I also didn’t ask myself if this had been worth it. That had never really been the question—and not my main concern, I realized, when I watched Nate and Hamilton both trot out of the lab in front of me, tired as hell but their heads raised high.
Chapter 16
Since I was among the less wounded, I got first guard shift—four hours of leaning around, listening to the ventilation system drone overhead and not much else. Nobody shot at us, we had food and water aplenty, and no zombies anywhere in sight—it was as close to a vacation as things could get. Exhaustion kept my mind mostly blank of guilt and curiosity, and when it was time to hit the sack, I crashed as hard as I dared—which turned out a full five hours of comatose state that didn’t feel refreshing, but at least my body and mind were functioning again once I pried open gritty eyes.
To make sure that no ninja guards were still hiding anywhere, Nate set a patrol pattern through all parts of the complex, but Cole confirmed from the camera feeds—and there were a lot more of them than we’d expected—that except for us, the corridors and rooms were empty. The first—and only—good news came from him as well, a few hours later. He not only managed to crack the last airlock where four electric cars were waiting for us—no. He went as far as checking the SatNav systems for all of them, and after comparing years of data, came back with a single location all cars had been to at least three times where, as far as we knew, nothing was located. Nothing as in no settlement, no town, no base—from after the apocalypse happened and before. It could be nothing—or something as simple as a navigation point to get anywhere else—but Nate and Hamilton both agreed that it was too good a lead not to follow up. A good two days of driving south of Dispatch, it would be easy to justify swinging by there either way.
The sight of the cars annoyed me for the most part, even if it was, in fact, a huge advantage. If Stone had told the truth—and there was no reason to think he hadn’t; the SatNav data also confirmed the entry and exit vectors they had taken in the past—we’d be out of this hellhole within hours, and we’d scored four additional vehicles that were perfectly fine to keep. There was no way we could have known about how far the tunnels reached or where exactly the exit was. People who killed themselves just to keep vital information from us were unlikely to have left someone behind who we could have pounded the information out of. But, damn, what a colossal waste.
Sonia was still busy patching people up, but thanks to the cars we would be able to take everyone with us who made it. The fact that we didn’t need to find a much less pleasant solution lifted some of the weight off my chest. Getting torn to shreds by shamblers had many disadvantages, but at least it didn’t leave anyone behind who was suffering and needed absolution. Gunshots weren’t so merciful.
We did a thorough search of the personal quarters first, but all too soon I felt myself gravitate toward the lab spaces deeper into the complex. Richards offered to tag along—and Nate made sure to tell the patrols to check in with me whenever they passed—but, frankly, I was glad to have some time on my own. Anyone could go through personal shit and raid the pantry; they didn’t need me for those tasks. And since it only took me two hours of searching in Walter Greene’s office to happen upon the documentation of everything they’d sent to the camp and tested out on the scavengers and prisoners, I could also provide a list of chemicals someone could pick up from the older labs that hadn’t seen use in ages. It was a short list—and the things Nate confiscated because they could be used to craft more explosives was miles longer—but it was something.
When Cole managed to establish a satellite link for communications, I knew that list was too important to let it burn a hole into my back pocket.
Nate and I debated how much, if anything, to share—not because we were super paranoid but because there was real danger lurking out there, and the last thing we needed was to flag anyone previously operating under the radar. There were two obvious exceptions to that—the Silo and Emily Raynor.
We contacted the Silo first since with Blake we had someone who needed to report in, anyway. I went as far as to suggest leaving the room as not to scare off anyone at the other end of the line. Nate cut that attempt at diplomacy short right there but agreed that the three of us—including Hamilton—were better off lurking in the back. The radio tech looked surprised to get a call over video, and wasn’t alone in that, judging from the peanut gallery of people assembling in the back where they thought the camera might not pick them up any longer. Commander Wilkes made an appearance in under five minutes, and while I was sure he noticed us, he didn’t react.
“Sgt. Blake, good to hear from you. Considering your surroundings, I take it your mission was a success?”
Blake looked somewhat astonished by that assumption, and started by delivering the bad news that his team had been reduced to half strength. One of the techs in the back ran out of the room, making me guess that he’d been close to someone they’d lost. Wilkes took the news with the same stoic expression as the recount of the mission that followed. Blake ended it with a quick explanation why we were still here—to check up on possible resources, and information that I was looking for.
“Anything I should ask our squints about?” Wilkes asked when Blake was finished.
Blake cast a sidelong glance in my direction. “I’m afraid I’m not qualified to answer that,” he replied. “Dr. Lewis remains the resident expert for these things.”
Wilkes grimaced, but it was less like he’d bitten into a slice of lemon, and more of the “here we go again” kind. “Then why don’t you let her relieve you, Sergeant? I will inform the relatives of the deceased.” He paused as if he was ready to walk away, but then turned back to the camera. “I presume you will want to stay along for the ride?”
Blake gave a curt nod. “Unless it is of vital importance that we personally deliver whatever we take with us from here, I would like to rendezvous with Sgt. Buehler and her people. We have a vested interest in seeing that Miller and his people succeed.”
