I hated it when he made sense about something that had become pretty much pure illogical loathing deep inside my soul. My following silence seemed to be answer enough, although I wondered if it was the right message received. I couldn’t wait to sit down with the Ice Queen—and Burns, and Martinez, and Andrej, and all the others, but foremost her because she was the closest to an uncompromisable straight shooter among my people—and ask her opinion. And hopefully, it would come right on the back of a stellar plan of how to get Nate back.
If only I’d be able to keep them from gunning down these four fine specimens I was traveling with…
I had to admit, I felt foolish that now was the first time I’d actively considered how that meeting would go down—for anyone besides me. While I expected to get some flak for what I’d done—and where I’d been after that—I knew, deep down, that my people would forgive me, if there was even anything to forgive. But they’d seen Richards at the Colorado base, and might know Hill and Cole as well, and I didn’t hold it above Burns to simply keep his trap shut as a potential character witness and let someone else take care of that problem. I really didn’t like that idea. I may not see eye to eye with them, but they had volunteered to help, and I might very well need them before we were done with all this. Considering how much blood there was already on my hands, I didn’t need to add that of people I at least somewhat cared about—and maybe a little more than I should.
“Any pointers you want to give me how to act around them if we’ll spend an entire day on the same boat? I presume Greene has some rules in place, or else he wouldn’t have given you the go-ahead to use this route,” I mused.
Cole, again, proved to be a real charmer as he responded. “How about you don’t act like a vapid bitch?”
“That’s my winning personality you’re talking about,” I harped back, waiting for Richards to give his two cents.
“He’s not entirely wrong,” Red stated with more conviction than my ego felt was necessary. “If I thought it would help, I’d tell you to keep your mouth shut and avoid eye contact, but we all know that you never back away from a pissing contest. So maybe just try to be a little less like you. Remember how you bristled at Gallager calling you a deserter? They might think the exact same thing since you’re hitching a ride with us. Deescalating any arising situation might be a good idea.”
I almost bit out whether he thought I was even capable of that and left it at a curt nod. I could do that, no problem. Just because I kind of got off on flying off the handle didn’t mean I had to.
But looking over at those cars—and seeing a few of their passengers eye us with what I presumed was equal consideration and disdain as we had going on—really made me want to. Somehow, I didn’t think they’d give me a choice. Maybe that was a good thing.
Chapter 11
The scavengers drew ahead of us eventually, mostly because Red let them. At first glance, that seemed very reasonable, and also turned out to come with the added benefit of us being the last vehicle to arrive. I’d expected some kind of dock structure or an old, abandoned marina. What we found was what I realized must have been a wharf or dry dock, and a small tanker-like ship idling at the very end of it. There was a huge retractable ramp extended toward land, but the concrete structure that led up to it was barely wide enough to let a truck—or Humvee—traverse it. There were already ten other vehicles waiting, not counting the scavengers who’d beaten us there. None of them were military vehicles, and at a first glance I would have shelved all the others as traders, if rather heavily armed ones. It was only as we drew to a halt and a few of them turned to face us that I realized that several of them also had three marks, not just one. They looked at the Humvee with the same disdain as they had for the scavengers, making me wonder if they belonged to the faction that was the most neutral in this newly shifted power struggle.
I really needed a cheat sheet for this, and stat!
I would have loved to remain inside the Humvee, but as soon as he’d turned off the engine, Red got out, the others following. I did my best to appear as uninteresting as possible but I could tell that, to all of them, I must have stuck out like a sore thumb. My gear was nowhere near as good as that of the not-traders and a very far shot from the top-notch quality the scavengers sported—although that was easy to miss at a first glance because of the paint they’d put all over it; simulated blood and gore, I figured. I obviously didn’t belong to the soldiers, which was still something I prided myself on, but since it drew curious looks, it wasn’t that convenient. I tried my very best not to look anyone in the eye but also not mime the cowed, beat-down refugee that I kind of was. That, at least, should have put me a long shot from who I was—or had been, more precisely—acting as a good cover.
That still left a lot of room for improvement.
Richards didn’t show any hint of concern as he walked by scavengers and traders alike to talk to the cargo officer of the ship and his loading personnel. The other three soldiers remained clustered together by the Humvee but did a good job pretending they were simply hanging around rather than guarding each other’s back. In all fairness, they drew more attention than I did, even when I joined them, looking around the desolate coastal wasteland for any kind of trouble. Nothing moved out there, the beacons having permanently cleared the entire area. Their low thrumming still set my teeth on edge when the next sequence hummed toward the coast from inland, the last three of them strong enough I could feel them in my very bones. That’s why I almost missed one of the scavengers—a woman, judging by her wild, long hair—sneering a low, “Whore!” in my direction.
None of the soldiers responded, but Cole wasn’t the least bit stealthy about turning around so he could see how I’d react. A few of the traders cast glances our way as well but, like before, they didn’t seem impressed by the bunch of spray-painted idiots. I knew I shouldn’t say anything, but after a few seconds passed and I heard the bitch chuckle, I just couldn’t let it pass. So I muttered, just loud enough that she’d hear it, “And your father smelt of elderberries.”
