Retribution: Green Fields #11

by Adrienne Lecter

  Chapter 10

  It wasn’t so much me finding them as them almost tripping over me. With the howling continuing behind me, I could only pay so much attention to shuffling sounds happening around me, but when I did hear the scrape of something on concrete, I hunkered down behind a car—and something backed into me from the other side. I stepped back and raised my tomahawks, ready to slice into whatever was inevitably coming for me any moment now, only to find one of Blake’s marines—wide-eyed and tense—about to do the same. I only lowered my arms after I was sure he’d recognized me—at least for one of our group, if not me personally—and he gave me an uneasy smile that looked more like a grimace. I looked around to see if there was someone else with him, but didn’t catch anyone. He shook his head when I glanced back to him. He didn’t protest when I signaled him that I’d take point and was quick to follow—or as quick as was possible, which wasn’t much. Our overall pace had slowed down to little more than a crawl as an endless sequence of dash-and-duck will do to you. My heart was still hammering in my throat after escaping the intersection, but at least staying alert wasn’t an issue for the moment.

  It took me a while, but eventually I spotted two more people moving in similar fashion to us. A few hurled pebbles and some praying not to attract the wrong kind of attention, and we had caught up to each other. One was one of the scavengers, the other Danvers, Scott’s second-in-command. I was happy to relinquish my position to Danvers and let him scout instead, not that it changed much. It took us a good hour to be out of earshot of whatever was still going on at the intersection, and by then most of my adrenaline was burned up. My arms got increasingly heavy and soon I had to be just as careful not to fall over my own feet as not to stumble into a suddenly appearing shambler—and there were quite a few of those lurking between the wrecks now, drawn out by the night and possibly the screams of their undead brethren. Whenever we could avoid one, we did, but more often than not we had to put it down. Even skilled at doing so quickly and nearly silently, that still caused yet more ruckus that drew others out of hiding. While we didn’t catch up to anyone else from our group, the irregularly occurring thumps in front and behind us made me guess the others were working in a similar fashion. One thing was for sure: my timetable estimates had been wildly optimistic, at least for the nighttime hours. I couldn’t be sure of the exact distance we’d managed since the intersection, but miles-per-hour wasn’t in the measurements anymore. Nobody complained—or said anything, for that matter—but I could tell that I wasn’t the only one overdue for a longer rest.

  I would have missed Scott standing by one of the exit ramps but he flagged us down when we got close enough, the uneven motion pattern of our group enough to be spotted. He and Danvers did some whispering into each other’s ear and some pointing was involved, making me guess someone had established some kind of gathering point nearby.

  Leaving the relative safety of the highway made my skin crawl—even though it was populated, the broad band of lanes between concrete walls was good terrain to hide and move forward. The city surrounding it was one giant unknown. As we followed the ramp up, the terrain around us revealed itself, and I could see why they’d chosen to exit here. The broad roads were choked up with wrecks but didn’t disappear into the urban jungle I’d expected. A swath of undeveloped land surrounded a creek that cut through it, and that was exactly where Danvers was headed. As soon as we descended into the shallow valley, I saw two more lookouts—Hill and Cole, to my momentary relief—silently pointing us farther down. Maybe half a mile along the creek sat a small, squat building, our destination if I wasn’t completely wrong.

  It turned out to be some kind of maintenance building, likely from a park authority or something similar. It had a lower level that was half underground, with only two small windows high in the low wall that let in a little moonlight. That basement was now full of dirty, sweaty bodies in different stages of cleanup efforts.

  I felt more than a little elated to find Nate and the rest of my people down there, and not even Hamilton’s presence could put a damper on that. Everyone looked okay at a first glance, although Nate had a nasty gash down one cheek that Sonia insisted needed at the very least cleaning up, which he grudgingly agreed to after he saw me step into the basement. From what I could tell, only two more people were unaccounted for—and would remain so, I figured, when Scott, Richards, Cole, and Hill were the last to file in after us, effectively barricading first the upstairs entry, and then the door to the basement on their way down.

