Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction (36 page)

Even if they didn’t need—or strictly want—my help with their lab setup, I still spent hours discussing the different projects they were running in the labs. Dom seemed to have been charged with making sure that I wasn’t going to ruin their sweet setup, and he was somewhat less prickly than some of the other scientists about me intruding into their domain.
 

In the end it was Dom who gave us a reason to leave again, if not in a bad way. As he’d explained on the initial tour of the Silo, he and a few others had started trying to preserve the medical progress of the last decades, wherever possible—a much more important endeavor than finding the “cure” that the Aurora folks were supposedly working on. It was on the third morning after we’d arrived here when Dom plunked down on the bench next to me at breakfast and handed over a printout.
 

“Contract that just came over the satellite connection,” he explained as I started perusing it. “I’ve been saying for months that there still must be antibiotics stores all over the country. You mentioned that you guys raided a pharmacy in the mall that you hit earlier?” I nodded. “Just think what something like this would yield! Probably enough to get all of us through the sniffles for a decade, maybe more.”

I finished reading, then handed the paper to Nate. “I’m a little surprised that no one has thought of this before,” I offered. “Hit a biotech production facility. Even if they shut down production ahead of the apocalypse, their storage is probably full of yet-to-be-delivered goods.”

Dom’s grin widened at my comment. “You should take this contract. It’s a veritable goldmine. And you, personally, have the knowledge to check what else they have stored there. So far we’re not running low on anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to stock up on the basic chemicals. Just make sure that they are properly stored and we can keep a good inventory on them.”
 

Fin and Jon, two of the lab guys, seemed to think the notion that I was sent out to do supply runs and related inventory jobs highly amusing, but I ignored them. They’d been two of the guys who’d gloated at the fact that they’d both finished their studies one and two years ahead of me, respectively—because pettiness had survived the apocalypse well enough. Sunny—unanimously regarded as the lead scientist—shut them up before they could get too annoying, this time. “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” he enthused. “Sure, we can write wish lists, but you’re likely one of the few people who has both the skills and the smarts to make that trip.” That got a snort from Nate, but Sunny wouldn’t let that slide. “I know that I can write the correct names of chemicals on paper and let just any grunt fetch them for me, but have you actually looked at those labels? A number in a different space, an added character, and it’s a completely different chemical.”

Burns found that incredibly funny, but he would—as a demolitions specialist he wasn’t quite that averse to chemistry as some of the others.

“There’s really no need to continue trying to sell this to me,” I said, hard-pressed not to scoff. “I think we can all agree that we’d rather hit a factory than deliver mail.” It didn’t go by me unnoticed that Wilkes, in particular, seemed very pleased about my answer. “Do you intend to keep it all for yourselves, or will you eventually distribute whatever we bring back?”

The shrewd look he taxed me with was a downright badge of honor. “Let’s phrase it this way. We are independent up here, particularly if traders and scavengers still drop in at least every few weeks. We are one of the few remaining installations that don’t have to work with the government network. With New Angeles next in line to become a key power player in the emerging new world order, the idea that we can wield some additional leverage isn’t one that robs me of any sleep. On the contrary. I’m sure that in the long run we can all benefit from working together rather than against each other.” I was sure that he hadn’t forgotten about Nate’s musings concerning the winter, either.

I still asked Nate what he thought about this contract, but he raised no objections when I voiced my opinion that it was probably the next best thing for us to do. Ten minutes later I was standing in front of the video wall, but only used their radio to sign in with Tamara to let her know that we were going to take the contract. Much to my surprise she let me know that someone else had already snatched it up. “But I can try to get them on the line,” she offered. “This sounds like the kind of hit where more people just means more loot for everyone involved.”

“Anyone we know?” I asked.

“Probably not,” Tamara replied. “They’re about as bad as you are about keeping their transponders online. Might be a day or two until I hear back from them. They’re still three days away from the target, so if you beat it now, you can rendezvous with them there.” The facility was just outside Alexandria, Minnesota—with luck not an eventful drive. “I presume the guys from the Silo have already told you what they need?”

