Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak (16 page)

“But you think we’re not going to be able to do that?”

Nate gave me the hint of a nod after a moment of deliberation. I didn’t ask, and not just because he seemed reluctant to answer.

“So what’s in Wyoming, besides grass and mountains and pretty much nothing else?”

“Exactly that,” he agreed with me. “People there are used to being self-sufficient, so we’ll likely have a better chance of finding anything useful if we have to resort to looting only. And we have a bunker there.”

With anyone else, statements like that would have made me do a double-take, but it was Nate we were talking about here.

“Of course you do,” I replied instead. He flashed me another grin, underlining that he’d really been serious. “You mean like an actual, honest-to-God bunker? With some weird-as-shit prepper stuff bunkered inside?”

“You just wolfed down a bag of frozen peas without batting an eyelash. How crazy do dehydrated, complete meals sound to you where you just need to add water, and you get the whole steaming, delicious deal?”

“I think I’m not even kidding or elaborating when I say that I’d kill for that,” I replied, not really liking the fatalistic tone of my voice.

“Another month or so and you’ll actually mean it,” Nate agreed—of course without a hint of humor in his voice. Then again, let’s face it—he was likely the guy who’d teach me how to do it, too.

“But you could have set that up anywhere in the country,” I supposed. “I get why you wouldn’t do it five miles outside of D.C., but there’s still several states that are just corn fields and cows between here and Wyoming.” Pausing, something else occurred to me that I must have picked up while watching late-night TV. “And why set up a bunker so close to Yellowstone? Weren’t you afraid about the super volcano, or something?”

Now I got that look that told me clearly that he was disappointed that I even had to ask about that.

“I was never afraid that the monster tsunami would wash me into the ocean, either.”

“There’s still the entire range of the Rockies between the ocean and your little hideout,” I said.

“But you have a point,” Nate conceded. “A lot of preppers don’t like the region because there are military installations close that might become targets. And Mount St. Helens.”

Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but continue to find the very idea ridiculous—until suddenly, it wasn’t anymore.

“Did you actually plan for—“

He interrupted me before I could get any further, the look on his face a twisted mix of resignation and annoyance.

“Of course we didn’t. It was set up as a shelter for a few people for a couple of weeks. Somewhere to stash our families and loved ones should a hot war on American soil break out. Much more likely, a quirky summer vacation spot to get away from the insanity of the rest of the country, and where the local Sheriff would likely accept a six-pack of beer for bribes or join in the fun if he found us doing some recreational tactical training.” Whatever that might be. “Honestly, I never actually thought I’d ever be on the run from anyone or anything that I’d need to get there. But considering what is going on right now, it’s our best bet for making it through the winter.”

His reply eased the paranoid fear inside of me a little, but I couldn’t help but feel like it still took a very special kind of people to set something like that up. And tagging along with that kind of people was the only reason why I was still alive.

“So even if we find something on the way there, we won’t stop?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“Someone else’s bug-out bunker?” I suggested.

Nate looked amused by the idea, but not in a belligerent way.

“First off, the chances are extremely slim that we would stumble over something that was already set up. More likely would be something that we could convert into a shelter.” He paused, thinking that through for a moment. “I’m not saying I want to stay in that bunker forever. Actually, the thought of being there for the entire winter already gives me the creeps. Maybe next year we’ll set out to find something else. Something that can accommodate more than ten people easily, or up to thirty if we have to make it work. Then again, do we want to stay anywhere with a larger group? There are more questions to consider than obvious practicality and short-term survival.”

I had to admit, until now I hadn’t spent a single moment thinking about that. Just getting somewhere safe had already sounded like a Herculean task.

“You think we’ll make it there?” I asked—a much easier question.

Nate hesitated before he replied, but he did it with a nod. “Not all of us. And very likely not without having to make a whole slew of hard decisions and sacrifices. But yes, I think that we’ll make it.”

Since considering the alternative wasn’t an option, I was ready to believe him.

Chapter 11

I used the next hours to catch up on some much needed sleep. What I should have done instead was sort out my pack and tape up my feet.

When gunshots coming from outside the building made me startle and dive behind the counter, I knew that our time of respite was up.
 

