Green Fields (Book 10): Uprising:

by Lecter, Adrienne

  I didn’t know what to say at first, a sentiment shared by most of the others. Scott’s glare over to Richards made me guess he was about as happy to hear about that as I was. While it was a sound explanation, it didn’t completely make sense. “I spent some time hiding by the fields the first time I escaped,” I pointed out. “And several of the laborers had scavenger marks on their necks.”

  Nate’s answering smile was shy of nasty. “Harris isn’t here to confirm my guess, but looks like whoever was working on the faulty serum didn’t stop just because we kindly asked them to. What a surprise.”

  Which meant that, one—Alders, that mad scientist we’d found hiding in NORAD, hadn’t been the only one, or driving force behind this after all, even though he had believed that himself. And two—I had an idea who might be behind it now.

  “Ah, crap,” I muttered. The suspicion that, inadvertently, my notes that I’d added to what we’d recovered from the lab in France might have directly factored into this really didn’t make me feel great. It was easy to get lost in that, but something else he’d said made me pause. “Why would you need Harris to confirm anything?”

  Nate briefly glanced at Richards, but since he kept his trap shut, Nate voiced his suspicion. “I’ve heard rumors from some of the other fighters. Nothing confirmed since all of us were either untreated or inoculated with earlier, working versions of the serum. But it sounds like whoever took over that project offered up newly developed versions to those looking for an advantage. You know yourself how convenient it is when you’re constantly out there on the road and don’t have to worry about a scratch or bite anymore. Side effects are reportedly issues with self-control and empathy, turning the newly inoculated test subjects hostile and prone to excessive violence while giving them a general ‘why should I care’ attitude about life. Sound familiar?”

  It was mostly the impact of what he’d just said that made me cut down on uttering a resounding, “Fuck me,” and instead go for a real answer. “What remains of the scavengers.”

  Nate gave something between a shrug and a nod. “Your guess is as good as mine, but that’s my theory.”

  I couldn’t help but glance at Richards for confirmation—with none of the scavengers a part of the briefing, we couldn’t ask them—and we weren’t the only ones, Scott and Blake both looking ready to pound the answer out of him. Richards looked less than impressed by the wave of hostility coming his way—probably due to the drugs still in his system—but he was quick to speak up.

  “That’s not on us. And before your wife jumps to conclusions, it’s not what Emily Raynor has been working on in the meantime. Just as she promised, she has been working on finding a cure for the zombie virus itself, and upgrading the serum to cut out the walking-bomb side effects.”

  I got what he meant, but Blake’s frown told me he didn’t. “That sounds an awful lot like what they just said about the braindead slaves.”

  Richards sent me a vexed look but I was more than happy to let him explain. “Don’t ask me for the science shit—that’s her domain. But our chief scientist has been on this since the very outbreak of the zombie plague. Lewis can give you a very accurate timeline for this since she’s had all the information since that winter after the truce, when she and Miller helped us get that exact information. That was the reason why she agreed to help us, no unexplainable turn in loyalty as you may have been led to believe. Our science division has made progress but they are not even at monkey test level, let alone human tests. Someone else has been working on this.” His gaze then turned to Nate. “My guess is that it must be the same people who have also managed to find and manufacture an astounding array of chemicals that make it through the normally impenetrable barrier the serum builds up.”

  Nate considered for a moment—and much to my surprise was quick to agree. “It makes sense. They also don’t give a shit about what happens to their test subjects, and this way they can easily replenish their supply of laborers. And because everyone would blame you, seeing as you have already clashed with the scavengers quite publicly, it’s the perfect cover. Who would suspect that a town that’s full of drunken assholes and got popular by holding constant gladiator death matches is a secret bioweapon lab?”

