Beyond Green Fields | Book 6 | Red's Diary [ A Post-Apocalyptic Story]

by Lecter, Adrienne

  That was, until the great powwow and its aftermath, when I’d done my best to appear nonchalant as I’d asked Zilinsky about how she’d come to know Marleen, and had gotten an answer along the lines of, “Oh, you mean our pet assassin?”

  Apparently, I hadn’t been the only one completely blindsided by her. Considering my hide was still whole now except for lightly chafed wrists from where she’d tied them to the steering wheel, I felt like I was ahead of the crowd. Bree Lewis—if she was still alive—couldn’t say the same.

  As I kept driving through the pitch-black exit tunnel underneath Dallas, I kept asking myself if I could have prevented any of this from happening if I hadn’t completely ignored Marleen. To be fair, I knew the answer was a resounding no. She’d acknowledged my presence—and been quite amused at Lewis’s complete lack of a reaction when it had come out that she’d fucked Miller as well—but nothing much beyond that. Maybe it should have triggered my sense of self-preservation that someone so apparently spunky could blend so utterly into the background at times, but I’d been too caught up in my own drama between hoping Hamilton wouldn’t usurp what little standing as a leader I still had while at the same time praying that he’d absolve me of that task, and Lewis hadn’t positively contributed to the powder keg my psyche had turned into.

  In a sense, I was almost glad Marleen had abducted me—if that was the right word for it—because it had cut my options down to a very limited few. It removed all but the very top priorities on my list of daily grievances, and gave me something I hadn’t realized I had been hungering for: a way to prove my worth. I was well aware of the fact that I was playing with fire, and I knew it was a real possibility that I’d have to heavily compromise myself to keep her from killing me. Yet wasn’t that the lesson that both Hamilton on the one hand and Lewis and Miller on the other had been teaching me, actively or not? That the goal ultimately demanded the need for sacrifices, and only those bold enough to accept them could win? And, if I was wrong, I’d likely not get much of a chance to regret my actions anyway.

  I knew I should have been upset, knowing that there was a good chance that I was leaving behind the homicidal corpses of several of my friends, but I felt oddly calm. Some of that might have been shock, but it felt more like with a clear goal ahead of me now, it was easier to ignore the rest. Marleen wasn’t keen on conversation, mostly making sure I didn’t make any suspicious moves while following her directions. Not much about that changed once we got to the surface, not far from where we’d ditched the vehicles on the way into the city. I expected her to make a detour to either raid them for provisions or outright sabotage them, but instead she told me to head north. I thought about asking her about removing the cable binders so I could be of some use should we run into trouble—my rifle was stashed behind my seat, out of easy reach but there should it be needed, while my pack remained behind in the makeshift camp in the compound’s rec area—but thought better of it. Judging from the amused expression coming and going from her face, she must have expected me to request my freedom and was in no mood to grant it. Knowing I’d have no way of defending myself should we get into trouble made me tense as hell for the first hour topside, but once we were away from civilization, I gradually relaxed. My fate was no longer my own, and since there was nothing I could do about it, why bother to rebel when that would likely get me killed without warning?

  Yes, I absolutely hated myself for that “I was only doing my duty” mindset but, as far as I could tell, this was the only way for me to survive and possibly help my people accomplish their goals. To be of use, I needed to stay alive. My integrity wasn’t something I could worry about much.

  Eventually, we stopped so she could place a call to her “associates,” as she explained, and let me out of my bonds to relieve myself, if with her standing behind me, gun trained on my head. Then it was back into the car, hands once more tied to the wheel, while she fed me stale beans from a can with a spoon before we drove on again. It had been early morning as we’d exited the tunnel, yet the car’s A/C made traveling moderately bearable. That I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept for more than an hour or two, not so much, but Marleen proved to be a relentless task mistress.

