Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak (21 page)

Typical.

As if our recreational activities had changed something, we started stopping a little earlier each night, Pia shooing everyone up to do some exercise who wasn’t busy guarding the perimeter. There was the expected amount of protest, but most still joined in the sprinting, jumping, doing workouts, or just plain fooling around, depending on how tired everyone was. I was hesitant at first—and not just because my legs hurt enough that I even considered not getting up to pee but waiting until I absolutely had to—but when even Steve let himself get dragged along, I couldn’t very well play prissy princess on the sidelines. As a woman of my time—even a somewhat lazy one who loved to use the excuse of too much work to skimp on her workouts—I was no stranger to body weight exercises, but it was no surprise that pretty much everyone put my measly forty-second plank to good shame. I didn’t get much beyond one pushup because Pia was on me at the second, poking and prodding me all over for where to use more tension, eventually making me crash face-first into the dirt when I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. Burns ribbed me for that over the next two days, until I managed my first set of fifteen without almost dying. To prove just what a jackass he was, he told Martinez to sit down across his shoulders while he did his three sets of thirty. Proving that I was always game for a comeback, I accepted Martinez’s grinning invitation and jumped onto his lap, letting him hold me bridal-style. Sadly, that only got a rather pained groan out of Burns but he still managed to complete that set—even with our combined weight on his torso—but at least that put an end to his joking.

It was easy to forget what was happening around us in those thirty minutes or so. Never having had brothers—and the extent of physical exercise that Sam had been up to was yoga—it was strange to get caught up in that at first, but I realized that I actually liked it. Being on my feet the entire time—with the odd weapons drill or raid to break up the monotony—I felt like I was already becoming more attuned to my body, and exercise helped. It was also a hell of a fun way to burn what little energy the long days left in us, and it helped decrease the latent level of frustration and hunger-borne aggression. So far, everyone seemed to have agreed to try to get along as much as possible but of course there had been the odd altercation over stupid shit; now, that was increasingly more often settled in a set of sprints or some honest-to-God punching, at least until Bates sprained his wrist and he and Cho got a ten-minute tongue lashing from Nate that had me snickering quite openly. Of course that led to Pia ordering me to do another set of sprints because I clearly had too much energy left to burn if I could still laugh my ass off, but that was so worth it.

Where possible, we remained close to the river, using it as a loose guideline for our route. When we got closer to one of the many towns and cities along the Wabash did we veer off inland, only to return as soon as the riverbanks were clear again. It wasn’t necessarily cooler close to the water, but at least we could fill up our flasks all the time, and more often than not we stopped for an hour or three when the June sun beat down mercilessly on us. I still didn’t quite understand why we were advancing at a punishing pace without taking a day off when we found a completely deserted place where we could have relaxed and let our guard down somewhat. By then it had been days since we’d seen the last trace of any living inhabitant anywhere, and while still a massive problem when encountered in larger numbers, the zombies weren’t that much of an issue as long as we were careful. Wyoming was still a damn long distance away, but I doubted that a day or two would have made a difference.

It was on one of our larger treks away from the river, around some slightly more heavily populated area on the south bank, when one of our sentries returned, running at full speed, immediately swinging in to Nate, talking in hushed, agitated tones. At first, I was hoping for another unlooted truck—the week of everyone falling sick had reduced their numbers drastically, and so far we’d not dared come close enough to a larger city to hunt down a depot or factory—maybe with baby food this time? Hey, a girl could dream. But the increasing tension in the air as Pia and Andrej both joined in the discussion made me uneasy. Plus, the other guy who’d been doing recon—Innes—hadn’t come back, setting my teeth on edge. I was sure that if he’d been killed, Moore would have reported that.
 

By the time the huddle broke up, Nate had everyone’s attention, silence spreading across the entire group. He looked around us, his eyes briefly connecting with mine before he averted his gaze and addressed us at large.

