Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak (34 page)

I’d almost given up hope that Nate would say anything more until he suddenly spoke up.

“Don’t be a hero. You know that heroes get killed.”

Not taking my eyes off the road as I continued to scan the fields surrounding it more than the gray lane, I couldn’t help but smile faintly.

“You told me that already, remember? More than once.”

“Because it’s a message that bears repeating,” he replied, annoyed with my teasing.

“Don’t worry. And shouldn’t you be more afraid that I’ll shoot her or something?”

That didn’t get me the snort I expected.

“Bree, I mean it. Do not risk your life for her.”

That sounded serious enough that I chanced a look at him. Nate’s eyes were boring into mine as he caught my gaze, and I looked away, and not just because I didn’t want to total the car out of stupidity. He would have bitched me out good if I had. No, it was that certain feeling of dread that settled into my stomach that made me snap my eyes back to the road. It might have sounded stupid, but realizing that he was actually afraid of losing me was another reminder of that conversation we’d had. What might have been a romantic gesture before was just another curveball that hit me hard now.

“I won’t.”

There was a lot I could have said that went further than that, but I knew that it was that promise he wanted from me, and, really, why waste words on anything else?

Chapter 22

We reached our destination maybe fifteen minutes later—the outskirts of what looked like every damn rural town all over the country. There were a few cars scattered on the streets, but with only homes and nothing noteworthy around, there hadn’t been any looting going on, it seemed. That still didn’t mean that it looked like it should have if nothing had ever happened. A month of weather and roaming zombies had left enough debris and disarray to make it clear at a glance that something wasn’t as it used to be.

I slowly turned the car around in the middle of the road and waited until Madeline had done the same before I got out, my shotgun at the ready, jacket closed tight at the neck. I let Nate take point, realizing that this time he wouldn’t have trusted my assessment if I’d gone on ahead. We quickly walked down a few houses toward the town center, then circled back, checking lawns and tool sheds as we passed them. Two of the houses were definitely not empty, but they were a block away from the car, and the faint rattling of the doors made me hopeful that the shamblers wouldn’t manage to get out in the short time it took for their attention to wander and make them quit.

I waited for Nate to hesitate as we got back to Madeline and her kids, to tell me one last time not to screw up, but he just gave me a look and a nod before he slid into the car and drove off, cautious to creep at a slow enough pace not to attract much attention. I was a little nervous as I scanned the open fields and lawns bordering them, but nothing moved. That left me with nothing better to do than lean against the trunk of the car and watch the clouds overhead streak by. The day had started out clear but we were definitely going to get rain later, maybe even a tornado if we were lucky. Never having lived anywhere further inland than the coastal regions, I had no idea whatsoever what would make the difference. Either way, it was still too hot to be comfortable standing out in the sun, but here was the best position to watch the most open ground.

A car door opened behind me and closed a few moments later, and I didn’t bother looking over to Madeline.

“Excuse me, but I need to get something,” she told me haughtily as she stepped up to me.

I was tempted to play dumb for a moment, but then just pushed away from the car to let her open the hatch. She rooted around in one of the bags until she found whatever she’d been looking for, but instead of returning to her seat, she remained standing next to me.

“It’s too hot to be out here in the open. The car is like a sauna,” she complained.

Turning my head, I regarded her levelly. “Nate told you to remain in the car?” She gave something that resembled an affirmative shrug. “Then you stay in the car.”

I didn’t just look away to hide a smirk at her glare; after all, I was keeping watch.

“It’s stifling hot in there. My kids are not feeling well,” she complained.

I was tempted to look inside because that display of emotion would be new, but if I could avoid seeing those empty eyes…

“They stay in the car, and you get back behind the wheel. No debate.”

Madeline’s jaws snapped shut, but at least she didn’t even try that pouting on me that always seemed to get her what she wanted from Bates and Santos.

“Very well. But it’s on you when they get sunstroke and puke all night long.” With that, she relented and slunk off, leaving me to gnash my teeth now. Why no one had strangled her yet was beyond me.
 