Not bothering with finding an entrance that was unlocked, Pia and the two men following her busted up the glass windows at the side of the cafeteria, climbing in as soon as they’d cleared away enough slivers not to cut them up too much. One of the guys was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder, and when she turned around, I saw that the—new?—bulletproof vest that Pia was wearing had several holes in the back where the plating shone through the material. If there’d ever been a reason to get alarmed instantly, that was one.

The fact that they’d headed out as a group of five was another.

Nate was on his feet, striding over to her, before I had even fully realized what was going on.

“Status?”

“We need to get out,” she replied, a little winded. Wincing, she arched her back, but didn’t take off the vest. “Call back the others. We need to be gone as quickly as possible,” she told one of the guys who’d started stowing away the load of weapons and magazines that the three had brought back with them.

“What about Aimes and Turek?” She silently shook her head, making it clear that they others wouldn’t be coming back. “Zombies?”

“Ambush,” she bit out. “They watched us raid two broken-down police cruisers at the main intersection in town, but the moment we were clear of cover, they gunned us down. No idea of their numbers, but they had it all perfectly planned out. We need to be gone by the time they decide we might have something worth pursuing here. The shots alerted the shamblers, so we might have enough time to get away until they clear up again, but that still leaves us to deal with them.”

Nate nodded, and Pia ducked away to get her own pack. The sound of running footsteps approaching made me jump, but it was only the remainder of our people who were lugging back what they’d found.

“Why would anyone shoot at us when we’re clearly not zombies?” I asked. While not all of them were covered in gore, their mindless rage—or general mindless stares—were a dead giveaway, pun intended.

Shouldering his own pack, Nate gave me a look that held way too much pity for the occasion.

“Just because we’re not dead yet doesn’t mean they don’t prefer us that way. Get used to the idea—not everyone out there is looking for company.”

Exhaling forcefully, I tried to quell the horror that message brought with it—and not for the first time I felt like my two bats were entirely inadequate for personal protection. Starting for my own pack, I halted when I realized I’d forgotten something, but Andrej was already there, holding the backpack up so I could easier slide my arms into the straps—much quicker, too.

“Wait. I still need to get something,” I started, but Nate cut me off before I could step around him.

“Like what?”

“Uhm,” I started, then just said it, because we were clearly in a hurry. “Toilet paper.”

The look on his face was so incredulous that I already knew that it was a lost cause.

“Wiping your ass in comfort is really worth risking your life over?” he asked, turning away to start shooing everyone out. “Priorities, Bree. I think you need to reevaluate yours.”

Grumbling under my breath, I finished snapping the backpack in place, quickly catching up to the others where they were almost done wrapping up breaking camp. Nate was smiling faintly at my huffing and puffing, but as I caught up with them, he turned to Andrej, who was busy inspecting one of the new shotguns that Pia had brought with her. “Remind me that the next time we get a chance, I start teaching her how to clean a gun.”

“Will do, boss,” Andrej replied, sounding way too eager for the occasion.

“Do I get to have a say in that, too?” I asked, glaring at Nate when he looked at me again. It wasn’t that I was opposed to the idea—on the contrary—but I was standing right there, next to them.

“Not really,” he replied succinctly, already turning away.

“And you really want to give me a loaded gun and walk behind you with that attitude?” I called after him, making him stop for a second.

“Always,” was his reply. If anything, the smile he was beaming at me had widened. But that was all the attention that I got for now, which I didn’t mind as Pia gave the comment to set out. We left the school through the back entrance, simply shooting the lock off with a shotgun. The racket was deafening, and the moment the door was open, Pia hollered at us to run for the trees next to the track that I could see across the parking lot. We took off as one disjointed huddle, quickly spreading out due to our different levels of fitness and tactical decisions I wasn’t privy to. At the trees, we waited for everyone to follow, but already I was itching to move on when I saw the first zombies round the corner of the building, drawn to the origin of the gunshot.

“Which way?” Nate asked Pia. Normally, it was his or Andrej’s decision, but she had been the one to lead the team who’d explored the territory.

“North, following the river,” she said, already setting out at a brisk pace now that Steve had trundled in behind me and Andrej. “The obvious way out for us is back across the bridge and south of town. They will lay in wait for us along that road. If we cut around to the east and north, we’ll be gone by the time they realize that we ran that way.”