  Why, I learned in the late afternoon when we arrived at what she lovingly called a safe house where several of her acquaintances were waiting. I recognized none of them, but why should I have? Unlike with the slaver camp where quite a number of the scavengers had a history with the military—some more recent than the apocalypse—none of the men looked their average level of competent. I chalked this up to this likely being the C-rate crew left after all others had perished thanks to Lewis’s surprisingly competent war path—but then, by now it was Miller’s personal crusade, so nothing should have surprised me anymore. They all regarded me with suspicion, even after Marleen told them in a throw-away comment that I was just as much a traitor as they were—clearly meant for me rather than them.

  She still didn’t trust me to run around free and unchecked, but at least she let me eat my own dinner—of the expired MRE variant that was still better than most of the meals I’d had on the road in ages—before tying me back up.

  I hardly slept that night, my body too confined to relax, all the many scrapes and bruises I’d sustained during our trek into Dallas and in the installation protesting whenever I even thought about moving a muscle. More so, a hint of despair crept into my thoughts in the early hours of the morning as I watched the sliver of sky I could see from where I lay on the cold, hard floor slowly turn light. One thing was for sure—I would have made a terrible traitor, already feeling like the lowest dog although I knew right now all I could do was try to survive, and down this road lay the only way I could help the others. It wasn’t a very good pep talk.

  Come morning, we were back in the cars and Marleen informed me that we’d likely reach our destination in just under four days, making that a rather ambitious thousand-mile trek. Our group was comprised of ten people in three cars now, and everyone but me obviously knew exactly where they were going and how to get there. As we travelled, a few times we had to take detours because of wandering hordes of the undead, but except for that, it was a surprisingly quiet trip. I tried once to suggest to Marleen she might as well take advantage of me as it was, but all she had for me was a sweet smile that came with a less sweet “I’m not as stupid as I look” vibe. I absolutely didn’t mind but as it was, she would have been safe from any attempts of me trying to strangle her as I first needed to get into where she was taking me, and I doubted they’d be happy to accept me if she ended up dead.

  As we travelled, I realized a few things. While our route was a well-plotted and well-tread one, that was the extent of expertise going on around me if I excluded Marleen herself from the count. Her men—all of them were male—followed her orders well enough and they didn’t actively quarrel among themselves, but they were far from an experienced group that was working well together. All of the scavengers I’d met in my life—including a few groups drugged up to the point where they couldn’t even fall out of their cars anymore as they were shooting at us—could have easily wiped the floor with them. This came as a surprise since the guards at the slaver camp had been formidable enemies that had only fallen so quickly because Miller had known exactly what opposition to prepare for, and the scavengers hadn’t supported them. If not for the storm raging overhead—and the mass exodus of capable people we later learned had happened—we would have had a much harder time. I’d expected Marleen’s people to be at least as competent as that, but they were a long shot from it. When I watched one too many of them jump at something rusting in the bushes during watch duty, I started to question exactly how much time they had spent out and about during the last years.

  Late on day four we arrived at our destination—a bona fide doomsday bunker. There was a separate garage for the vehicles a few hundred feet away from the entrance, but I only saw a single guard post outside of it, manned by two bored men. The entrance, a
s it were, turned out to be a modified garden shed, which wasn’t the worst idea—except for the elevator and subsequent corridor making me terribly paranoid about getting trapped inside. Then again, hiding in plain sight was the best disguise they could have gone with.

  I had a certain feeling that the people who had built this bunker weren’t the ones who had hired the staff.

  That impression kept increasing over the following minutes as our group trudged further into the bunker proper, following a succession of long, narrow hallways poured of unfinished concrete. For once, Marleen hadn’t tied my hands up but she’d made sure that I didn’t carry as much as a pocket knife. We finally arrived at a room that looked somewhat like a forward guard station with more rooms branching off from it, where several of the men left us, only to be replaced by a new contingent of yet more of the same crop. I was starting to feel like with my arrival, I’d virtually doubled the defensive power of this place.

  Something sketchy was definitely going on here.

