Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction (24 page)

“Thought I recognized your car, Pretty Boy,” she called, blinking coquettishly behind her heart-shaped sunglasses. The name made me smile. “Pretty” was not an attribute I’d have assigned to the grizzly ex-militia man next to me.

“Miss Lola,” Jason greeted her, tipping his imaginary hat, a bright grin splitting his face in two. “Jaymie, Nikki, may I present my friends. This is Bree, Burns, and Martinez. I presume the guys have first names, too, but I’ve yet to hear anyone use ‘em. Folks, this is our very own cheer squad.”

Lola’s smile widened, now encompassing us, too. “We prefer the monicker ‘The Girls,’ plain and simple. Don’t let Pretty Boy here tell you otherwise.”

“Or we’ll shoot you,” the pale, dark-haired woman to her left said, nodding at the paint-stained paintball gun leaning against her leg.

“We might just do it even if you don’t,” the third added, her smile brightening as her eyes skipped from the guys to me. “First time here?”

I nodded, unable not to grin right back at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her smile turned lopsided. “You better stop that right there or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you, missy.”

Burns gave a sound that was too close to a strangled laugh for his own good while I just kept grinning at her. “Meow.”

Lola smacked her lips, accompanied by a theatrical eye-roll. “Oh, you two get a room! Shouldn’t be too hard this time of the day. Lorrie’s doesn’t fill up until later in the afternoon, usually.”

The minx next to her laughed. “I have my own cozy little house, thanks, bitch.” Her eyes skipped back to me. “Wanna see? I’m Jaymie, by the way. Pretty Boy does shitty introductions.”

I didn’t think she was serious with her offer, and I couldn’t help but laugh at just how awkward flirting with her made me feel.

Before I could answer—and mortally embarrass myself—Burns took over.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that one’s practically married.”

Jaymie drew a brief pout but already her smile was breaking through again, while Nikki, the girl with the paintball gun, asked, “Any of you fine gentlemen looking for a fun time? Not you, Pretty Boy. We know that you’re itching to see your sweetheart again.”

Jason laughed as he turned to me, explaining. “She means Ruth. She’s in charge of the bunkers. Old hatchet of a woman, but better not tell her I said so. I’ll have to introduce you later. She’s quite something. If you need any weapon mods, she's the woman to see.”

Behind Jason, I could see that Burns was definitely considering whether Nikki’s offer was a genuine one. He clapped Martinez on the shoulder, hard enough to make our medic stagger. “This fine fellow here’s batting for the other team, but I’m all yours, babe.”

Martinez chuckled at my groan, but cheesy as it was, the line seemed to work, judging from the once-over Nikki gave Burns. “Why don’t you take me for a beer first, tall fella? Then we’ll see if I can show you a good time.” As far as their wisecracks went, those two were a match made in heaven.

As she got up, Burns gave me a look that was awfully close to asking for permission, making me wonder if Nate had ordered him and Martinez to keep an eye on me. I gave him a deadpan stare before I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Go! I’m sure I can get lost all on my own, without you trudging behind me all the time. The base isn’t that large. I’ll find my way back to the cars eventually.”

“Sure thing,” Burns chuffed, then offered Nikki his arm, making the rest of us howl with laughter. With her flip-flops, her head barely reached up to his shoulder, making them quite the odd pair as they marched off toward what Candy had described as the mess hall tents.

A nudge on my thigh made me look back to Jaymie, where her neon purple painted toes splayed against my cargo pants. The polish was the exact shade of her purple halter-neck top and the headband that held her brown hair back. With the dark shades and the high-waisted hotpants, she was the epitome of a sixties glam doll. “‘Practically married’ isn’t quite hitched, you know?” she said, pitching her already throaty alto deeper. “After months on the road, doesn’t a little variety sound like a pleasant change from the ever same monotony?”

I felt my cheeks heat up just a little, but that could have been the sun. Sure, it certainly was the sun. Martinez chuckled again, earning himself a glare from me that he ignored.