  I could tell that the others weren’t quite convinced yet, but it made so much sense—and it also fit perfectly into our working theory. “You think that’s where the other samples ended up that we brought with us from France?” That Hamilton had me pack at gunpoint—another reason that I was quite unhappy not to have been the end of him. “Our guess was that Decker must be using them for whatever nefarious purpose, and this entire fucking city sounds more and more like his stomping ground. Maybe not directly, but it fits too well to be ignored.”

  Nate was slow to offer his opinion, weighing his words but also the others’ reactions first. “Cortez isn’t running a tight ship so my first impulse is to say no. But it could be an extended, almost independent operation that’s used for beta testing. I’ve fought and killed a handful of opponents who were a lot tougher than they had a right to be but had neither marks nor typical military training.”

  “Well, I’ve been wanting to have a word with their chief chemist, anyway. Sounds like that may be someone who might know more,” I pointed out.

  “He’s on my list,” Nate admitted. “And I’m very much looking forward to convincing him to sing like a bird.”

  But I could tell that something wasn’t sitting right with him. “What has you hesitating to agree with me?”

  Once again Nate was gauging Richards’s reactions but obviously not getting what he was looking for. “Call me a conceited, self-important bastard, but if Decker is behind this, how they treated me doesn’t make too much sense.”

  Blake, much to my surprise, had something to say to that. “What, disappointed that the golden boy wasn’t welcomed with open arms?”

  Nate sent him a less than warm look for that, but Blake wasn’t wrong. “Seriously, they did a great job wearing you down and dehumanizing you. Isn’t that like the first thing you told me you do to someone you want to break for good?” I got a weird look from Scott for that, which made me laugh in his face. “What, you still think I’m just a nice piece of ass? Give me some credit. We’ve spent two entire years twiddling our thumbs out there in the middle of nowhere, trying to be ready for whatever fucking shit we might get dragged into if our worst suspicions turned out true. Don’t you think that shit like how to withstand interrogation and how to counter screw with your captor’s mind came up in casual conversation?” Scott didn’t dignify that with a reply, but I got the sense that he was taking me a little more seriously now.

  “It’s possible,” Nate admitted, if grudgingly.

  “And they didn’t know who you were,” I pointed out. “They may know now. Or not, thanks to my stellar acting skills.”

  “You were so high on drugs that you were spouting gibberish,” he snarked.

  “But not too high not to send them on a merry goose chase,” I insisted. “Doesn’t matter. We won’t give them time to do anything with the information.” More nods followed, making me guess that we were about to reach the end of our briefing.

  Nate seemed to agree. “That leaves our list of targets. Once our map is updated, all we need is to pinpoint their likely locations for extractions, and strategize how to best wipe out the vermin. The list isn’t that long. I don’t have the name of their chief chemist but if possible, we should keep the entire drug production crew alive—underlings often know more than their bosses like to admit. There are a few low-ranking officers who I don’t intend to let live but who are prime targets for interrogation.” He quickly recounted seven names—all of which I forgot immediately, trusting that someone else would remember—but perked up on the eighth, and not just because it was a woman’s.

  “Say that again?”

  Nate gave me a curious look but dutifully repeated, “Master Sergeant Cindy Cooper. Why?”

  I wasn’t sure what na
gged me about it. Cole seemed rather amused as he offered, “She was part of one of the strike teams that defended the Colorado base. Tall, blonde, a little older than you, I’d say. We presumed she was killed in action back in Colorado.”

  “She’s alive and well,” Nate retorted, and I didn’t miss the strained undertone in his voice. He hesitated at my imploring look but then spilled the beans. “I’m not sure of her actual position but she was the one who killed the girl who helped me with my shoulder.”

  It was then that my brain, usually so abysmal with names, brought one swimming up from the depth. “That fucking bitch shot me up with something before I managed to escape.” And there I’d thought she’d been a well-meaning, equally enslaved worker bee for the slave-prostitutes’ madam.

  “Then you know who you’re looking for,” was his only response—no warning to keep her alive. Oh, alive I would keep her!