  From here on, more people were moving around, some still in soldier uniforms but also a lot in toned-down office wear, which struck me as quite peculiar. Except for some of the more stuck-up scientists of Emily’s department, I hadn’t seen anyone wear an ironed shirt or pressed pants in forever. Nobody paid us much heed, which struck me as strange in itself but made me feel just a little better about my near and distant future. Now I just had to convince the powers that be that I was allowed to roam free, and the rest would be a piece of cake.

  Any moment now, the other shoe had to drop; I just knew it.

  After two more corridors, we came into another hub, this one looking more like a computer center—and this was where I encountered the first familiar person. It wasn’t the best of encounters, I had to admit, when I drew up short enough that the guard walking behind me inadvertently crashed into me before I could catch myself. Marleen had meanwhile proceeded into the room, briefly stopping by one of the computer workstations that held no fewer than four huge screens. “Hi, Snips,” she said to the tall, thin figure occupying the single chair at the workstation, only the top of her hair—dyed a shocking lilac at the moment—visible. It was still enough for me to recognize her. “Can you compile a current update for me while I talk to the boss? Thanks.” The way Marleen said it, it wasn’t exactly a request.

  Barely glancing up, Gita quipped a cheerful, “Sure, can do!” back, her attention mostly focused on the screen. “I’m surprised you’re back here already. Didn’t you say you’d be gone for at least another month?”

  Marleen cast me a sidelong glance when I finally caught up with her, her mouth twisted into a less than pleased line. “Change of plans,” she bit out, then turned back to Gita. “Get me the most current version of his personnel file, too. There should be an update from a base in Oregon, dated a few weeks back.”

  Gita kept typing away, only belatedly realizing she had no idea who Marleen was talking about. “Who—” Which was as far as she got before she glanced up, staring straight at me. Her eyes went wide—decidedly more deer-in-the-headlights than with joy—and she visibly blanched, her fingers stilling on the keyboard.

  My first impulse was a rage-driven “Traitor!” screeching through my head, but I quickly cut down on the impulse of uttering the condemnation. For one, it would have ruined the scenario I was trying to build around myself. I was also aware who Gita was friends with. She might have been one of Gabriel Greene’s minions when she had set out from New Angeles, but she’d obviously considered Lewis, Miller, and Burns her best buds. More than anything, her devastation at finding Lewis and Miller gone after we got back from France was what sold the idea that the two of them had been acting independently of anyone else and with minimal planning. She’d remained at the base for a long time afterward, getting increasingly friendly with the IT and science staff. Nobody expected her not to be a spy but apparently, nobody gave a crap about that. Come to think about it, I couldn’t remember when she’d disappeared; I had noticed her absence after returning from a weeks-long mission. I’d figured she’d returned to Greene. Looked like I’d been wrong about that. And yet, I sincerely doubted that she’d defected—which made every second that she was now staring at me as if she expected me to kill her on the spot a really bad idea.

  Putting on a jovial smile, I gave her a brief nod, very much conspirator to co-conspirator. “Looks like I haven’t been the only one to finally see the light,” I surmised.

  Gita blinked but quickly pulled herself together, choosing to ignore me as she started typing again, muttering something under her breath as she either pretended to do what Marleen had ordered, or was actually on it. Marleen herself gave me a warning glare. “That remains to be seen. Last time I checked, all you did was not make me kill you.”

  Since the situation demanded it, I gave her a humorless smile. “Does that mean you’ll finally give me a chance to prove myself?”

  Marleen didn’t respond but looked back to Gita. While she hadn’t appeared to have been watching us, Gita was quick to reply to the unspoken question. “She is in the upstairs radio room right now, I think. Go right ahead.”

  I had no idea who Gita was referring to but it was likely I would soon find out. Besides, I couldn’t very well start snooping just yet.

  Marleen turned around without another word and strode toward the next corridor, me and our entourage following. I tried to keep mapping the corridors in my head but realized that it was a veritable rabbit warren I’d need at least a few days to familiarize myself with. Four turns later, we got to another cluster of rooms. Marleen was just about to step into one to our right but drew up short when a woman in her thirties stepped out. Except for being the only one present, I might have ignored her—until she opened her mouth and uttered a terse, “Finally!”

