very close to territory we can’t come back from. Wyatt isn’t wrong—he’s completely right--but these are dangerous accusations. We don’t have an army backing us here or anything else. Walker does. “Watch your mouth,” Walker says. “You’re close to treason.”

  He blinks twice and then laughs. “You don’t get it. It can’t be treason. I’m not part of your country. What country? You’ve got one functioning city and rumors of others, but I didn’t go through the last two years to be beholden to a man I don’t know or trust.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means I’m done with this shit. I’m not working for you or Hamilton or anyone else.”