  Just then our spies returned with their drawn maps, right on time to get that last part. They both drew up short, and I got a look not unlike what they’d given Nate when they’d recognized him before. “Was that about two months ago?” the more chatty one of them asked, sounding something between impressed and cautious.

  “Around that,” I answered. “Why?”

  “I fucking knew it!” he enthused, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “I told you last night!”

  “Yeah, you did,” the other responded, a little annoyed. When he realized we were all staring at him, he shrugged. “A while back, a rumor started up but died pretty quickly, for obvious reasons. They quickly tried to suppress it so nobody got any stupid ideas. But from what we heard, someone killed eleven guards.”

  “Not just killed—they got butchered!” the first guy was happy to elaborate. “I talked to this one guy who was on cremation duty that day and he said that they had to literally bring in the bodies in pieces! There were betting pools going on for days who could have done it. The top bets were that one of the arena fighters had made a run for it, but the bookies insisted they were all accounted for. Turns out, that was pretty close, right?” He briefly glanced from me to Nate.

  I couldn’t help but grin brightly at him, showing a few too many teeth in turn. Inside, I didn’t feel quite that triumphant, although I was sure I hadn’t killed anyone who hadn’t had it coming—but still. Eleven? That was impressive. “Still surprised that’s my husband?”

  “Nope,” the one who’d been right offered. “I rest my case.”

  If anything, Nate seemed amused by the story—no surprise there. A few of our compatriots seemed confused or disbelieving. The Ice Queen, of all people, cast a concerned look my way but her features evened out into an impassive mask as soon as she caught me watching her. My, didn’t those thoughts bring up the best of memories? Not much, but I suddenly felt really motivated to pay that camp another visit.

  Nate left me to stew on my revenge plans in favor of completing his missive. “Back on topic—that leaves the prisoners. As I said, no guarantee about what physical or mental state they are in, and it may very well need a week or two for them to pull through withdrawal before we can say for sure who’s of use and who isn’t.” As I’d expected, it was a longer list, fourteen names in all, a selection of the fifty or so he’d previously assumed could be useful.

  And it was when he got to the very last name on the list—after sending me a sidelong glance and hesitating ever so slightly—that it became apparent why Nate had asked for my unwavering, unquestioned support.

  “Cpt. John Hamilton.”

  Chapter 25

  My very first impulse was to sock Nate a good one, on principle and because he deserved it, conniving bastard that he was.

  But then I started thinking—and connecting a few dots that had seemed like random, inconsequential tidbits. I almost started laughing right then and there, and it was impossible to suppress a bright grin. “Fuck me! He’s been there for over a year, do I get that right? He’s their damn reigning arena champion, isn’t he?”

  I could tell that I was annoying Nate with my crowing, but he was smart enough to leave me that. “Yes.”

  “Oh, that’s too precious!” My antics were definitely drawing some confusion, but I couldn’t have cared less. Richards and his people looked surprised going on stunned, although that must have been because of the news, not me. As I kept pondering the ramifications, it was hard to ignore the glee bordering on euphoria that rose inside of me, enhanced thanks to the drugs. It only made sense to voice my thoughts. “I’d like to officially rescind my declared mission in life to take that bastard’s life. May he live a long life and not bite it before the ripe old age of ninety, forever plagued by nightmares that must haunt him well into the next century—if he’s still alive then. Which I hope. So very much.”

  “Are you done?” Nate asked once I fell silent, a moment away from gleefully rubbing my hands together in the ultimate villain gesture.