Cole cracked a smile, making me guess he wasn’t completely immune to my pop culture references after all, and two of the traders grinned outright. I kept a straight face and my back turned to the scavengers, waiting to see what would happen.
I didn’t have to wait long; five seconds later, strong fingers wrapped around my shoulder and jerked me around. From up close, the ridiculous face paint—more black and red, with some white over it—looked even worse, and I was tempted to ask her how early she had to get up to have all that ready and set for the day. One of the reasons why I kept my hair braided up was because I couldn’t be bothered to brush it most mornings.
“What did you just say, bitch?”
I gave her one slow, deliberate blink, but neither tried to pull away or give any indication I was intimidated by her—which I wasn’t. Under all that garish getup, we were pretty much evenly matched physically, which meant I could wipe the floor with her in my sleep. Feeling that superior helped keep my voice perfectly even and pleasant as I drawled, “Nothing.” Shit, but I was turning into Nate.
Her fingers tightened, and she raised her other hand in a fist. The gesture was so overdone it was easy not to react—if she fought like that, all obvious moves, it would be child’s play indeed to best her. It was only then that I noticed exactly how wide her eyes were, the pupils dilated far beyond what the bright sun overhead should have made possible. I quickly reversed my assessment of her—I had no idea what she was on, but people could get freakishly strong if they rocked the wrong chemicals.
But the same was true for me.
“Guess I called your mother a hamster,” I responded, still calm but now watching her every reaction closely. She blinked twice as she worked through my words, another sign that her mind wasn’t as sharp as it should—or could—have been. Confusion crossed her expression before turning into yet more rage. Her fingers digging into my shoulder hurt, and her entire body seemed to vibrate
with tension. Someone was really looking for a fight.
Well, she’d definitely met her match there, because so was I.
It was that very thought that made me back down, unease gripping me that had nothing to do with possibly losing, or losing face.
“It’s a joke,” I explained, making sure my voice was as calm as if I was talking to a dangerous animal. In a sense, I figured I was. “A bad one. From a movie. Entirely inappropriate. My bad. Please forgive me, I meant no insult. I thought you were the kind of people who’d find that funny.”
Again, that same fight raged behind those eyes as she tried to make sense of my words—and like I’d led her to, she jumped to the conclusion that I wasn’t worth it. She snarled in my face as she pushed me away and let go before stalking off back to her people. All of them were watching me now, one of the guys swaying ever so slightly from side to side. If I had to take a guess, I’d say none of them were sober, clean, or not under the influence of whatever made them trigger-happy lunatics. Or more trigger-happy, and way past where they should have been locked up in the loonie bin. My attention roamed to their vehicles; yes, those were definitely bones, but with strips of cloth wrapped around them rather than flesh. Still weird as fuck but somewhat less of a health hazard.
Turning back to the soldiers, I found Richards had rejoined the group. He gave me a vexed look for my trouble but didn’t say anything, instead turned to the Humvee and got back behind the wheel. We watched in silence as he got it over the ramp and onto the ship. The trader cars were next, piling them on according to what group they belonged to. Last, the scavengers got their turn not sending a vehicle down into the surf below. Whoever was driving knew what they were doing, but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy around them—and none of that was due to their behavior and get-up anymore.
I must have been a little too obvious in my studying as one of the traders sidled over, joining me in my perusal. “Been a while since you’ve got to deal with the finer elements of modern society, huh?”
I gave him a calculating look—that should have dissuaded him from wanting to further talk to me—but toned it down to a grunt. “What makes you think so?”
His bright grin was a startling surprise to how guarded he’d seemed a moment ago. “No offense, but your gear is crap—except for your weapons. That makes me think you spent time out there, far away from all the shit that’s been going on. Can’t say I blame anyone for going for that option. Missed some nuances, probably. Then shit caught up with you, and you had to cash in some favors, look up some old contacts.” His gaze briefly flitted to the side of my neck where the collar of my jacket was turned down just enough to show my marks. It made sense he’d assume I was former army to have gotten them, and that’s how I’d ended up with Richards and his men.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I offered, but with a smile that should have told him I had my reasons not to spill my life’s story. Hell, if I’d learned anything over the last few years from the people I hung out with, it was that everyone had skeletons in the closet. Except for those scavengers, who used them as hood ornaments. I shuddered again as I watched the last vehicle go past us and up the ramp. “Just makes me wonder where that went wrong.”
He laughed softly under his breath. “Yeah, don’t we all? Listen, I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but if you need help, we’ll get you some up in the city. You may trust those guys, but they have a habit of not letting people off the hook once they get too tight once more. Happened to a buddy of mine. Good guy, and way too trusting.”
Considering what Red had told me, I was surprised by the offer, but maybe shouldn’t have been. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more,” I professed, maybe a little too freely. “But fact is, I may need them longer than I want to hang out around them.”
The trader nodded wisely, not pissed off that I wasn’t dishing any details. “You got someone else to rely on out there? Because if not, get your ass back to New Angeles somehow and ask for Hernandez. He’s my contact there at the armory. At the very least he’ll set you up with some good folk who’ll give you some good gear and let you do honest work for a living. Doesn’t have to be those idiot junkies and their senseless war.”