That made me chuckle. “Not yet but I think they are keeping their lists ready. They already praised me for being perfect for the mission. Former scientist, playing fetch for the real ones.”

Tamara laughed, but it had a certain edge to it. “Well, if you don’t mind…”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, but answered that before she could. “Honestly, as much fun as it is to sit around and watch endless re-runs of ‘90s sitcoms, I’m about ready to be out there again. I haven’t spent the last year getting into the shape of my life only to fatten up again now.”

Nate gave me a look that was borderline unreadable—all preferences aside, starvation wasn’t that good a look on anyone—before he signed off. I left it at a silent shrug. Sure, it was nice to be able to let my guard down, but it had been three weeks since Harristown. Three weeks of almost no zombies, no close calls, no endless night shifts just waiting to have to sound the alarm. Not that I was missing having to run for my life, but if I was honest, I was starting to get a little antsy. Not because I needed the thrill—not exactly—but because I was afraid that if I went much longer without it, I would realize that I’d lost what edge I’d built over the winter.

“Anything on your mind?” Nate asked. Apparently I had stared at nothing for far too long.

I shook my head. “No. Just being stupid. Why?”

He gave something between a grunt and a laugh. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, right. Spit it out.”

Nate shrugged. “I was just wondering if maybe you weren’t quite that agreeable about joining forces than you let on with Tamara.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” I asked, not feigning surprise. “Banding together with Jason’s guys was a great idea. Why shouldn’t we do that again?”

“You tell me why,” he said.

“Ah, shut up,” I grunted, looking around. The usual underlying buzz of people working all around us was still going strong, if somewhat more muted than before. That they were eavesdropping on us was a given. “You’re just projecting your own insecurities on me.”

“What insecurities?” Nate chuffed, giving my shoulder a light push toward the exit. “You’re so eager to beat it? Then relay the good news to our people. I’m tired of them grumbling at me.”

“Who grumbles?” That was news to me. “No one ever complains to me.”

“Yeah, and why is that?”

That was an insult, that much was obvious, but I didn’t deign to act on it.

“Whatever. I’ll tell the guys, you go harass the nerds about what they need us to fetch. We meet at the cars in thirty.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledged, giving me a mock salute. Sighing, I turned away, not giving him the satisfaction of the return quip he was waiting for. Sometimes I asked myself why I was putting up with this—but today was not one of those days.

On the way back to the cars Sunny caught up with us again, looking just that tad bit harassed that raised my hackles. It was that very same look people had when they wanted something from you but were well aware of the fact that they were asking for something you weren’t willing to give. The ghost of a smile on Nate’s face just underlined that—he’d caught it, too.

Giving the chief scientist a sidelong glance, I decided to end his fretting. “Just spit it out. What do you want?”

Sunny looked downright appalled, his usually open and friendly face taking on a decidedly pinched expression.

“It’s less about what I want,” he explained. “More something I have to offer, if you are willing to take it.”

That was cryptic enough that it made me stop in my tracks so I could look at him better. “What’s with the hedging then? We were happy enough to accept the optics you got for our assault rifles.”

He opened his mouth but closed it again, and when he finally spoke, it was to Nate rather than me.

“Two of our molecular biologists got their fingers on the documentation that the government is distributing among those that are working on the cure. The XLC22 documentation, I mean.” It took me embarrassingly long to realize that he was talking about the serum. It had been so long since I’d heard anyone refer to it by its original name that I’d pretty much forgotten it.

“What about it?” Nate asked when it became obvious that Sunny was waiting for something.

“As you’ve probably noticed, we don’t have a single one here in the Silo who’s been through that program. But we’ve been compiling a list of the advantages the serum inferred in those that were inoculated with it—“

“And survived,” Nate interjected, his tone just a little snide.