And off we went.

After days of mostly sticking to roads for convenience, it sucked to be back wading through the thick undergrowth of the forest. Through the cover of the trees, I could just make out the buildings of the village, a little miffed that I didn’t see that famous basket Dresden had been renowned for—or not. About a mile along the river, a smaller stream joined in, and we continued to follow that instead. I would have preferred to put more space between us and the people who had already killed two of our group, but no one asked me.

There were a few zombies lurking around the backyards and fields between the forest and the town, but nothing we hadn’t encountered before. Those at the school didn’t manage to catch up to us, or had found more interesting targets elsewhere—one could only hope. About half an hour into our flight, it started to rain, which turned into a veritable downpour. Slogging along through the mud and wet leaves didn’t improve my mood, but it came with a clear advantage—by the time we had to leave the trees behind and cross the two streets leaving Dresden to the north, visibility had turned so bad that I didn’t even see the first people of our group anymore. We switched onto the smaller road that branched off from the second to head west again, soon leaving civilization behind. When the road started running parallel to train tracks, we switched to those, and at the first sign of houses of the next town, we cut through the fields due north. The sight of a highway ahead made me panic for a moment, but it was almost deserted, with only a few cars left abandoned, the odd shambler between them. They never saw us as we made it across safely due to a road crossing overhead, and then we were back in the nowhere land of Ohio.

It was hours after full dark when we finally made camp, huddling together under a group of oak trees that let barely any of the rain through. Between us, we ate the granola—unsweetened—that we’d taken from the cafeteria, and Martinez got busy bandaging the wounds that the team that had gone into town had brought back. Even with the newly-liberated bulletproof vest, Pia had two shallow wounds where the bullets had barely penetrated, and half of her back had turned black and blue from the bruises of where they hadn’t. It certainly served as a good reminder to me that knowledge gained from watching movies didn’t hold up in the real world.

Thankfully, both Nate and Andrej didn’t think that—tired, cold, and scared—I was in the best position for my first “how not to shoot myself in the foot” lesson in handgun maintenance, and I got to fall asleep with a few grains of granola still stuck in my teeth.

Chapter 12

The moment I woke up—bolted awake was more like it—I knew that today would be even worse. It hadn’t stopped raining during the night and even through my clothes I could feel the clammy cold. My joints were stiff and my muscles ached, and when I slinked away from the heap of bodies that hadn’t really kept me warm at night, I realized that there was another aspect to what exactly might turn this day into a bad day—I’d gotten my period overnight. And let’s just say that toilet paper wasn’t the only thing I was lacking.

Shit.

I still had half a pack of tissues from one of our looting expeditions, but that was it. How I could have forgotten about this was beyond me, but now that the more or less inevitable had arrived, I couldn’t even find it in me to be happy about the fact that I wasn’t about to horribly die in childbirth eight months down the road—and considering what Nate and I had been up to before the shit hit the fan, I should at least have spent a minute worrying about that. But it was so typical that, even with everything else going on, I was still haunted by the one problem every woman knew all too well—being stuck somewhere without a tampon.

While the granola tub was making its rounds and was consequently finished off in record time, I was wrecking my brain about what to do, but there was really no sense to this. Yet when I approached Pia where Martinez was checking on her bandages, I couldn’t help but feel a different kind of ennui spread, darkening my already not too bright mood. I knew that—realistically—it was stupid to think of her as invincible, particularly after what had happened to Nate with the rebar, but somehow her constant stoicism about our situation had made me put faith in her that was severely shaken up now. She’d always been the first up, the one to kick us into gears, making sure that everyone knew what to do and that we were pulling our weight. And now she was sitting on a wet stone, hunched over, whimpering with pain as Martinez reapplied the bandages, wrapping them as tightly around her torso as possible. Before, she’d looked lithe and powerful to me—and now she was just a woman with lots of muscle but increasingly less subcutaneous fat on her body as lack of proper nutrition took its toll on her. Suddenly, she was small, insignificant, vulnerable. And I was about to make it worse with my inane hunt for female hygiene products.