Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction (3 page)

I hadn’t expected New Town to look like much, but the three rows of chain-link, barbwire-topped fence with wooden palisades inside that kept the settlement itself out of sight was a lot more impressive than the already good defenses Aurora’d had. They’d even started digging ditches between the fences, making scaling them harder still.
 

As we approached, I saw no one outside, but the two lookouts above the gate box had been eyeing us the entire time of our approach. I’d debated radioing ahead, but the light cloud of dust that our cars raised was different from anything else moving out there, and the cows were kind of a dead giveaway, too. I still switched on the transponder on our radio when we were about a mile out, the red light coming on a distraction I didn’t need. A sidelong glance at Nate revealed that he had that same stony look on his face that I’d last seen as we’d left Aurora, Kansas, two weeks ago. We’d hit several targets in the meantime, but this was the first settlement that we approached. There were seven between Kansas, Iowa, and Missouri that we knew of, and until the cattle job none of them had given us any incentive to come any closer, hygiene-related wish-fulfillment aside.

Static cracked over the radio before an unfamiliar voice came on, laced with a soft mid-western accent.

“Convoy approaching, please identify yourself, and state your business.”

I found that oddly formal, but what did I know? Reaching for the mic, I pushed the button to engage it and rattled off the details. “Lucky Thirteen, code three-nine-seven-five-zulu. Thirteen Alpha pilot speaking, Bree Lewis. Heard you were looking for cows?”

There was some movement going on up at the palisade, but no one made a move to open the outer gate of what I expected was a similar two-tier mechanism as they’d had in Aurora—letting one vehicle in at a time, creating a kill chute between the two gates to make sure that no shamblers could gain access alongside.
 

The radio gave another squeak that made me grimace. “Can you repeat that?” the voice asked.

“Which part? That we’re the five cars right outside your gate? Or that we have your cows, tied to said cars?”

More silence followed. “Your code.”

I looked at Nate, but he gave me nothing. Apparently, he was still deadly serious about that part where I was dealing with all civilian matters. I really didn’t like where this was going, but still rattled off the number again. When after another pause that I guessed was several people debating the voice came on and wanted to know, “How many?” I figured he wasn’t asking about the cows. Nate’s knuckles went white for a second as he cracked them.
 

“Six.”

As expected, the following silence was even longer now, making me gnash my teeth. So much for this glorious new civilization acting civilized.

“We can’t let you in,” the voice replied, sounding small now.

“Come again?” Even if I’d tried, I couldn’t have kept the sharpness out of my voice. “You know, those papers that your settlement signed to belong to this fucking great new alliance? We signed them, too. You’re obliged to let us in.” That, and more, but with my dream of bathing slipping away like water through fingers scooping it up, I wasn’t going to haggle about the details.

The voice sounded sincerely apologetic but not exactly sad as it came on again. “We would, normally. But we already have two groups in here. They brought cows, too. We don’t need any more.”

This was getting better and better. “When did they get here?”

“Yesterday,” the guy admitted.

Screwing my eyes shut, I debated screaming, but seeing as that would get me nowhere…

“Are you fucking kidding me? We signed in with Dispatch this morning. You were still looking for cows then. And now you tell me that we risked our lives for nothing, because you were too fucking stupid to cancel your order?”

Nate gave me a smile that was as sweet as they got. “I love it when you get all diplomatic.”

I didn’t know who to be more angry at, him or these idiots, but after hitting the steering wheel twice, I forced myself to assume a semblance of calm.

“Will you at least take the cows? You can have them if you give us something to eat.” Somehow I got the feeling that I was doing this bartering thing wrong. Next I would be begging them to let us play fetch for everyone.

“We don’t need them,” the guy repeated. “And we don’t have much food to spare.”

Glaring at the palisades didn’t help, and neither did Nate’s smirk.

“Well, what did you feed those other two scavenger groups?”