  Not giving a shit about anything except that we were safe, I let myself sag down onto the floor without even bothering to pull off my pack, glad to just sit there for the moment. Our hideout was ideal, not just coming with a basement but two entire shelves stacked with plastic water bottles—the big ones for those upside-down dispensers. A lot of them had burst or were caved in from years of heat and cold working their shit on the liquid inside, but all that mattered was that it was clean water. Nobody had escaped the intersection without getting a few more layers of grime caked on, and to get rid of that the water was still good enough.

  It took me watching a few minutes of the somewhat frantic scrubbing the marines got into to realize it wasn’t just personal preference. I also noticed that Sonia, armed with some clean rags, water, and bleach, wouldn’t go near anyone until they had cleaned up. My confusion clearing up must have played out on my face as I caught Eden smirking at me across the room from where she was equally as relaxed as me where getting doused was concerned.

  Giving myself a mental shake, I pushed my pack off and set to wiping zombie gunk off myself and my gear, which went much faster when Nate came to lend a hand. He remained at my side when I found a new space to park my tired ass against a wall, opposite the rest of our people. Burns gave me a lazy smile and a thumbs-up before he closed his eyes, looking tired enough to fall asleep right that second. Sonia and Marleen were still busy looking after scrapes and cuts, one of Blake’s men getting increasingly agitated about a gash on his arm where something had torn his jacket. It looked more like he’d gotten caught on a sharp scrap of metal than a shambler bite, as Sonia confirmed soon after, but he wouldn’t listen, continuing to mutter in low tones.

  “Press your finger down on the bandage,” I whisper-advised him. “What does it feel like?”

  At first, I wasn’t sure whether he’d understood as he kept staring nervously at me. Sonia, clearly at the end of her patience and energy alike, grabbed his arm and pressed her thumb into the center of the bandage she’d just applied, making him wince in discomfort.

  “Hurts,” he grunted.

  I offered him a tight-lipped smile. “Then you’re good. If it was infected, you wouldn’t feel anything.” Obviously agreeing with me, Sonia was already moving on, but the guy was now staring at me weirdly. I couldn’t hold in a snort. “Trust me—I’m kind of the authority on getting mauled by the undead assholes and limping away from that to tell the tale. Never regained the sensation around the scars, either.”

  He looked slightly more at ease now but still awfully spooked. Nate allowed himself a chuckle next to me. “As I remember it, you weren’t limping; you were driving like fury incarnate.”

  I slowly turned my head and gave him a deadpan stare. “Well, someone had to save your useless ass. I knew I was already dead. Might as well rescue those that weren’t.” Which reminded me of something I’d always wondered, and now might be the last opportunity to ask about it. Leaning forward and craning my neck, I found Hamilton slumped against a wall in the corner, right next to the basement stairs. He’d been watching the exchange in silence, and I felt a certain trepidation to get him talking, now that he was shutting up for once. “Hey, ass wipe—what exactly was your plan at that damn factory for the rest of us? As much as I always wanted to subscribe to the idea that you were incompetent enough not to execute Miller the second you had him cornered, I know that wasn’t the case.”

  Hamilton grimaced, as if the mere fact I was ad
dressing him was paining him. Good. I half expected him not to respond, but he did. “My orders were to bring him in alive. I would have shot out his kneecaps before that, to ensure transport security.” If anything, Nate seemed to find that funny but remained silent.

  “And the others?”

  Hamilton gave a tired, one-shouldered shrug. “Of those we had captured already? I would have tried to reason with Burns. Zilinsky I would have put down like the rabid bitch she is. Never should have gotten the serum in the first place, if you ask me. The others, depends on their behavior. After one of you assholes already turned himself into a living weapon by converting, not sure it would have been worth risking that happening a second time. All of them were fucked up enough to stay with you after they had a chance to jump ship when you got marked up. I’m not standing in the way of anyone’s voluntary suicide.”

