Green Fields (Book 10): Uprising:

by Lecter, Adrienne

  But that was before I’d learned what had happened over the past two and a half years.

  As homesick as I was feeling right now—and had been the entire time we’d been gone, that much I could admit to myself—that unease was stronger. What had I ever done to deserve their loyalty and friendship? But I could think of a few things I’d done to jeopardize it.

  Only time would tell, I guessed—and time was something Nate didn’t have. Tomorrow it would be twenty-three days since I’d last seen him as they’d dragged him off. Three weeks felt like nothing, sometimes, and considering the distance I’d had to traverse to get to my destination, three weeks were a very short timeframe—but I bet that, to him, they were well past an eternity.

  Meeting my people again was only the first step in getting him back; who knew how many more until we arrived at the perimeter of the camp, and how long it would take us to breach it? A month? Three? That idea made me sick to my stomach, but it came with a single advantage: I suddenly didn’t care any longer about the reception I’d get tomorrow. Fuck the grief they might want to air and the beef they had with me—all I cared about was Nate. If they were really my friends—ours, really—they’d help. If not, then not. It was that easy—and that was all I cared about. So fuck those weirdo, drugged-up scavengers; fuck the traders; fuck fucking Gabriel Greene and the horse he rode in on.

  There was comfort in that knowledge, but it came with a new bout of paranoia. Nate had once joked that I was his single vulnerability, and also his greatest strength. What did it say about me if getting him back made me ready to go to war all over again? That the same was true for me. Romantic as that notion may have been, it came with a huge drawback: it turned me into a tool, and one that was very easily controlled at that. That very idea made me want to do the polar opposite of what I felt pressured to do, but that was, of course, impossible. So where did that leave me?

  I had a feeling I would find out soon enough—and likely after it was already too late.

  Chapter 12

  Considering the scavenger’s posturing at the shore, they were surprisingly subdued during the rest of the day, and also the following night. They didn’t miss a few chances to harass the traders—who ignored them—and Gallager—who was too afraid of them to do anything but hide by the Humvee. Smart boy. There was some gloating and name-calling going on toward me but I chose to ignore it as best I could; it simply wasn’t worth the trouble, and I’d heard worse coming from people I harbored more resentment for. Richards took it in stride as if he hadn’t expected anything else from me, but Cole seemed downright puzzled as he stopped next to where I sat on the Humvee’s grill, gazing out onto the ocean, trying to munch my morning jerky with as much meditative deliberation as possible.

  “You know, I would have expected at least a small tussle, a few broken bones,” he commented. “Not you going all Mother Teresa on them.”

  I stared at him long and hard—willing him to lose interest and just leave—but no such luck. “Has it maybe occurred to you that some of what you’ve perceived as my normal behavior was me actually acting like a stressed-out, caged version of myself, mostly due to some fucktard doing everything in his might to put me down? I know, surprise, surprise. I can act like a normal human being when I’m not constantly being threatened and disparaged. Who would have thought?”

  He considered that for a second but shook his head, grinning. “Nah, not buying it. Either you’re pretending to be all meek and calm because you lack backup, or you’re half of a mind you might need their support later.”

  I hated that he kind of had a point—in both cases—but not entirely. “Would that be so bad? I still don’t get why you’re helping me, but I know someone has ulterior motives in this game and I’m not going to like that. I know I won’t manage to get anything done with just the four of you along. Those weirdos over there might just be insane enough that I can hurl them at that camp and use them as a distraction. Can you say the same for your people? For all I know, nobody in the army has a clue that you’re here, with me tagging along.”

  I knew I was right when I didn’t get any gloating back. It was both a relief and a disappointment—because in the end, I needed someone’s help, and as things were shaping up right now, “anyone” would soon sound good if they only volunteered.

  “But you know why we are doing it,” Cole stressed. “With them, can you even trust them not to deliver you on a silver platter to demand special treatment from whoever runs that camp? Because I’d be very worried about that.” He did some gazing out over the ocean of his own, ignoring my baleful glare. “LT said to tell you that we’ll be in New Angeles in about two hours from now. Should be showing on the horizon any moment. You know that they know you’re coming? Better get your speech ready.”

  I laughed softly as I shook my head. “Not intending to give any kind of speech. And there’s nobody in New Angeles I feel the need to convince of anything.”

  “Well, they might disagree,” he prompted and turned to finally leave me in peace—but not quite yet. “You are aware that your usual MO won’t work? People are tired of fighting for causes. Of dying for causes. You may have rallied hundreds by pointing at the next best scapegoat and letting them loose, but nobody gives a shit about you or your husband anymore. Or about the fact that we’ve rediscovered the greatest achievements of our civilization—slavery and indentured servitude. Trying to pander to their finer sensibilities will only get you one thing: shot. You’ll have to be smarter than that.”

  All I had for him was a slow smile. “And there I almost thought you had a clue who I really am. So glad to know that’s not the case.”

  Cole finally turned away with a snort, amused by what he probably thought was me deflecting. While completely wrong about my warmongering nature, I appreciated the warning he’d inadvertently given me. I hadn’t planned to do any kind of rallying call, but my knee-jerk reaction about that camp and what was going on there was to get into everyone’s face and ask them how they could let something like this simply happen, and continue to exist. Good to know that I needn’t bother.