Another pause, this one long enough to make me want to reach for the box of grenades that we kept in the back row and lob a few over the wire fences.

“Beef stew,” came the eventual answer.

“And is there still some left of that? Or, you know, you could just slaughter one of your fucking cows if you get three more now, anyway.” I’d intended to warn them that we’d drugged the cows with ketamine, but considering the circumstances, I was happy to get someone really sleepy if they were unlucky.

“Some.” This time, the pause was shorter. “We’ll send someone out with a pot, if you have something to store the stew in? Don’t stay here.”

“And the cows?” When I didn’t get a reply straight away, I added, “I swear to you, if you don’t take the damn cows inside, we’re going to slaughter them right in front of your gate. Less than an hour away the hills are swarming with zombies. We had to sacrifice one cow to get away. They’ll smell the carcasses and be here before nightfall. Even if they don’t tear down your flimsy little excuse for a barricade, they’ll squat here for days, if not weeks. And for every single one you shoot, ten more will come. Just consider how fucking long you’ll be stuck with your scavengers then?”

Surprisingly, that got him talking.

“Don’t do that! Jesus Christ, you fuckers really are all insane!” Someone grumbled something in the background, and a moment later the guy was back on. “We’ll take the cows. Just sent someone running to get the stew, but it’s mostly veggies and potatoes. Some bread, too, but we don’t have much left from lunch.”

Exhaling slowly, I allowed myself to ease up a little, although I wasn’t beyond seeing Nate’s smirk deepen. Asshole.

“Veggies sound good actually. Meat we can easily just grill ourselves. Cook, not so much. Bread’s awesome.”

So it came to be that after an endless twenty minutes of waiting, the gate opened and ten weary-looking men, armed to the teeth, exited. I’d gotten tired of waiting in the car about twenty hours ago so I was standing next to my door, watching them approach. They eyed us as cautiously as if we’d had zombies chained up rather than cattle, and when the one that approached us saw the dark marks in the shapes of three Xs on Nate’s and Pia’s necks, he blanched visibly. Only after I’d pointedly turned around and showed him that I only had one X across my neck he seemed to find his voice again. It was the guy from the radio.

“We’ll take the cows in. You can come with us to fetch the stew. Only you.”

I stared right back at him, not moving a muscle. If he thought I was less dangerous than some of my companions, he deserved to get his dick chewed off by zombies. Sure, I wouldn’t rise as one of the super fast, insanely durable undead if someone gunned me down, and I might not be able to continue walking for two days after I got speared by a rebar, but the shotgun in my hands wasn’t just for show. I could see that realization dawn on him as he kept studying me—combat boots, tactical cargo pants, jacket, orange-tinted shooting glasses, hair tied securely out of my face to make sure that my vanity wouldn’t be the end of me. That I was the only one left with long hair since Bates had bit the dust was one concession I wasn’t going to let go, faded pinkish-red ends notwithstanding. And as long as I didn’t stand right next to Burns, I didn’t look that much shorter than the others.

My silence had apparently been answer enough because the guy continued to fidget while five others went to fetch the cows.

“I take it that’s a no?”

“That’s a 'how stupid do you think I am?' no,” I confirmed his guess.

His gaze dropped down to my shotgun, then over to the cows. It was nice that, for once, someone was taking me seriously. I didn’t tell him that I had no intention whatsoever to lock them all in their little settlement—but their open hostility and mistrust was gnawing on me. I hadn’t exactly expected to be welcomed with open arms, but this went a little far.

“We’ll do the exchange at the gate then,” he relented when I continued to stare at him. I hadn’t thought that would work—it never did on the guys—but far was it from me to complain.

“Thanks,” I offered, even though I didn’t feel very thankful. The reserves of nuts and jerky that we had with us, raided from that mall, suddenly didn’t sound all that monotonous anymore. It still bothered me. We would only be able to go on canned food for so long, and on the road we had no chance to grow something for ourselves. We might be able to get some fresh fruit from trees, but I didn’t expect many vegetable patches to exist a few years from now.