  I didn’t miss that Richards, Cole, and Hill all kept a rather low, neutral profile. I still had no clue whether they’d been part of that operation, but I’d gotten the sense in the past that hadn’t been the case. We might not have gotten away if Hamilton had more people with their kind of track record at his disposal. Then again, a part of me still marveled that we had gotten away at all, and while I didn’t voice it, deep down I harbored the suspicion that Hamilton had let us get away. I hated having to admit it, but he was more capable than that, and, confusion and luck aside, they could have made it impossible for us to evade their trap after springing it. Hadn’t he said in the past that it should have served as a warning to Nate? I didn’t remember—which only upset me so much right now. I’d certainly waltzed all over that attempt with my crusade—but that had been after I’d been kidnapped and locked in that damn white-tiled cell, and half of our team had either died or been severely crippled in that ambush in the woods.

  “My, it’s such a relief to see that we’re all one huge, happy family,” Marleen piped up as she found her own spot against the opposite wall, next to where Sonia shimmied up to Burns—who had the presence of mind to raise one arm so she could scoot under and press herself against his side. How cute. At least I got to abuse Nate’s shoulder for a pillow, and while he gave me a bemused look, he made no attempt to shove me off him. I might have, in his place, considering how lax I’d been in my cleanup efforts. Then my gaze fell on a bit of dried-up gunk on his thigh next to mine, complete with a clump of brittle hair sticking out of leathery skin, and I figured he couldn’t throw stones. I considered unsheathing my knife to gingerly pick that piece of gore off him, but it was too much effort. It wasn’t my leg.

  With everyone settled down now, Nate did a quick head-count, coming up three short. Blake had lost two of his men, and Richards was one Gallager short. Since I’d seen what had happened to him, I reported that one in, hating how dispassionate my voice sounded. Sure, I hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words with the kid—beyond grossing him out with my fingers—but he’d deserved better than that. I was surprised when Cole spoke up as soon as I fell silent. “You couldn’t have done anything for him,” he assured me, his usual penchant for noting my shortcomings, if in a different way from how Hamilton did it, missing. “I was hunkering down behind a car a few vehicles in front of where you were. I saw him get up, and I saw the two zombies that took him down gear up to come for him. I couldn’t prevent it any more than you could. Wrong move at the wrong time. Bad for him, but we got away. No sense in crying over spilled guts.”

  Something similar had happened to Blake’s guys. One had died right at the beginning of the frenzy like Gallager, the other had bit it in the very middle of crossing the intersection. My accidental route to the western area had likely saved my life as the eastern parts had ended up the epicenter of the shambler incursion. I must have gotten turned around more times than I’d realized, accounting for why I’d ended up one of the last to reach our hideout. I was surprised that Hamilton didn’t point that out but was instead staring blankly at the wall, not engaging with anyone. Fine by me—and pretty much what I fell into myself when exhaustion finally claimed its due.

  We didn’t set up any official watch, but since we were jam-packed into the room with only that single exit, there was not much sense to it. Tired as I was, I wasn’t sure I would be able to fall asleep. That didn’t matter much as simply being able to sit there with my pack between my knees, weapons in easy reach, and right now not about to get eaten sounded great. Once enough of the old, bottled water had been purified, it made the rounds and I forced myself to dig into my provisions to give my stomach something to cramp around, but exhaustion remained the general name of the game. After the last strip of jerky was munched down, Scott switched off the single flashlight we’d been using for illumination, turning our little bunker into even more of a tomb than it already felt to me.

  I may have dozed off a few times but deep sleep was impossible. About two hours in, I felt my body shut down when the adrenaline-fueled kick of the serum finally dissipated. The exhaustion deepened but didn’t knock me out as I’d wished for. At least that would make getting up in the morning a little easier, or so I hoped. Every few minutes I glanced over to the windows, trying to gauge how long until daybreak it still was. The irregular grunts and shifting sounds all around me made me guess the others weren’t getting any more true rest, either. It didn’t matter, really. Most of us were still alive, but I had no expectations that we would remain that way. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest undertaking of my life.