Wilkes looked amused by what sounded a lot like a reminder of a previous conversation between the two of them. That made me wonder how much convincing it had taken for Blake to agree to work with us. Buehler had always seemed friendly toward us—and her enthusiasm in getting to work with Zilinsky had been undimmed, getting shot or not—but Blake hadn’t been my biggest fan in the past when he’d had to babysit me. Apparently, he’d changed his mind.
Just then, two familiar faces appeared behind Wilkes, giving the commander a good excuse to leave. Dom and Sunny hadn’t really changed since I’d last seen them—an eternity and several appendages ago, I remembered, not without an unhealthy shot of wry amusement. Blake looked ready to bolt himself so I took pity on him and stepped forward, trying for a diplomatic exchange. Before we’d been banned from the Silo, I would have considered them friends, but considering the shit that had gone down since then—with and without my involvement—I felt like I was skating on thin ice again.
I needn’t have worried, I realized, when they both looked a little anxious but decidedly happy to see me. “Hi, Bree, how are you doing?” Dom asked.
Ever the diplomat, Sunny had to follow that up with, “We heard a lot about what you’ve been up to in the meantime.”
Hell, but I was glad I was still wearing my gloves. I was aware that his utter lack of tact was part of the package with Sunny, but I’d never be able to look past the fact that he’d been annoyed with my inability to deal on a rational, scientific basis with the results yielded from him dissecting the unborn child I’d thought Nate had buried behind that fucking motel.
“None of that’s as interesting as what I’ve found earlier today,” I said, then cut myself off to change tracks. “I presume that, although your people are damn glad they didn’t get inoculated with the serum because of the unexpected side effects, you’d still like the data on that, if only for scientific purposes?”
Sunny nodded impatiently as if even having to ask was unreasonable, while Dom fro
wned. “What side effects? They did tell you that you’d all end as viral walking bombs before they shot you up, right?”
“Hard to miss that since it was one of the perks, not a bug,” I offered acerbically. “But none of us was aware that the immunity to the zombie bites was only temporary. By now, there’s not a single one of us around who hasn’t been bitten, scratched, or worse.” I figured there was no sense in singling the Ice Queen out, particularly if her immunity was still at a hundred percent.
Dom looked horrified, giving Sunny the opportunity to take over. “What news do you have to share?”
Bless him. “Blake has updated you on what’s been going on with the scavengers, the drugs, and that damn camp altogether?” Dom nodded, still too stricken to regain his voice. “Turns out, we now have the master list of the changes made to the serum, and another list of substances that have been confirmed to cut through the protection the serum provides. Since we believe it’s practically useless as a weapon but might save lives when used responsibly, we are happy to share that with you.”
That they knew about that shit—and how it had been verified—became apparent when both men glanced at Nate then, who did a great job ignoring their curious expressions. I figured that pretty much concluded that topic.
“Need anything else from a moderately well-stocked lab that won’t go bad in the heat? I checked—they didn’t have much in terms of antibiotics, but your everyday lab chemicals might be in stock.”
“Nah, we’re good,” Sunny was quick to reply. “Wilkes is regularly sending out the marines to go raid everything they can carry. We have stocks that will last into the next century.” Dom gave him a vexed look that made me guess this hadn’t been knowledge to be shared, although I didn’t see the harm in it.
“Good for you,” I told them. “That’s it from us. Unless you want to know anything else?”
Dom shook his head, but Sunny piped up. “I’m really curious how bad the necrotizing—”
That’s as far as he got. Before I could give Cole the cue to cut the signal, the screen went black. Cole barely glanced in our direction as he muttered, “Oops.” I had to admit, I was surprised by that unexpected show of… whatever that had been. Respect? Loyalty? Disdain for someone’s nosiness he liked less than me?
Emily Raynor was next. Not without some amusement we shuffled Richards in front of the camera, who looked like he would have much rather been anywhere else, including the streets of Dallas above us. As it turned out, none of the soldiers had actually been stationed at that base for much longer than it took to grab us and leave, and they’d only returned for the debriefing. Hamilton only had a deadpan stare for me when I asked where they had been in the meantime, and his silence got the other three to clam up for good.
Masking this as a call between friends wasn’t the worst of ideas, although I figured that if Decker managed to trace it, he’d already know what was actually going on. All the operator who appeared on screen needed to hear was Richards rattling off his rank and name, and the call was immediately transferred to the medical wing. Emily Raynor appeared, a completely alienating smile on her face—that took all of a second to freeze and turn into the perpetual frown that I was much more familiar with.
“Ah, I should have realized that this was a ruse,” she drawled, her British accent as present as ever. “No need for that, of course. I’m more than happy to directly talk to your superiors, honeybun.”
I’d seen Richards squirm before, like when at the meeting before the assault on the camp he’d realized that with Marleen and Sgt. Buehler there were two former bunkmates of his around, but that was nothing compared to how red his face got now, leveling the difference between his skin and hair color. Neither Hill nor Cole pretended not to be a step away from crying with laughter, and I was hard-pressed not to join them. Red’s only saving grace was that Nate and Hamilton one-upped each other in who could pull off that neutral-going-on-hostile non-expression, so I couldn’t very well roll on the floor, laughing.