  I knew that voice. Not personally as in it belonging to someone I’d met before, but I’d listened in on a lot of calls General Morris had received while I’d been idle at the base, with that very voice at the other end of the line. Usually, her tone was quite different, but what were the odds…

  “You’re Decker’s secretary,” I heard myself blurt out before my mind could catch up with my mouth. I would have loved to claim tension and exhaustion—and wouldn’t have been wrong—but it was sadly closer to an impulse of showing just how smart I was. Or not, in this case.

  Marleen and the woman both turned to me with looks on their faces that should have flayed me alive right where I stood. I didn’t buy the—without a doubt fake—hint of embarrassment on Marleen’s expression, but the instant rage in the other woman’s eyes was real. The vibe coming from her told me I’d better tread lightly—which I would have done in the first place if my brain had been working properly.

  “You are not as cute as you think,” she informed me. It sounded close to a threat to beat me to a bloody pulp on the spot.

  Way to make a good first impression… and I had a feeling I’d better rescue this situation if I wanted to live long enough to get a second chance.

  Grimacing, I did my best to appear both rueful and abashed but without turning things sleazy. Considering Marleen had dropped virtually all her social cue-giving, not seeming super charming might win me more than going the gallant route.

  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be spoken out loud, but I recognized your voice. Of course I did. You know I’ve been working for General Morris for years, and that’s what he calls you. Not much of a surprise that he’s wrong since that man is the personification of incompetence. Why he’s still around is anyone’s guess. Please forgive me.”

  She still looked ready to flay me alive, but then a borderline satisfied expression replaced that. “Oh, he’s exactly where I put him, and he’s been invaluable to my strategies for years. One might even say, in his incompetence, he has happened to have an almost impeccable record of doing what he was told. There’s a single glaring mistake that slipped by him, but it stands to reason that he was powerless to keep that SNAFU from happening. A gl
aring mistake that should have been rectified twice over now, and yet, it isn’t.” Her voice, animated and light for most of that speech, suddenly turned icy once more as she directed her glare at Marleen. “You completely fucked up. They got away. All of them.”

  Marleen, seemingly utterly immune to the woman’s antics, drew up short at the criticism. “That’s impossible,” she said, her voice almost void of any inflection. “It was a foolproof plan with the perfect execution. Trust me when I say, I do know how to shank a completely oblivious, unsuspecting victim, and she bled like a pig. There’s no way—”

  The woman cut her off with a hiss. “Then, pray tell, how is it that they not only made it out of that lab—alive—but have since reunited with their people and are, in fact, two days outside of their fucking coastal settlement?”

  I’d never thought I’d see a look of doubt on Marleen’s face, but there it was. Joy filled my heart—not at her portrayal of emotion but at the news that my friends were still up and kicking. That made it harder for me to remain a silent, stoic pillar—and it was Marleen’s utter lack of an explanation that gave me an idea how to instantly ingratiate myself with the powers that be. That this woman—whoever she was—was the one in charge was quite obvious.

  Clearing my throat, I waited for the woman’s attention to turn to me. It wasn’t pleasant, but her instant ire from before was clearly superseded by her annoyance at her pet assassin fucking up. “I may know a possible cause for why Marleen wasn’t successful,” I offered, hoping that I didn’t sound too eager to divulge said information. When I got more of a bland than doubtful look, I decided to go out on a whim and gamble my life on my gut feeling. “And Gita can confirm it, if you don’t think you can trust anything I say at all.”

  The woman hesitated but then jerked her head in the direction of the corridor we had come from. Much to my surprise, Marleen scurried off, presumably to fetch the IT whiz. That left me standing close enough to the woman that I seriously considered jumping her and strangling her on the spot, yet I refrained. The guards present would all be too slow to stop me, I was sure, but while this was a great chance to off her, I couldn’t be sure she really was the head of the snake—or how much this was more of a hydra operation, where cutting off one head would make two more sprout, and I’d lose my one chance on a nobody.