Five minutes went by, and nothing happened. Which, I guessed, was a good thing, but I couldn’t relax or let down my guard, and boredom can get mighty strenuous. It also left me with too much time to think, plotting ideas of how Madeline could easily dispose of me now if she just ran me over with the car. But we were on flat ground and I would both feel and hear the car start up, and there was no way that she’d manage to get the jump on me like that. Besides, killing me sounded a little beyond what I thought her capable of. Now, getting me gang-raped? Maybe. But not kill me.

The other car door opened, making me heave a silent sigh. Erica was a little more hesitant in approaching me than her mother had been, and I was surprised when she led with handing me a bottle of water.

“Here. I thought you’d get thirsty.” I accepted the bottle, but swished the water carefully in my mouth before I swallowed, immediately feeling stupid. It was just that, water—and why should Madeline send her kid out with a sugar-laced drink that would do the job just as well as any zombie bite? Besides, I wasn’t sure if she even realized that sodas could be just as deadly as sweet stuff. I made a note to remember to tell someone to ask her. Considering she only consumed what we fetched for her, it was the same. Of course, that led to the question where she should have acquired soda to kill me with in the first place—confirming just how ridiculous my thoughts were.

“Thanks,” I replied, ages too late. Erica was eyeing me quizzically already, but she smiled at my words.

“You’re welcome. After all, you’re protecting us.”

With her mother, I would have expected scorn, but she sounded rather neutral about it. I wondered if she’d already taken drama classes in school. She certainly was the better actress.

“What do you want?”

The way she widened her eyes was almost perfect, but just the fact that she reacted like that let me know that I had a right for my base level of suspicion.

“Can’t I just want to be nice?” she asked.

I looked at her for five seconds straight, before glancing back at the car. “Not in circumstances like this, no. You should have waited another ten minutes longer, maybe then.”

Her face crumbled, and it was hard not to grin. I refrained, because she didn’t deserve my scorn.

Instead of asking me how I’d made her—and I could tell that she was burning to know—she scrunched up her face, making me guess that it was real annoyance now that shone through.

“Why do you always have to be such a hardass?”

I shrugged, unfazed by the accusation in her voice. “Because I want to survive? And, believe it or not, I want the four of you to get through this unscathed, too.”

There was something in her eyes that told me that it was already way too late for that, but I didn’t ask. I was probably the last person she wanted to talk to.

Sighing, I shook my head, letting my eyes wander over the lawns that dearly needed mowing and the newspaper that was dancing across the street. “Why don’t you just tell me why she sent you out? Then I can tell you ‘no way,’ and you can slink back into the car. Probably beats standing guard with me.”

Erica hesitated, but eventually caved.

“Mom asked me to ask you why we can’t leave the car? There are trees just over there, in that garden. That’s just like twenty yards. Even Al can run that in ten seconds, and I can carry him, no problem. But it’s really hot in the car, and if we can’t even crank the windows—“

Martinez had made sure of that, disabling all the windows except the one on the driver’s side. Child proofing was an entirely new discipline these days.

I glanced at the trees in question, but shook my head. “No.”

“Why not?” she whined, for once sounding like a girl her age. “And what’s it to you, anyway? If we’re not in the car you can abandon us more easily. So you should be all for it.”

Her words got to me, but I forced myself to kill my guilt and remind myself that she was just trying to bait me.

“You’re staying in the car because Nate said so. It’s as easy as that.”

“Do you always follow orders blindly?” Erica scoffed. “And you still have the audacity to call yourself an independent woman?”

That got another glance from me. “You know, if you want people to not think you’re just parroting your mother, you should use words more appropriate for your age.”

“What, just because I’m thirteen I can’t know ‘audacious’? I’m the two-time spelling bee champion of my school district. You’re so lame,” she accused.

“I’m twice your age. Of course I’m lame,” I replied, unable to hide my grin. I couldn’t help but like her. She was smart, fierce, clearly not afraid of authority figures—what was not to love? Made me wonder how such a mother could raise such a child.