Sunny inclined his head. “Of course. My point is, we’ve developed a booster for it.” At Nate’s raised brows, he explained, talking almost too fast for me to understand. “It’s nothing dangerous, or not inherently so. It boils down to the injected equivalent of an energy drink, only that it actually works. The main components are epinephrine, caffeine, amphetamine, ketamine—the usual suspects in all kinds of stimulatory substances. In someone who already has a boosted metabolism it should confer an increased state of alertness, paired with lessened pain sensation. It lets you perform at the maximum of your capabilities, for a certain time frame. Once it’s out of your system, you'll probably feel the effects of overexerting yourself, but nothing you haven’t experienced before, I’m certain.”

Now didn’t that sound nifty? And like I still hadn’t gotten all the pages of the memo, I had to admit. What was that last part about?

Nate latched on to a different part of the rambled explanation. “It should confer?” he echoed, now definitely amused.

“We’re not out of the beta testing stage yet,” Sunny admitted. “That’s why I’m hesitant offering this to you. I have read the files. I know what they did to you. I understand if you’d never want to get anywhere near experimental medication—“

Nate made a dismissive sound low in his throat. “If it’s simply to see what breaks first, my fist or a wall made of cast iron, I won’t agree. But if it’s something that might give me an edge out there in a moment when I need it, I’m not necessarily opposed.”

Sunny practically beamed at him, looking relieved at the same time. “That’s exactly why we were looking into developing it. Your physical skills are already superior to those of others, and you often find yourself in situations where an extra ten percent might make a difference between life or death. Science, in its true purpose, should not just examine but further the human condition. We just didn’t have much chance to test it yet.” At an inquisitive look from me, he shrugged. “A few of the scavengers that dropped by earlier this year let us run a few tests on them. There are side effects, but none that aren’t to be expected. If you run yourself ragged, you will experience exhaustion afterward. But none of them are lethal. They just extenuate the effects you will feel because of the strenuous activities you put your body through.”

That sounded useful, except for one thing.

“What if someone like me takes it?” I asked. “Someone who hasn’t gotten the serum in the past?”

I’d expected Sunny to balk at the very idea, but the chagrined look he gave me proved that they had results on that, too. “I wouldn’t advise it,” he pointed out. “He might end up tired and a little jumpy. To you it would feel as if you’d been burning the candle at both ends—with a blowtorch. You likely wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest, provided that you don’t suffer from a pre-existing condition. There’s a limited risk of suffering a stroke. It would, at the very least, feel rather unpleasant, like a bad acid trip.”

“You’re speaking from experience?” I guessed, not without humor.

I got a somewhat dejected look back. “Of course we had to test it on someone. At the very best, one tenth of the dose of someone who has been inoculated is what anyone else should take. But only if they were absolutely desperate.”

I had no intention whatsoever to get anywhere close to that stuff, but the considering look on Nate’s face made me guess that someone was bound to play guinea pig very soon.

“How much of that booster can you spare?” he asked.

Sunny shrugged. “How much do you want? We can easily produce more if you give us a few days' time. How about I give you four doses for testing on the road, and you can always come back for more if you think it’s something that might give you an edge.”

“Speaking of an edge,” Nate said. “If you’ve been reading up on the original documentation, did you find the formula for the reactive coagulant agent in there, too?”

Sunny looked a little confused until his face suddenly lit up. “You mean the glue?”

“Yes, the glue,” Nate agreed, smirking in my direction.

Snorting, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, don’t remind me of that. I still have nightmares sometimes.” When Sunny blinked, clearly not getting what was a running inside joke between us, I explained. “Nate here so happened to get speared by a rebar the day the shit hit the fan. He probably would have bled out if Martinez hadn’t glued him up with that shit, whatever it is. And I had the dubious pleasure of cutting all that and the necrotic tissue all around it out the day after. Which reminds me…” I trailed off there to fix Nate with a glare. He was still grinning, the bastard. “Back then, the peanut gallery wasn’t just there to hold you down while I cut you up, right? They were there that should you turn into a fucking zombie they could off you before you managed to chew my fucking face off!”