  As Cole had predicted, soon New Angeles came into view to the northwest as we kept hugging the coast. Even from afar, the ruins of the gigantic old city made my skin crawl, while the industrial bustle of the new core reaching from the beach further inland than I remembered sat in clear defiance to everything that common sense dictated nowadays. In the middle of the day, the entire bay was busy with fishing boats, and off to the deeper waters I could see several groups of tied-together ships still—their last-resort, ready-for-action navy that had already been around back when I’d first come here, remnants of how they’d taken back the city—and, from what I could tell, it had grown substantially. That made me wonder if they’d taken over the many islands yet—there had been talk about it back in the day, but since I’d never actively belonged to the community, nobody had shared any details with me. Fat chance they’d do so now. I couldn’t even say why that rankled, except that having an island to oneself sounded like a pretty neat bug-out plan—except that I was lacking someone to bug out with.

  The captain came on deck once more, this time not to threaten us but to declare that we’d gotten clearance to dock, and that everyone was to get off as soon as we landed, except for “those who have business elsewhere.” The traders cast a few glances in Red’s direction since the captain practically glared at him, but no questions were asked, so none got answered. The trader who’d been pretty friendly with me yesterday gave me a look that I couldn’t quite place; it wasn’t entirely hostile but also not friendly. I had a certain feeling that he knew who was squatting a few hours up the coast from the city, and what that might say about my identity. I didn’t need anyone to warn me not to open my mouth and doom myself.

  That last few miles ended up rather tense, and things got even more interesting as the ship prepared for docking, aiming for a suddenly completely abandoned part of the dock, with no other boat around for at least a mile’
s radius. The dock itself was far from empty, quickly filling with all kinds of people, all of them heavily armed and in protective gear.

  I couldn’t say I was surprised about that welcome committee, but I was far from happy about it.

  And, wouldn’t you know it, at the head of the group stood none other than Gabriel Greene—a little older than I remembered, a little more grizzled—a look that suited him, I had to admit. That sleek trust fund-baby-turned-CEO thing he’d had going on before the shit hit the fan hadn’t survived well into the year after. Now he sure looked the part of spymaster and brain of one of the world’s last surviving cities.

  The ship came to a halt and lines were cast to moor it to the dock; the ramp was extended once more, and once the guards at the dock made room, the scavengers were the first to disembark, gathering on the dock once they were out of the way to let the traders follow. I had a strong inclination to go hide in the Humvee, but I was sure that Greene had already spotted me where I’d watched near the stern earlier, so I remained standing, a little apart but close to Richards and his men to watch the proceedings in silence.

  The sooner we were done here, the sooner we’d be able to go further north, the better.

  Of course, Greene had other plans—yet before he could make any declarations or grand gestures, one of the scavengers sauntered across the dock toward him. I’d vaguely flagged the tall, muscular guy as their leader, but from what I could tell, they had some weird kind of consensus thing going on—weird for me as, either way, I was used to someone being in charge, even though they might or might not have asked others for their opinion. The female scavenger who’d tried to start shit with me was still glaring at the ship, roughly in my direction, making me guess that she hadn’t forgotten about me yet.

  The scavenger stopped when two of the guards close to Greene stepped forward, a silent reminder to keep a distance. The scavenger raised his hands placatingly—appearing anything but—as he rocked to a halt. “Gabriel! What a surprise!” he hollered. “Such a lovely procession you have here, and all in our honor? You shouldn’t have.”

  Greene had been looking at the ship, deliberately not paying any attention to the scavengers, but upon being approached, he scrutinized the man walking toward him. “Amos,” he acknowledged with a dry tone that made me smirk for a second. So much derision and boredom in just one word—I hated to admit it, but I’d kind of missed Greene’s all-around assholery. That probably said a lot about how entertaining my social life had been since our return to the States. “Much as it pains me to have to open my doors to you and yours, but the procession isn’t for you at all. You can go right on over to the barracks; I’m sure someone will have some hot chow and cool booze ready for you.”

  What had been a rather triumphant grin on Amos’s face froze, his eyes narrowing as he took a step forward. Greene remained unfazed but his guards closed ranks, building a wall of bodies and weapons between him and the scavengers. The bitch who’d come after me joined him, cocking her head to the side as if she had problems making sense of the situation—or not. “Why would you bring so much manpower for a whore and four lapdogs?” she asked.

  I thought it was Cole who chortled behind me but it could have been Hill as well. I didn’t turn to check. I was more interested in Greene’s reaction—and he didn’t disappoint.

  Greene’s brows rose at that statement, his gaze remaining focused on the scavenger for a moment before zooming right up to where I was hovering, apparently not as out of sight as I’d figured, a slow smile spreading across his face. He focused on the scavenger again, giving her one of those infuriating politician smiles. “Eden, Eden. When will you learn?” he more muttered than said, making both scavengers frown, but Greene didn’t seem to care about antagonizing them. Louder, he asked, “Did you call her that to her face as well? Of course you did. And you’re still breathing, which tells me what I needed to know. As always, a pleasure.” I was sure that most onlookers were as confused about that statement as Eden and Amos seemed, but Greene has apparently lost all interest in them.