Damn, but we probably all deserved to be called honeybun.
“Fancy seeing you again,” Raynor quipped in our direction. Hamilton barely got some hostile side-eye. I remembered her disdain for him all too well. On paper, she and I should absolutely get along with each other—if not for the fact that I couldn’t stand her. Nothing had changed about that in the two and a half years since I’d last talked to her. That she’d saved my life—and kept what remained of my body functioning—was beside the point. Richards took that moment to flee, much to everyone’s amusement. “Not that much of a surprise,” she conceded. “You’d both set heaven and hell in motion to drag each other back out of whatever hole someone tried to throw you into.” So much for whether Richards had already given her an update after we’d taken over the camp—or she’d heard the story from a different source and had just used an uncannily accurate figure of speech. She then glanced at Hamilton once more. “But you I didn’t expect to see alive. How did you convince her not to kill you first chance she got? She’s clearly armed and you’re distracted right now—how are you still breathing?”
Bucky offered her a bright smile that creeped me the fuck out. On second thought, I didn’t mind his constant scowls that much. “Looks like someone has more sense than you and deduced that I’m still useful for something.”
I could tell that Nate was already getting annoyed on my other side—making me realize that he’d actually given up on hoping Hamilton and I would bury the hatchet, but as long as we were not literally at each other’s throat, that was enough—and that didn’t change when Raynor pointedly glanced at him. His voice held a certain edge when he responded, making it plain that he liked her even less than I did. “Turns out, common enemies can make for great neutral ground.”
Raynor smiled, and I was sure she knew all too well that he included her in that group as well. “Always good to know. But telling me this can’t have been your reason to mortally embarrass Lt. Richards. You are all so terribly fond of him, after all. Or have allegiances shifted there as well? Nine weeks can be a very long time.”
I almost jumped when Hamilton let out a roar, going from stoic to slapping his thigh in moments. Nate’s glare promising nothing short of deadly violence got him to shut up again, but not before he shook his head and muttered something under his breath about lost causes. Raynor looked annoyed by that outburst, but it was enough for her to drop the point—something I was glad about. I knew this was my chance to cut to the chase before this could deteriorate—and if I actually liked Hamilton coming out of this conversation, I’d eat my boots. I still needed them, so that wasn’t a smart course of action.
“We contacted you because we found some data here that might be of interest to you—provided you didn’t lie to my face and are still actively searching for a cure,” I offered.
She scrunched up her nose. “I make it a habit of always telling the truth.”
I knew for a fact that she wasn’t, but I was beyond bothering to clarify that now. “I have a list here of the substances they tested that made it through the protection of the serum, and I also have documentation of how they continued to tweak the serum, for whatever purpose—possible mind control, maybe, or simply to send anyone interested in it into an early grave.” Considering Stone’s great speech about too many having received access to it, that sounded more plausible than before. “I’ve already shared the data with the Silo,” I pointed out, just so she didn’t get any weird ideas. “I will also send paper copies of the report I’m compiling to every independent settlement that I can reach. The least the scavengers deserve is to know what is happening to them—the same as to the rest of us. I presume you know about the faulty immunity?”
Raynor looked surprised that I brought up that point, but in a different sense than I’d expected. “Why do you think I wanted you out of my wing as soon as possible? I gave you a less than thirty percent chance that the serum would take and halt your inevitable conversion for long. Frankly, when you didn�
��t return to the base, I’d figured you had realized that you were already well past the halfway point and chose to live what little time you had left on your own terms.” Her gaze flitted to Hamilton briefly. “And he corroborated that story—for both of you, I might add.”
This was getting better and better—and I still didn’t know how to handle the fact that Hamilton had repeatedly chosen to help us do our thing. I knew it wasn’t as a favor to either of us, and likely the only way he had been able to rebel and bend orders he didn’t want to follow for whatever non-altruistic reasons, but it still freaked me the fuck out.
The man himself only had a shrug in response to her accusation. “As I said, I must have come in useful somewhere,” he offered gruffly.
Raynor ignored him. “Yes, I want that list. I want everything you can give me. I presume biological material is out of the question?”
I shook my head. “Stone destroyed what I’m sure were all the useful samples they had in storage before we got to him. We have no way that we could get anything to you that wouldn’t end up destroyed in the heat.” Liquid nitrogen kept shit cold, but it also had a tendency to evaporate in warmer temperatures. Without one of those nifty special cases that Hamilton had had with him in France—and the cold of winter—that wasn’t an option.
“Stone? Brandon Stone?” Raynor asked, not trying to mask her incredulity. “What does that weasel have to do with any of this?”
“You knew him?” I asked, not bothering to hide the fact that he was dead.
“Of him,” she pointed out. “He was the figurehead leader of the laboratory in Kansas. No competence whatsoever. Apparently, I stand corrected.”
“Not necessarily.” I quickly brought her up to date with our recent encounter. “Is that lab still operational?”
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