Clearing my throat, I looked back to Jaymie, who was still waiting for my answer. “Not saying I’m not tempted, particularly after the stunt my other half just pulled, but I have to spend every day sitting right next to that ungrateful bastard. I don’t need to exacerbate our constant bitching by actually giving him something to bitch about.” Her pout returned, making me laugh. Shit, it felt good to just goof around like this again. “But I might take you up on that offer if he keeps behaving like an asshole. Just saying.”

That got me a dazzling smile from her. “My evening’s all free. Come and find me if you change your mind.” Reaching down, she picked up her long drink glass—complete with a fru-fru cocktail umbrella—and took a drag from the straw that was bordering on pornographic. And damn my fucking hormones for responding to that, even if I didn’t want to. Not entirely, at least. Okay, maybe a little. Her smile brightened, clearly realizing what effect she had on me, but her tone returned to the jovial drawl from before. “Oh, by the way, you should say hi to my sister. She keeps chattering about how awesome you are and how much she loves your conversations. I’m sure she’ll bust an ovary if she gets to meet you face to face.”

“Your sister?” I asked, confused.

“Tamara,” Jaymie replied, nodding toward what used to be the base tower. “Daytime operator on the radio. She has a mean girl crush on you, which makes no sense whatsoever, seeing as she doesn’t appreciate the ladies as I do. Well, for you she might make an exception.”

I couldn’t help but look down at what I was wearing, every single piece of equipment chosen for utility, and somewhat stained and scuffed after months of use.

“Yeah, I’m quite the looker,” I hedged, laughing when she gave me a little leer. “As I said, I’ll let you know. Later.”

My stomach growled as if on command, giving me a very good reason to beat it. Jason tried to hide the grin that seemed to want to take over his face, but Martinez didn’t bother.

“See you later, ladies,” he called to them as we turned away.

“You bet, sweet cheeks!” Lola replied, adding another cat-call whistle as she sent us on our way.

Jason continued to eye me as we went on, until I sighed and asked, somewhat exasperated, “What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just sayin’, first time I saw Jaymie go after anyone like that. She’s usually all taunts only, flaunting what no one can ever have. Seems like she’s ready to make an exception for you.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, so I left it at a shrug. “She’s got good taste. Can’t fault her for that.”

Jason’s laugh was loud enough that I was sure the girls still caught it. When I glanced back over my shoulder, I got a bright smile from Lola, and Jaymie blew me a kiss. Ah well.

Jason didn’t seem to have any problems with playing tour guide for Martinez and me. We dropped by the mess hall first, treating ourselves to some veggie stir fry that was handed out on cardboard plates with plastic forks. At my curious look Jason explained that earlier in the spring, one scavenger group had plundered a catering business depot, loading the trucks full and lugging an insane heap of disposable plates over to Dispatch. With running, hot water still a commodity, it was a good short-term solution, and quite the luxury after a year of using our aluminum field equipment. While last fall the guys had been happy to go carnivorous for a few weeks when hunting got feasible with our bunker base, over the winter we’d slowly run out of what little preserves we’d managed to accumulate, making vegetables a new treat. As well-organized as Dispatch seemed, even with chaos reigning everywhere, they likely had their own fields, or else people who supplied the food from elsewhere. Cooking on the road was possible but often not something we did, for various reasons, making hot, fresh food even more of a delicacy than before. And here we didn’t even have scared settlers brandishing their pitchforks at us.
 

I could so get used to this.

After we’d filled ourselves to the gills, we walked over to the markets and the open stalls of what Candy had referred to as the bazaar. I couldn’t see much of a difference between the two, but Jason insisted that it existed. Every single table and stall was overbrimming with goods, ranging from clothes to food, weapons, batteries, tools, and a lot of handmade stuff. In a world where everything was free for the taking it might have seemed peculiar to have a trade system in place, but as I walked from stall to stall, idly browsing the wares, I soon realized that even we, after already raiding a mall and countless small towns, were lacking a lot of things that
Before
would have been considered bare essentials.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” I told Jason as he waited for us after making it through the first row of stalls. “And neither do you,” I added to Martinez.