  I figured, since he seemed so keen on a conversation, I might as well step up to the top of the ramp so I could look down at him unhindered. If he really wanted to have me gunned down, a sniper could have done so minutes ago. Greene and I stared at each other, him still wearing that slightly triumphant smirk, my expression hopefully as cold and hard as I felt inside. Maybe I was wrong—and I’d be very, very happy to find out I was—but somehow I got the sense that the general goodwill that Greene had harbored toward me in the past was all gone.

  Yet before either of us could spew venom in the other’s face, Eden had to rain on our posturing parade. “Who exactly are you, whore?”

  I cut down on my impulse to tell her to fucking stop calling me that, but Greene, rather unexpectedly, came to my rescue. “As much as I may share the sentiment, I’m sure the insult is wasted on this one. Very likely unfounded as well as her dedication to her husband seems to be the only virtue she has left.”

  I couldn’t very well let that sit on me. “My disdain for you is a close second,” I called down, offering up a smile.

  One thing Greene had always had going for him—he wasn’t actually insulted by my insults, and that hadn’t changed. His grin at my statement was real, if short-lived. “That’s true. I almost forgot how unforgiving and vindictive you are.”

  “Hardly.”

  His grin broadened. “You mean, you’re not?”

  “That you’d be able to forget that I am,” I corrected.

  Ever the showman, Greene bowed, his arms stretched out to the sides. “My bad, indeed. Well, let me welcome you back to our fine city. Or as one could also say, the prodigal daughter returns.”

  I didn’t even try to suppress a shudder as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Way to make things even more creepy between us as they already were. I kind of miss the days when I was still deciding whether you just wanted to bash my face in to scare me, to actually kill me, or were really incompetent at raping me.”

  Greene’s grin never faltered but it did turn wry at that. “And, as always, your arguments are delivered like a bucket full of shit—not very effectively.”

  Oddly enough, if there hadn’t been a ramp and a dock filled with armed guards between us, I might have offered him my hand to shake. Or tried to clap him hard enough on the back to make him stagger. As it was, I had to leave it at a satisfied smile, hoping that I wasn’t reading his banter wrong. “Well, what can I say. That’s me in a nutshell.”

  Greene was the only one who laughed, but since I didn’t see a single familiar face down there besides his, I didn’t much care about the rest. Deep down I’d expected to see Gita there with him, but for now I had to hope that she was still alive and doing well. Maybe Burns would know—provided he was still alive and doing well, also, but I wouldn’t allow myself to consider that not being the case.

  “Where’s your worse half?” Greene asked, drawing my attention back to him.

  “Don’t you mean, better half?” I groused, just for the sake of it.

  “Nope,” Green told me succinctly. “Myths and old wives tales aside, I’ll never believe that you’re capable of outdoing the shit he’d already had sticking to him long before you even met.”

  I shrugged. “Apparently, I now cause civil wars without being present, or actually while being dead. I’d call that quite a feat, wouldn’t you say?” The two scavengers perked up at that, and a few of the traders—still lingering not to miss the show—looked downright disconcerted. I did my best to ignore all of them, keeping my attention on Greene.

  He begrudgingly inclined his head. “You do seem to have a skill to inspire people who have never met you to believe the worst of you. I can see it in those who have crossed your path but will always marvel at the rest.” He added a dramatic pause there but went on when no curious questions came from anyone. “I see you’re avoiding answering my question. I completely understand why. I should probably extend my condolence
s to you. Your husband may have deserved the reputation he had, but not the end he has likely met in the meantime. It’s been, what? Three weeks now?”

  I had to fight for composure for a second, the urge to come down that ramp and punch the answers right out of Greene so strong it almost overwhelmed me. It took me a few deep breaths to steady my voice to the point where I could ask instead. “What the fuck do you know?”

  Greene remained calm, but the always-present teasing quality disappeared from his tone. “Less than you do, presumably, but enough to draw the conclusions that you would have come to already if you weren’t, well, you. Nobody has ever gotten away from that camp after they got caught.”

  “I got away,” I pointed out.

  Greene cocked his head to the side, considering me for a moment. “I can guess why, going on your unusual combination of physical shortcomings and compensatory strengths. Consider yourself the one lucky exception. Nobody would have underestimated your husband like that. It pains me to say that, but I will miss him. In his own way, he was someone I always considered good to know he was still around, if maybe not for my personal health. If you’re here looking for support to go on another crusade, I have to disappoint you. We don’t have anyone to spare for fool’s errands.”

  “I’m not here to ask anything of you,” I clarified, pretending like his words didn’t make my heart sink. I didn’t allow myself to believe him—I simply couldn’t. “Except information, maybe, but since you already confirmed that you know nothing, I’m happy to take my leave. I’m just passing through.”

  “Not quite yet,” Greene offered, his attention skipping from me to something to my right—Richards, if I wasn’t completely oblivious. “You weren’t the one bargaining for passage, and you’re not the one who’s here on a mission.”