Catharsis

by Adrienne Lecter

  Tanner’s smile had turned a little more jovial by the time he continued. “It wasn’t the worst place to hunker down and wait until the situation cleared up, and the guards had weapons aplenty that they didn’t need anymore. Me and a few others likely had an easier time surviving the first months than a lot of those caught outside. After we’d had to do a thorough cleanup of our cell block, of course.” If anything, his tale got him an admiring nod from Buehler. Tanner glanced at his seat neighbor next. “And our girl Gita here did a great job turning from city girl to survivalist all on her own.” It was then that I realized that I’d never asked her for her surname, wondering now if she even used one.

  That explained, Parr’s attention turned to me, and I could tell that he hadn’t skipped over me to snub me, but because he had a really hard time placing me in context to the others. “May I presume that at least you, Dr. Lewis, still use your academic title?”

  I wondered for a moment whether he was trying to bait me, but his tone was too pleasant for that. My fingers twitched involuntarily, my desire to hide my hands under the table top strong once more, but I forced them to remain where they were, right there in plain sight.

  “Actually, I pretty much stopped seeing myself as a scientist the day I got my marks. When I joined my fellow scavengers, out there, exiled to the roads.” And gee, wasn’t I being romantic tonight. Turning serious, I went on. “And I’m sure Capt. Hamilton has already informed you about my recent history, and how our paths have a tendency to cross in not quite peaceful ways. You’d better forget most of what he might have told you about us as it’s as much heavily biased as very likely completely untrue.”

  Oh, Bucky must have told quite the tales, judging from how Buehler once more struggled to remain neutral, while the other officers—except for Higgs—did some communal glowering. Parr did the best job appearing unaffected.

  “I think his exact words to describe you were that you are an exceptionally intelligent woman prone to making exceptionally stupid choices.”

  Against my better judgment, that assessment made me snort. “Yeah, he’d think so, I’m sure. I’m also sure he neglected to explain his own idiocy and insubordination while heavily layering on ours. Don’t get me started on that man’s shortcomings.”

  Once more, Buehler spoke up, and judging from how the officer next to the captain grimaced, she wasn’t expected to. “He told us that you were all under his command, with absolutely no mention that you were, in fact, not part of the army any longer, or never had been. I only found out about that last week when I had a chat with your communications specialist at the gym. It’s probably a moot question, but how exactly did you come to be here?”

  “He’s not our commanding officer,” I repeated what I’d already told her marines.

  Nate cleared his throat next to me, making me shoot him a sidelong glance. “Technically, he is. You were there when you agreed to follow his orders.”

  I had to think hard, trying to make sense of that. “Oh, you mean at that meeting with Raynor and that buffoon of a general, or whatever he was?”

  Nekanda and Leary looked scandalized at that, while Buehler and the chief were mostly amused.

  “Yes, that meeting,” Nate pressed out.

  “And you think I actually remember anything from there, except that I was fucking glad I only lost three fingers, a bunch of toes, however many non-vital organs, and the fucking bacteria didn’t eat off half of my face?” I had a good recollection still of how Raynor had baited me into agreeing, but that was beside the point.

  Nate’s expression was unreadable, but I got the vague sense that he was rather amused by the reactions my words drew from the other side of the table. The captain still remained impartial, but Buehler was itching to ask, I could tell. And since we were still waiting for the soup—if there would be any, I had no stinking clue—I was only too happy to regale her with the tale.

  “You see, my beef with Hamilton is many-fold, but the part that is likely most pertinent for you is that he has a history of disobeying orders where I am concerned. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think that every single time we met, he had a standing order to bring me in, and he never really tried. Well, once, at that factory, he did, but considering that they had set a trap with a good two hundred zombies locked away that they unleashed on us, I don’t think the plan was for any of us to survive. The powers that be wanted me on their side for the help I could have given, but he let his ego get in the way every single time. You likely heard about us going to war against him, which culminated in us forcing a truce on him?”

  Buehler inclined her head. “His version of the event was slightly different.” The way she stressed that made it obvious exactly how much our stories diverged.

  “I’m sure it was. Fact is, by then the lead scientist of his faction knew that I wasn’t immune to the zombie virus—and even less so the massive bacterial infection the bite of our undead scourge comes with—and she sent him out to invite me to come to her so she could keep me from rotting from the inside out. He must have neglected that small detail, which, in hindsight, looks to be the only real reason he was sent there with orders to agree to our terms, as they could have just as easily fought us until everyone on both sides would have turned into zombie fodder. That scientist is now so pissed off at him that she has managed to convince their military strategists that it would be wiser to let me and my husband do his job instead. If you thought we were along as technical advisors, think again. We’re both here as a test run to see what we can accomplish, and how their soldiers handle having us in charge. That is what is actually happening, and that is also the reason for the altercation that so utterly confused your men earlier today. Hamilton is a limp-dick asshole who is watching everything he has ever been fighting for slip right through his fingers, and only because he was a fucking idiot over and over again. I’m not even sure if he still knows why he is holding the grudge that set all this in motion, but we sure don’t want to be a part of this. So, in the light of all that information, whose version of the story do you believe?”