  “Not for a long time,” I preened, but forced myself to internalize my glee. “But you can wrap this up now. I’m good. This is great news. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

  Nate gave me a rueful smile, but it had an edge. “Because how could I deprive everyone else of witnessing your perfectly mature behavior?” I ignored his jibe, too exhilarated to care. Once Nate was sure that I wouldn’t pipe up again, he went on. “I’m not going to play favorites but Hamilton might be our best bet where information is concerned. Unless something has changed that I’m not aware of?” That was definitely for Richards, who gave the slightest shake of the head. “It pains me to say this but if we can capture Cortez alive, we need to do that. He will know about any and all connections the town has. But if all we accomplish is to take out their entire leadership and end up without a single asshole to beat the information we want out of, I can live with that as well. Take-over is our primary objective. Any questions? Then get ready to move out. We will meet again before we leave with a more concrete plan of action. Until then, eat enough to get through the day and pack some extra ammo. This has the potential to be a quick op but might turn into a shit show of epic proportions. I hope for the former but we need to be ready for anything. If all else fails, maybe we get lucky and the storm takes care of it all for us. Share the important details with your people; we meet again in fifty.”

  The crowd, small as it was, quickly dispersed after that, with Pia the first to disappear to shoo everyone into a frenzy. I gravitated over to where Nate had taken possession of the maps, he and Romanoff already busy marking possible entry and exit routes. The spies proved to be very chatty, as were Marleen, Scott, and one of his undercover guys who had his own details to add. Come to think of it, I was surprised that Marleen had made herself scarce and spent the entire meeting munching bread and listening rather than speaking herself. There was time and opportunity for that now.

  I mostly paid attention to have a good idea what would be going down, but felt my focus slip more often than not. Someone brought me coffee and more food, which helped but only so much. Nate appeared to be his usual calm, stoic self but I could see the mask fraying at the edges. No wonder—he had been injured earlier tonight, his body was severely lacking reserves it needed to heal, and I hadn’t bothered asking him when he’d had the last good rest. His assessment of what kept him going—and how long—had been sketchy at best, and not something I liked to rely on. While the Ice Queen hadn’t protested his insistence on striking as soon as possible, I kind of shared her true sentiment—this wasn’t what was good for him. But at the same time, I understood why he had to do it. Why waiting now wouldn’t just be a colossal waste of an opportunity, but also give his mind a chance to come down—and there was no telling how far he would plummet. Better get the shit sorted out first, we could all lick our wounds later.

  Martinez seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he came sidling up to me, not quite pulling me away from planning but making it obvious that he wanted to talk. “How are you holding up?” he asked, trying not to sound concerned but
failing by a mile.

  I shrugged, doing my best to appear nonchalant. “Considering circumstances, pretty good.”

  “And how’s he holding up?” No need to clarify who he was referring to.

  I considered my words carefully, not just because I didn’t want to blurt anything out that was better left unsaid, but also because I wasn’t quite sure what to reply. That in itself seemed to be an answer already, making the frown on Martinez’s face deepen, so I had to say something.

  “For now? He’s holding up, and I think that’s the only way forward.”

  He grimaced, clearly not sharing my opinion. “You both need some time out,” he muttered, staring into my eyes imploringly. “I mean it. I know you both think you can bullshit yourselves through everything until you make it, but—”

  “No buts,” I interrupted him, lowering my voice so nobody else could hear. “Is he toeing the line of insanity? Yeah, probably. When we were in the camp today, I watched him kill a guy with his bare hands and rip his heart out. And that seems to have been a pretty accurate representation of what life must have been like for him in the meantime. But honestly? I think he’s right when he insists that he needs to act now. Fuck opportunities—he needs this. So I’m going to support him, if only so he knows that he has me a hundred percent in his corner. You know him as well as I do. You know that he will view opposition as lack of faith in him, and if he needs something above all else now, it’s confidence in us to have his back.” I forced myself to stop and exhale slowly to let my mind catch up with what I was ranting about, and channel my anger in the right direction. “You are right when you say that he needs a time-out. And I’ll do my fucking best to make that happen, but after this is resolved. I know how he’s feeling right now. I was the same after getting away from Taggard. I could have done well with food and rest and some good old R&R, but I would have gone mad if I’d been forced into a state of inactivity. That was after a week. He’s been through this for months. He needs this now more than ever. I appreciate your concern, but I feel like that’s betting on the wrong horse right now.”