“Got nothing better to do,” Jason confided. “But if you want to peruse the goods on your own, we can meet up again in an hour. Still got to show you the rest.”

So it came that, five minutes later, I was on my own, losing Martinez to a display of guitars and other musical instruments. Who’d have thought that our medic—who couldn’t sing worth shit—was a veritable virtuoso on the acoustic guitar? And while I might have ragged on him for wanting to pick up something that wasn’t exactly a versatile weapon, I could see why he’d never let on that he could play. When survival was all that counted, whimsical hobbies like that had to take a backseat. But now, with the cars, we each had a little space to call our own, for more than weapons, ammo, and a spare set of gear.

Unlike with the scavengers camped out on the runway, the crowd here was an almost equal mix of males and females. Everyone was armed, but it was easy to pick up the scavengers by their more utilitarian gear, compared to shorts, skirts, and sneakers on what I presumed were the residents. As I kept weaving through the crowd, picking up snippets of conversation here and there, I realized that Dispatch was a lot closer to what used to be civilization than the settlements were—at least what we’d seen so far. At first, I’d been tempted to think that the residents here were mostly split up into two groups—whores and guards—but that was plain wrong. There was trade going on everywhere, and not just of wares. Within minutes I saw people offering every skill imaginable, from seamstresses to cooks, leather workers to smiths, carpenters to painters. Anything that could be built or fabricated by hand was on sale, signs displaying how many weeks work on commission would take. A new sheath for a knife, upholstery for car seats, the odd tailored windbreaker—everything was for sale. But also barbers to take care of a much-needed haircut that wasn’t just your buddy butchering your ‘do with a knife; nurses and doctors treating the odd sprain or sore tooth. I even saw a nail salon, all of the girls in the stall busy—less with painting nails and doing gel fillers, but taking care of ingrown nails and small injuries that didn’t quite require a nurse, but needed to be taken care of nevertheless. I was tempted to treat myself to some pampering, but if I was honest, the idea of a stranger touching me while I was surrounded by yet more strangers didn’t quite make me feel all warm and cozy.
 

Besides, with only the clothes on my back and my weapons with me, I could hardly pay for it.

For about half an hour I did really good about keeping my hands to myself, and far enough away from the stalls to draw anyone’s attention. It was easy to blend in as, contrary to when we were out in the field and I looked like a small, scrawny doll next to the guys, even in full gear, here there were a lot of women, even those obviously not from Dispatch. I figured they must be traders. Jason had mentioned that since winter, a few trade routes had started to establish themselves. That’s how the different settlements kept in touch with each other. Apparently the traders were considered safer than us scavengers, even if they couldn’t usually get their hands on the exclusive stuff. Still a dangerous life, but probably better suited for people with families who didn’t feel like being part of a settlement. I felt a hint of resentment come up inside of me at the idea that while we did the heavy lifting, they got the open doors, but I knew that it was nonsense—and bred from the very same prejudice that I’d ranted about to the people in Harristown.

It was a small stall in the middle of a row that finally made me stop, my mouth watering at the display of food. All baked goods, and most of them sweet, judging from the scent perfuming the air. My mind immediately slammed into danger mode, but even knowing that anything sweet could be contaminated wasn’t enough to make me walk on. There were plenty of people eating the cakes and pastries, and I was sure that whoever had made them knew how not to turn their entire clientele into an undead menace.
 

Nate would likely have laughed his ass off at me salivating over sweets like this, but then he had the better reason to stay well clear of anything that might be contaminated. I would simply die, a debatable outcome for a mouthful of bliss. Even should I return as one of the walking undead, it wouldn’t be for some time after getting infected. He, on the other hand, would likely kill half our group if he insta-converted, nothing shy of a direct head shot stopping him. But Nate wasn’t here, and my spiteful side considered that it would serve him right to have to shoot me before I turned because of that asshole order of his. The whorehouse, seriously?