The cows proved to be docile enough, following along as they were herded through the gate. I wondered if they had been following us because we’d led them away from the stink of decay. They must have learned to keep away from that to survive. But what had they been doing in an area so infested with zombies that they had ran straight into the same trap I’d accidentally followed them into? The occasional lone shambler couldn’t be much of a match for a cow herd, but the tracks we had seen spoke of a thousand easily—enough to overwhelm anything still up and running on this planet.

Nervous Guy and four of the other armed men remained with us, their backs to the gate, continuing to eye us cautiously. There was enough posing happening on on both sides, but I didn’t feel like telling the guys how ridiculous they looked. Finally, the outer gate opened again, admitting two of the cattle herders returning, one carrying a huge pot, the other a large basket full of bread and rolls. My mouth instantly watered but I forced myself to curb my enthusiasm. Martinez and Clark took it upon themselves to liberate them of their burden. After stowing away most of the bread and one of the two pots they’d transferred the stew into, they started distributing the aluminum cups that we ate most of our meals out of, whatever the consistency. Nate brought me mine, topped with a chunk of bread. The second half of it had already disappeared in his mouth. So much for him appearing uncaring about the food. One glance at Nervous Guy and he turned back around, leaning against the Jeep next to Andrej.

I dug in, not caring with manners like using cutlery. The stew wasn’t too thick but nicely spiced, the texture of the ingredients enough to make me moan happily. I could easily do without people—but food? Fresh, warm, multi-ingredient food? I’d never thought that would become the commodity it was.

“You don’t look like you’re starving,” Nervous Guy observed, a little puzzled at the display I must have been putting on. I continued to chew until the last bit of beef had made it down my gullet before I shrugged.

“It’s less about the caloric value. But however much hot sauce you dump on cat food, it still tastes like crap.” His eyes went a little wide, and I was sure I’d just served him up fodder for the next few great tales he had to tell.

“Cat food? You really eat that?” he asked, disbelieving.

“If nothing else is available, sure. We were hoping that with the settlements we’d get actual human food more often, but doesn’t look like you’re that big on hospitality.”

I was surprised to see that hit home, but he didn’t offer up another apology. The cows really must have thrown them for a loop. I would have thought that if they didn’t want mercenaries inside their walls, they’d be glad to get a few spare ones that would last them longer. I had no idea how large the settlement was, but even if there were more than a couple of houses in there, they must have had lawns aplenty to easily host a much larger herd of pretty much any domesticated kind of animal. Three cows couldn’t have made much of a difference. I didn’t smell manure in the air, though, making me guess they had, at best, ten cows and maybe a few chickens.

Almost done with the stew, I tipped the cup back and licked the last few drops I could reach out of it, using my knife to spear the last of the bread to gather up the rest. Nervous Guy was still watching me, but with the spectacle mostly over, his attention kept skipping to my teammates more and more, particularly the three chatting in fluent Serbian over by the Jeep. I still hadn’t weaseled out of Nate how many languages he actually spoke. I caught just enough of their talk to understand that they were making fun of field rations, but to the uninitiated that probably sounded as if they were plotting how to invade the settlement. I had absolutely no intention of alleviating Nervous Guy’s jumpiness.

Catching me watching him, he made a point of not looking over there again, but the frown remained on his face.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I smiled as I replied, “I think you just did.” I hated when Nate did this. Why did I do it myself now? Because it was effective, and funny as hell to see annoyance seep into Nervous Guy’s tension.

“How can you stand to be around them? Knowing what they really are. What they can turn into. Will, I mean. You do know, right?”

A million scornful answers burned on my tongue—starting with pointing out that my PhD in virology left me knowing a lot better than he ever would—but I swallowed them in favor of a bland smile. “Do you have any idea how many zombies I’ve killed in the last year?”