The nameless trader walked back to his people then, and I found Cole looking at me, bemused. “What?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t take you long to get comfy with the natives.”
“Afraid I’ll take my first chance not to spend so much quality time with you?” I quipped.
“Life does get more interesting when you’re around,” he joked. “Come on, let’s get on the ship before they decide they’re better off without you. Wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”
I left it at a snort as I followed him, walking over the retractable ramp after the scavengers had joined their vehicles near the bow. It was only then that the meaning of the trader’s words sunk in; he’d called them junkies—just like the doc at the settlement had figured I was on the tail end of a really bad trip. Her latent resentment—also for what counted for my life choices these days—suddenly made a lot more sense. I would have snarled at that, too. And I could see how she’d jumped to the conclusion, all the other details considered, like that I was obviously someone who’d seen conflict and not always gotten away clear. That still didn’t explain what the hell was going on with these people, but it was something. Part of me was tempted to go over to them and ask—what’s the worst that could happen? But I knew that was a stupid idea, and not just because my brief encounter with one of them had gone so exceptionally well. Maybe I could bother that trader for a few more details? We had a good twenty hours on that ship—lots of time for talking. As much as I appreciated Red’s update, I didn’t trust him not to have a heavy bias—and add more to manipulate me. Looked like some things really hadn’t changed. As much as it wouldn’t help me right now, I got the sense that, eventually, I should find out what had.
As soon as everyone and their packs were on board, the crew got everything ready and moving, and we cast off without much fanfare. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a boat—over two years ago, the destroyer to France and back being the exception, and that had been a very different experience—but this one was heavy and low enough in the water to be surprisingly stable, only minimal rocking going on. The vehicles took up maybe a third of the deck; most of the rest was jam-packed with all sorts of containers and odds and ends, as if someone had gotten really busy collecting all the things people might have a use for later—provided they were not on the road and could simply pick up new items somewhere. It made sense that the boat would haul stuff for the city—or other settlements—along, and I didn’t doubt that below deck there would be more still, probably the things they didn’t trust us with. The crew seemed to consist of fifteen people, all of them well-armed, and they eyed all of us with equal disdain. I was immensely curious to find out what fuel the ship was running on, but curbed my enthusiasm in favor of not attracting too much attention.
We were maybe fifteen minutes into our journey when a man in his late forties appeared on deck, the fact that several of the crewmen stood a little straighter giving away that he must have been someone important. The captain, it turned out, as he introduced himself with a loud, sure voice not unaccustomed to shouting at people around him.
“You’ve been warned before, but let me remind you of the rules on my ship,” he told us in no uncertain terms. Nobody had told me anything, but I figured Red had, for once, expected me not to behave like an imbecile. I wisely didn’t point out how negligent that had been. “You’ve been allowed to keep your weapons, but draw them on any one of the crew, and you go overboard. Attack each other, and you go overboard. Cause any undue trouble—overboard. Instigate any kind of shit—you’ve guessed it: overboard. And there’s a very good chance we’ll add whoever you belong to, and your vehicles, so don’t tempt me. Don’t fuck with us. You all got clearance from New Angeles, and you better make sure you earned that trust, or we will take matters into our
own hands. Understand?”
A chorus of murmurs rose—including from the scavengers—making me guess that was part of the deal. The traders looked bored rather than alarmed so I figured it wasn’t out of the ordinary. It sounded fair enough. The soldiers took it all with their usual stoic lack of emotion. The scavengers were grumbling among themselves but went mostly ignored.
The captain went on after he must have felt his message had sunk in. “In the unlikely event that we encounter pirates, we’d be much obliged if you’d help us defend our vessel. Since you’ll end up just as dead as we will, it’s in your best interest. Any questions? Keep them to yourselves and don’t cause any trouble for us, and this will all be over soon.”
He disappeared with about the same amount of aplomb as he’d shown upon his arrival, leaving us to do whatever we wanted to. I waited for Red to give any orders—I’d at least consider his suggestions—but the others had already retreated to various places around the Humvee, Hill and Cole starting a game of cards. I kind of appreciated it that he didn’t warn me not to do anything stupid but missed the opportunity to tell him to fuck off. With nothing else to do, I strolled around the Humvee and over to the railing, looking out over the ocean beyond. There was a light breeze going, invigorating in the blazing heat, and watching the coast in the distance was something to do. I wondered if I should ask the traders if anyone was willing to lend me a book—if they had any along; the soldiers didn’t—but since they seemed to keep to themselves as well, I didn’t bother. I wasn’t that bored yet.
Maybe now I’d come up with what to say to my people once we got to their settlement? Because, try as I might, I didn’t have a clue how to start that conversation—and that wasn’t anything I was accustomed to. Under different circumstances, I would have laughed at myself, and at the low-key feeling of dread that the idea of coming face to face with them once more made appear in my stomach. I’d never had any doubt about seeing them again, and that I’d be welcome—
Green Fields (Book 10): Uprising: Page 14