As if she’d read my mind, Erica cleared her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Seeing as you’re not getting in the car any time soon, you might as well.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, but she managed to suppress the grin before it stuck. “It’s cooler out here. And there’s the wind.” Like the rest of us, she was wearing pants with long legs and a jacket, but hers wasn’t even zipped up, flapping around her whenever the wind could grab it. I should probably have reprimanded her, but that seemed a little excessive to me.

“It’s only for an hour or two,” I promised. “By then, we’ll be back on the road.”

“Where it’s just as stifling and hot. The AC’s not working,” Erica complained. Martinez was likely to blame for that, too. Anything that would eat up fuel was something to avoid right now.

“It’ll likely cool down soon once the storm ramps up,” I replied. “Then you can complain that it’s too wet.”

“Sleeping in a tent when there’s cold water soaking into everything is no fun.”

“We’ll likely sleep in the cars tonight,” I offered. “Less of a hassle to break camp in the morning.”

“Is there anything you do that’s not practical?” she asked, still grumpy.

Giving her another long look, I shrugged. “There’s not really an alternative, you know?”

“But you don’t always have to be that stuck-up,” she complained. “Even in times of need, there’s always room for comfort.”

“Is that what your mom is telling you?” I stopped there, although what I really wanted to ask her was whether she thought that what her mother was doing had anything to do with comfort. I could tell that the message was received, though, Erica’s face scrunching up again.

“Why do you always have to bitch at her? Do you really think you’re making it any easier by not only making her do all the work, but being all uppity about it?”

Just like that, she negated any common ground she’d carved out with me so far.
 

“She does all the work, eh? What work would that be, exactly?” I was probably going to hell making the poor girl answer that, but she’d started it. Erica remained silent, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. But the look in her eyes was still defiant, and I just couldn’t let that go. “Does she wash everyone’s clothes? No. Does she cook? No, because we’re still mostly eating from cans, and the few times we’ve had something to warm up, everyone did so themselves on the camping cookers. She doesn’t help with camp, and all she ever does is bitch about the things we bring back from our loot runs. So, please, enlighten me. What exactly does your mother do that constitutes ‘all the work’?”

Her bottom lip continued to quiver, and when she finally answered, it came out as a pressed whisper.

“What exactly is your problem? It’s not like she’s done anything to you.”

“No, she just tries to convince everyone that because she whores herself out, every other woman has to do it, too.”

Erica looked stricken that I’d actually said that out loud, but rather than break down, defiance shone in her eyes.

“You have no idea how it was in that camp! You don’t know what—“ She cut off there, her voice going up an octave. Guilt clogged my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down.

“You are right. I don’t know. But what I do know is that things are different here. With all our faults, they’re good guys. They’d never force her to do anything she didn’t want to, or even expect it.” I paused, but then added, “And the same goes for you, too.”

She looked up from where she’d been dragging her sneaker across the asphalt, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I wondered if I should have hugged her, but she didn’t look like she wanted any unwarranted contact. I couldn’t hold that against her. Not at all.

I didn’t expect her to reply, and she didn’t, instead staring off toward the town. I should probably have shooed her into the car now, but if she felt like she needed some air to breathe—and not just because of the stifling heat inside—who was I to tell her no?

“Will it always be like this?” Erica asked, a full five minutes later.

“Like what? Always on the road, always running?” She nodded. I thought about that for a bit, but all I could do was shrug. “Probably not. I mean, there will always be that, but I don’t think it will be all there is. We already know that we’re not the only survivors, and there must be many, many more. They’re likely still hiding in their houses.” Thinking about Gerry and Maude gave me a brief ache in my chest. “Eventually, they’ll come out. They’ll find others just like them. They’ll band together, start a new town, maybe. Or some other kind of community. This year we’ll easily get through the winter with what we can scavenge, but next year we’ll have to start farming, one way or another. And someone will know how to do it by hand, even without looking it up on Wikipedia first.” That, at least, got a small smile from her.