  The sky started to brighten eventually, but nobody made a move to get up. It was only when sunshine glinted somewhere in the distance, reflected on a window, that Nate let out a low sigh next to me and, gently but insistently, pushed me off his side so he could get up. I remained sitting as he first straightened and stretched before starting the short trek to the stairs, stepping over feet and legs until he got to where Hamilton was getting ready himself. They both only took their melee weapons, leaving guns and packs behind to get a brief look around outside. I waited for my heart to seize up or some shit, any indication of loss or whatever, but all I felt was exhaustion still clinging to my body and soul. As long as I didn’t need to get up, I might not even have cared if a shambler had started gnawing on my boots. An eerie silence settled over the basement, as if everyone was collectively holding their breaths, waiting for the inevitable scream, or just the heavy thump of a body hitting the ground.

  Nate returned a good twenty minutes later to get the rest of his things and tell us to get going. He barely more than glanced at me because his pack had remained next to mine, and he was gone as soon as he had strapped it on. I went through my gear cross-check with Richards, which made more sense since our fireteam was now down to an even number. While we waited for the others to finish getting ready, I ended up idling next to Eden, who looked a lot more chipper than most of the guys strapping on their gear. It took me a second to realize why—she was smirking at the guy who’d almost lost it last night because of that scrape that he continued to prod now, still wincing. She didn’t outright call him a baby, but it was hard to miss the message. I couldn’t help but agree with her.

  “I get it now,” I whispered to her, leaning close to make sure the sound of my voice didn’t carry since the doors to the outside were open now. “What your people said when Hamilton shared that crap about the version of the serum that you got. Why that still wouldn’t have changed your minds.”

  Her smile got a little twisted at my words, but her shrug was a light, offhanded one. “You’re worrying too much,” she murmured back. “None of us will be alive long enough for that shit to kill us. So why give a shit?” Her gaze fell on my gloved hands, and if I wasn’t mistaken, on to my left thigh where that landscape of scars was. “None of that would have happened to you if you’d gotten the shot earlier—but all those things made you who you are. Maybe you would have bitten it in the very first week of the apocalypse because you’d have trusted you could survive easily? Or you wouldn’t have dared to be brave in the face of certain death. C
omplacency kills more fools than anything else.”

  I snorted at the fervor—and hint of reverie—in her voice. “I can one-hundred percent say that everything I’ve done that you’d call brave was fueled by fear or stupidity.”

  “If it works for you, why change now?” she quipped. Great—now the crazies were giving me life advice. What did it say about me that I kind of agreed with her?

  Sanity was definitely overrated.

  Five minutes later, the last of us stepped out of our hideout into the bright sunlight of late dawn, the distinct knowledge hanging over us that by the time the sun would set once more, not all of us would still be alive.

  Chapter 11

  It took us a good twenty minutes to make it back to the highway. The rising sun did a good job chasing away shadows, but there was still movement going on occasionally between the cars. I’d been afraid to find it completely overrun, our retreat from the intersection somehow drawing streaks of shamblers after us. Whether we’d gotten lucky there—or terribly unlucky to run into them in the first place—nobody knew. Looking around, I noticed more destruction in these parts—cars not just mangled from accidents but windows smashed, hoods and sides dented as if someone had used them for anger management and failed. The odd cadaver—animals, for the most part—lay torn apart between the wrecks, some still buzzing with flies, others years old. Most were smaller than humans, making me guess they’d been beloved family pets at one time. Out there, in the small villages, most critters had escaped relatively unscathed, leading to a rising population of wandering—if mostly shy—packs roaming through their own kind of paradise. That here the shamblers had been skilled enough to hunt down dogs and cats made the hair at the back of my neck stand on end. That didn’t bode well for us—but then, what else was new? Gallager could attest to their hunting skills. Seeing a partly torn-down sign at the front of a supermarket made me wonder if they’d been smart enough to realize what bounties lay in there. Likely, since we’d more than once had to clear out a store we’d raided before we could check on food boxes. Cereals and rice were often the last non-canned goods left, their plastic packaging keeping enterprising shamblers from smelling the contents. From what I could tell, the undead masses had raided the houses in suburbia as well, or maybe just used them for nesting. As much as those details burned on my curious mind, right now wasn’t a good time to dwell on them. Skipping from cover to cover took my entire focus, and although I felt more rested than last night, it was still a physically demanding task.