  “Neither,” Parr answered, making me turn my attention back to him. “But then I have the luxury of not having to take sides. You are all guests on my ship, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m happy to have you off tomorrow morning.” He offered that with a hint of a smile that made me realize that, indeed, he was joking, but only so much.

  I tried my best at an appeasing smile. “I think I speak for my people when I say that we thank you for offering us your hospitality, and that you and your crew have treated us well. We’d love to catch a ride back home, though, from wherever you’re kicking us out.”

  “France,” Leary, next to the captain, provided. “And we are to check back in exactly one week for a few hours, then return for final pickup in a month. If you’re not there after three days, we have to resume our route back to the States.”

  That was the most information anyone had given me so far, and I was surprised to get it from them, now. He seemed to be waiting for something in return from me, but all I could do was shrug.

  “You know more than we do,” Nate explained, finally relaxing. “How much sense that makes I don’t need to explain to you. As my wife has already mentioned, our reasons not to accept Hamilton’s authority are many, and all of them directly relate to the fact that he’s not a good leader.”

  “And still you chose to come along with him,” Nekanda protested. “Why?”

  I wisely kept my trap shut, leaving it up to Nate to answer that. He hesitated, considering, and went with the truth. “The others had a choice. Not so much Bree and me. The options they gave us were to either fall in line, or watch them slaughter our friends. I don’t have to explain that this wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

  None of the others reacted, so Nate must have filled them in before. I couldn’t remember; maybe I’d been the one to spill the beans. The first few days of my recovery were like one hazy acid trip.

  “Doesn’t me
an that we won’t do our best to make this mission a success,” I offered. “Whatever said mission will turn out to be. Hamilton might be an ass, but his lieutenant knows how to handle his men, and he has done his very best to turn us all into one fighting team.” Several of the officers nodded, Buehler the obvious exception, but judging from how she was suddenly studying her blunt, short fingernails, I had a certain feeling that she and Red had gotten along exceptionally well. Good for them.

  Perfectly on cue, our meals arrived, serving as a welcome distraction. Conversation turned to food and other related anecdotes, what still lingered of the previous tension soon forgotten. Chief Higgs was almost as bad as Burns with his vivid recollections of what sailors did once they were off their destroyers, and the others easily kept the ball rolling. There was only one slightly awkward moment when, over dessert, Parr asked Nate how it had come that the army had kicked him out, but Nate’s reply was a surprisingly self-reflective one. “I swore an oath to protect my country. Then I put my ego above that. I had no place among their ranks anymore, and they were justified in doing so.” Parr and Leary gave curt yet almost admirable nods. That made me wonder if, maybe, Red had run interference for us, correcting a few assessments Bucky’s lies might have put in place.

  All in all, it was an almost pleasant evening with a few hitches along the road. The food was a bonus, even if I could only really enjoy the scent of it. Not having to sit where Bucky or his flunkies could gloat at me was nice. We parted as, if not quite friends, more or less respectful comrades fighting on the same side of a battle none of us had chosen. Knowing that they wouldn’t leave us stranded in France out of spite was a relief. Knowing that we might get stuck there for at least half a year if our rendezvous didn’t work out, not so much. But Parr explained that their job was to patrol the northern Atlantic, including most of the European coasts this side of the Strait of Gibraltar. That was also why they had the marines with them—something I was told wasn’t ordinary—as a recon and salvage team. I could tell that Buehler was itching to come with us, but her mission was a different one.

  On our way back to our quarters—sated, and in Gita’s case, slightly inebriated—I felt a little better about our lot for the very first time. Working with the likes of Bucky was hell for me, and I knew I wasn’t alone in that. But people like Parr or Buehler—and in a sense, Red as well—let me see a light at the end of the tunnel. Their dedication to a job that had pretty much become obsolete as the zombies had overrun the cities spoke of dedication and duty that I’d found sorely lacking from a lot of people in the recent months. The likes of Bucky, I didn’t trust to uphold our truce come spring. But someone like Parr wouldn’t even have let things escalate this far.

  It stood to reason that the events of the last year and a half had made many reflect on what duty meant for them. The fact that Parr, Leary, and their crew all still serving on the destroyer, far away from any families—if they had survived—was telling. I still couldn’t relate, not on a personal level, but I could respect that—same as I was, if much more grudgingly, starting to respect it in Red and the other soldiers. Hamilton wasn’t an asswipe because he was in the army, but because he was the human representation of fecal matter. There was hoping I wasn’t completely wrong, but if that was the case, I had the feeling I’d only get a few minutes, at best, to regret it.

  Yet it was that exact thought that made a different kind of unease well up inside of me. Whoever was giving orders to Bucky and his lot must have different goals than Parr and Buehler, who clearly saw it as their mission to uphold what standards of civilization there still were, and help rebuild by using what dwindling resources they still had available. But, like them, the soldiers had initially helped the settlements, and were still adamant about that whenever asked. So what the fuck had gone wrong?

  I had the sinking feeling that I’d very soon get an answer for that, and it likely lay in France.