“There’s another group ahead of us. Thirty strong, probably more as they’ve set up a camp and we didn’t get a good look inside. Innes and Moore got sloppy when they tried to back away and ran straight into their guards. They claim that they’re not hostile, but they want to talk to us. That’s why Innes is their guest right now.” He stressed “guest” enough to communicate that it hadn’t been his choice to stay.

Murmurs and looks were exchanged, but no one seemed particularly happy about this. After what had happened in Dresden, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the mere mention of other humans, strange as that might have sounded. Plus, if they were that many, they could easily overwhelm us in numbers.
 

“Moore said he was running as quickly as he could, but I don’t doubt that within minutes, they’ll be watching us, so running is only an option if we do it now. I don’t have to tell you what will happen to Innes if we do that.”

More murmurs rose, but when Burns spoke up, no one disagreed with him.

“If we have a chance to get him back, we won’t leave a man behind.”

Nate gave a curt nod, clearly having anticipated that remark.

“We’ll be cautious, and hope that our weapons will discourage them. They have some of their own but not quite our arsenal. Still—“ He trailed off there, and again his eyes deliberately sought me out. “Can you put your hair up under the cap? Or better, switch with Bates; the less they see of your face, the better.”

His order confused me, but I wordlessly handed my baseball cap to Bates and put his boonie hat on after stuffing my ponytail up over the crown of my head. While we were busy, he turned to Skip and Steve.

“I know that you can’t shoot for shit, but I still want you to carry guns. And look like you can use them.”

They were both handed two of the backup shotguns, fumbling until someone quietly instructed them how to hold them properly. With not a little amusement I realized that no one bothered with that with me, but then I’d racked up five confirmed kills with my trusty Mossberg so far. The second thigh holster—the knife now transferred to my left leg—for the Beretta wasn’t just for show, either. In short, I probably looked a lot better outfitted than either of the two even if someone had lent them a camo-patterned shirt.

“You two, keep in the middle,” he instructed our two noncombatants next, while shooing everyone in position around them. Looking at me a last time, he directed me over from where I’d lingered at Burns’s left side back to where our medic was bringing up the rear. “Stay close to Bates and Martinez. That way they’ll hopefully not notice that you’re a clear head shorter than most of us. Everybody, move out.”

With that, we set into motion, for the first time in ages without anyone ranging to the front or hanging back to spread out the bulk of our group. I really didn’t have a good feeling about this. Pia grabbed a dark scarf and pulled it over the lower half of her face, leaving just her nose and piercing eyes visible. With the wind carrying a fare share of dust with it, it might as well have been for something else than concealment.

“Do I want to know why we’re doing this?” I asked Martinez, the grip on my shotgun just a little sweaty.

Martinez sent me a long look, but then replied, if reluctantly. “Not having seen that camp, I can’t be sure, but I’d say that he has a very good reason why he wants us to look like we’re not easy bait and don’t have anything interesting to take from us.”

With a sinking feeling I realized that he wasn’t just referring to food with that.

It took us a good thirty minutes to make it to the crossroads Moore had indicated as the meeting point. It wasn’t even a proper cross as the other road was bridging ours overhead, leaving the group of men standing ready on top of the slope in clear advantage. As we drew closer, a few more joined them, equalizing our numbers with the clear message that there were likely even more of them hiding in the scarce trees on top of the slope. They looked about as dirty and ragged as us—still setting us apart from the shamblers, but they’d been living just as rough as we had. Faces were gaunt and looks grim, but they didn’t appear hostile outright. Innes stood between two of them who were holding ARs—and looking like they knew how to use them. He didn’t appear scared, but also not the least bit relaxed.

“Ho there, friends,” a guy next to the guards called out, going as far as raising a hand. Nate stopped and our entire group came to a halt, leaving just enough room between us to give everyone space to move. My fingers were sweaty enough that I yearned to switch my grip, but I refrained, lest anyone took it for nervous fidgeting.
 

Cutting right to the chase, Nate looked from the leader to Innes.

“I see that you’re still keeping one of ours,” he observed—not quite hostile, but his tone clearly conveyed that he wasn’t happy about the situation.

“Just a precaution,” the guy responded. “Been a while since we met anyone. It’s nice to get a chance to chat. Catch up on things, stuff like that, you know?”

The look on Nate’s face could have meant anything.

“We don’t really have anything to trade,” he offered. “Just tell us what it takes for you to let our man go, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh, we’re not holding anyone hostage,” the guy said, smiling—although the rope keeping Innes’s wrists secured together in front of his body was speaking plainly that he was lying through his teeth. “Maybe with the right incentive you’ll find something? You’re welcome to stay at our camp for a while.”

If he was trying to get a rise out of Nate, he had to work much harder, that was obvious.

“You said you have a camp? We have two tents that we don’t really need. You can have those.”

The leader weighed his options, but much to my surprise, he shook his head. “Nah, keep them. And as a token of our good faith, you can have your man back. But we’ll keep his gun and ammo. As a parting gift, you understand?”

Nate inclined his head. “Much obliged.”

I held my breath as Innes stumbled his way down the slope, just waiting for him to trip over a mine or fall into a pit. But he made it down safely, where Andrej lowered his rifle so he could cut through the bonds. Innes accepted the Glock that Andrej kept at his hip—leaving him with only two backup guns, as far as I knew—yet with the barrel lowered. Nate didn’t look as if he’d expected anything else, still at ease as if he’d been just out on a stroll.

“I really can’t tempt you?” the guy tried again. “Our camp’s as secure as they get. Even dug some trenches. We’re decent folks, you know? Just cautious. Have some women in the camp who we help protect. Don’t have to tell ya fellas that it can get awfully lonely on the road out there.”

And I highly doubted that said “protection” came without strings attached. Just like that, I had another reason why I was damn glad that I’d fallen in with this bunch of guys, and not someone else.

“I think we’ll have to decline,” Nate said after taking exactly five seconds to consider—although I didn’t think that he actually weighed his options. The leader scowled, until Burns cleared his throat.

“Been getting awfully familiar with my right hand these past weeks,” he offered with a brilliant smile. “Then again, it’s only been weeks. From my tours in Afghanistan and Iraq I’m still used to going months without pussy. Nope, I think I’ll manage awhile longer.”

I’d never thought it possible that a stupid remark from him could make me actually like him more rather than less.
 

The group up on the slope looked offended. “You guys all gay?” One of them called down, while another whisper-shouted, “Damn faggots.”

While none of the others ever passed up a chance to tease each other, or make Martinez the butt-end of a joke—and now even I was guilty of that—none of them opened their mouths.

“Well, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink,” the leader said, laying on the sadness a little heavily. I wondered if they were considering trying to—as if there weren’t enough sickening possibilities whirring around my head already.

Nate gave a somewhat exaggerated shrug. “We don’t do any protecting so I think it’s fair if we don’t reap the benefits.”

“Boss, not sure if that’s not just a huge load of BS,” one of the guys further down the line called out. I could practically feel his eyes burning into me, making me want to hunch my shoulders and slink a little closer to Bates. That he could ever feel like the one to valiantly defend my virtue had not seemed possible until a few moments ago. “Because that one over there has a mighty fine ass, and I’ve never found a boy any way attractive.”

The tension in the air shot up from one moment to the next, and the row up on the slope was only a hint quicker in raising their weapons than we were. Suddenly, all the times Pia had been drilling me into immediately falling into a defensive stance seemed a lot less ridiculous.

And it wasn’t Nate who replied this time, but the Ice Queen herself, her usually faint accent heavy enough to make her words slightly garbled.

“Just give me a reason to shoot off your cock. It’s been weeks since I got any precision shooting at really small targets.”

No one laughed, but from the corner of my eye I could see Burns’s lips quirk up. Assholes will be assholes.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Nate said, his words—if not his tone—trying to defuse the moment. “As you can clearly see, we carry enough firepower to blast you all into the stone-age. And trust me when I say that all of us are fucking surgeons at this distance, whether something dangles between our legs or not.”