  Chapter 10

  I was exhausted by the time we returned to our quarters, but not quite tired enough to tuck in yet. So when Nate suggested to do one last check on the few bandages I was still wearing, I followed him to the head without question, not quite sure what to expect. That he didn’t have any nefarious intentions was obvious from his mood—quiet, bordering on glum—that he no longer tried to hide as soon as it was just the two of us. I hopped up onto the bank of sinks once I was down to my underwear to make it easier on him to check my thigh and toes. He pretended to poke around some, but we both knew that it was a moot point. All of my wounds had closed up for good a few days ago, and while there was still some residual bruising, there was no need to reapply any of the bandages.

  I was a second away from asking him what this was about when he looked up from my thigh, both hands now set on the steel frame I was sitting on, as he looked me dead in the face.

  “Thank you for not spilling the beans on exactly why you came so close to eviscerating Hamilton today.”

  Something deep inside of my chest seized up, and it was easier to joke than acknowledge it.

  “It’s such a nice word. Eviscerate. So underused in everyday language.”

  Nate snorted, and I knew he was about to call me his little homicidal maniac again, but for once passed up that chance. Instead, he exhaled slowly, and it was only then that I realized he was shaking slightly with tension. No, emotion, I corrected myself. Holy shit—Nate was about to have a nervous breakdown. Swallowing became incredibly hard for me, frustration hailing from not knowing what to do—or say, or how to react and make it all better—made me reach for him, but he turned his head away, no longer able to look me in the eyes.

  “I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you,” he whispered, his voice a low croak full of emotion and a world of regret. “Not just what that fucked-up mind control shit made me do. Everything. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t chatted you up in that park. If I hadn’t selected you from that three-page long roster of possible choices who could help me down in the hot labs. Shit, I didn’t even really need any help; I could have just gone in there without any protection. We made sure to scrub it all well in advance.”

  “It doesn’t matter—“ I tried, but he cut me off with a jerk of his head.

  “It does. If I’d just let you go like most of the other scientists, none of this would have happened.”

  No, it wouldn’t. In that, he was right. “I likely wouldn’t have made it back home to Sam.”

  “You would have,” he insisted. “It wasn’t that bad on Friday afternoon. Else, we would have realized what was going on and hadn’t gone ahead with the mission.”

  That, I was certain, was a lie. Maybe they would have done it differently, but Nate had been too fixated on getting confirmation—and revenge for his brother’s death—to back down.

  “I would have died,” I offered next.

  Again, he shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have. Bucky and his men would have collected you. Did Burns ever tell you that he and the others who came from Bucky to join me were out there that night, helping along? Maybe if they’d found you, someone would have set them to making sure you’d remain in one piece. Hell, without you missing, maybe they would never have sent anyone to look for you at your workplace.”

  “I doubt I was anywhere near important enough to warrant that.” I chuckled wryly. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I would have been dead by then without you.”

  He continued with that senseless recount of would-have-beens as if I hadn’t spoken up. “Chances are, you would have been working with Raynor from the start. You being there might have made the difference for Taggard going elsewhere to look for the serum.”

  “We still don’t know exactly how that went down,” I objected. And likely never would. Just because we assumed that Alders and what remained of his army of demented eco warriors had tried to further corrupt the inoculated soldiers didn’t mean that Raynor’s people hadn’t known about that. Didn’t make much sense, but they’d been awfully quick about develop
ing that mind-control component of the newest version that they’d shot me up with—if that had even been the truth and not just a lie they’d sold us. I had absolutely no way of verifying any of that. I’d checked. That wasn’t part of the documentation she’d sent with me, and likely for a very good reason.

  So many things I didn’t know. So many things I didn’t give a shit about.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Nate echoed my sentiment. “Hell, maybe we would have ended up in this exact spot anyway. Only that I wouldn’t have dragged you through hell and back several times over. And you’d still have a choice to do something else than become a blunt instrument.”

  That made me snort. “Yeah, and do you know what would happen tomorrow? I’d die. Or if not tomorrow, then the day after.”

  “They would have inoculated you with the serum. You’d have been immune for over a year already.”

  “Doesn’t help me one bit if I’d never learned how to fight,” I stressed. “Besides, you’re not listening to me. That entire point is moot. I wouldn’t have lived long enough for Bucky—or Burns—to find me. You’re the only reason I’m still alive.”

  He still wouldn’t look me in the eyes but raised his head to study my chin. “Explain.”

  Me and my big, fat mouth. Sighing with exasperation, I tried to avoid having to do that. “Don’t make me spell that out, please.”

  “I have no fucking clue what you are talking about, so you don’t have a choice.”

  Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I tried not to feel too stupid. “Really? Don’t you remember how this all started between you and me? You, that fit, muscular, tattooed, ex-military guy, and me, pudgy little lab rat?”

  I’d expected him to laugh in my face. That mix between a frown and a smile wasn’t much better.

  “I still remember that after our little stay in that motel, you were walking funny when you left,” he drawled.

  Rolling my eyes, I playfully punched his arm—none too gently.