Green Fields (Book 3): Escalation (27 page)

And then nothing had happened, except for the sun baking down on my mostly black gear—haphazardly placed pieces of grass turning it into the worst approximation of a ghillie suit—and the birds singing in the nearby trees… until I’d realized that it was way too silent, the wind rustling through the grass the only sound.
 

With a twinge of anxiety, I’d put the earpiece back in, whispering to Bates if he was okay.

Nothing.

No grunt, no moan, no nothing. Not even the light static hiss of breath that I’d gotten so used to that I barely noticed it anymore—unless it wasn’t there. I instantly knew that something was very wrong. And now I was stuck out here, alone, with either a predator roaming around that was powerful enough to kill Bates without me even noticing—or someone else. My bets were on that special, unwelcome someone else.

I was well aware that it wasn’t beyond the guys to prank me—and each other—but there were lines we didn’t cross. And shutting off the mic was one of them. Against all knowledge, I still hoped that Bates was just being obnoxious, but I didn’t believe that.

My pack was already off my shoulders, so I decided to leave it right there next to Bates’s, just taking a couple more magazines that were strapped to the outside with me—and of course both the M24 and my Mossberg. One last time I tried the com, only getting nothing back in return. Switching to the group channel, I hoped that anyone was close enough to get my message.

“Lewis here,” I said unnecessarily. “Bates went out to take a shit, and I’m not hearing anything back from him. I really don’t like this. I’m trying to find out what happened. We’re in the western-most part of the south-central quadrant.”

Exhaling slowly, I abandoned my post and started crawling through the grass until I reached the trees that Bates had most likely ventured to, silently cursing myself that I didn’t even know that much. There, I checked everything as thoroughly as possible before I slowly pulled myself up into a crouch to see over the grass. A small part of me still hoped that Bates would be right there, wanking or doing whatever else required him to slink off like that—but nothing. Not even trampled grass where he might have passed, or the obnoxious stench of human excrement.

I remained crouched low as I scanned my surroundings, then made my way over to the next tree, and from there to some prickly piece of shrubbery. Still nothing. Looking back toward the outlook where our packs still rested, I didn’t see movement around there, either. Also no response over the com channel, but maybe they were all indisposed and couldn’t talk. I started to see why Campbell had insisted that first chance we’d get, we should look into acquiring some throat mics instead that would catch vibrations rather than actual voices, working just as well if someone whispered. And find a way to extend the range to at least double of what it was right now.

I was pretty sure that I’d have seen Bates if he’d went down the rise on the side that I’d been studying, so I started looking around in the other direction. Even with the grass reaching up to my knees if I was standing, I felt terribly exposed as I darted from cover to cover, hard-pressed to find anything large enough that was able to hide me. It should have been impossible for Bates to get lost like this, without even leaving a trail for me to follow.

I swung by our makeshift camp once to make sure that I wasn’t missing anything, but no. I could still see where I had left—following what now looked like the trail Bates had actually left over to those trees—and of course the newest tracks. Nothing else. Crouching over my pack, I hesitated another moment, then reached inside and pulled out the two ziplock bags that held my spare clothes and feminine hygiene products, to drop them in a nearby foxhole I’d almost stumbled into as I left once more. I felt incredibly paranoid doing that, but it suddenly seemed all the more important to ensure that if anyone found my pack, it wouldn’t be identifiable as mine.

With unease creeping up my spine, I set out to do a second circuit, this one ranging up to half a mile away from our packs. And it was back the way we’d come, where the slope evened out toward the west, where I found what I was looking for—and I really wasn’t happy about it.
 

I didn’t have to guess what group the two men who held Bates at gunpoint next to their fucking silent electric car belonged to.

Fuck.

Instantly, I flattened myself on the ground, making sure that every single part of me was out of sight. They were just two, and from that glimpse I’d gotten, they were far enough away from Bates that I could maybe pick one off with my sniper rifle. But that still left the other. While their weapons had been drawn, they’d looked as if they’d been chatting with him, so maybe there was hope—

Any of that got pounded to dust when I heard the telltale sound of other vehicles drawing close. A hasty look revealed a familiar red pickup truck and an ATV drawing up to their position, upping the odds from two against two to seven.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Everything in me screamed to just back away and run, but I cut down on the impulse immediately. It was my fault that Bates hadn’t been covered; they’d probably have picked us both up otherwise, but still. I wasn’t delusional enough to believe that I could just bust him out—and giving myself up was so not an option—but I had to do something. So with brute force and cowardly retreat out of the question, I did the only thing left to me—I crawled closer, moving an inch at a time, until I could catch what they were saying between them. At least they were still talking.

Through the grass, I had a good look at Bates’s back where it was turned to me, but could barely make out more than the silhouettes of the others. All men, all wearing gear not dissimilar to ours. Driving cars. They also seemed to carry walkie-talkies. Just awesome. They were like us, just minus the morals and much better gear, if the silent car for what now looked like the extended perimeter guard was any indication.

“I’m not buying it,” one of the men was saying. “One guy, out here in the open, alone, with just a gun and a fucking tittie magazine? Where are the others of your group?”

Bates shrugged with his arms still raised, the motion making more than one of the rifles pointed at his chest jerk. That didn’t keep him from chuckling softly, though.

“Easy, man. Of course I got a pack. It’s right over there. Just didn’t take it with me for taking a leak.”

Some murmurs between them rose, but they were too quiet for me to pick out. Bates didn’t seem to have that same issue, judging from the way he suddenly tensed.

“Listen. I’m just one unlucky reject trying to make it through this hellhole our world has become. Was with some people, didn’t like their thing, so we split. Heard that around here there’s this group that’s different, so I thought to myself, why not see if that’s the thing for me? You fine gentlemen are part of that group, am I right? Good gear, good training, well fed—looks like you’re on to something here.”

The guy who’d spoken before opened his mouth again. “And why would we possibly want you with us? We’re not looking for recruits.”

This time, Bates didn’t move as he replied, making sure to remain exceptionally immobile.
 

“Because I can be of use to you. Army vet, two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan. Did some private contract work after that. I know how to hunt, I know how to fight. Maybe we can all learn from each other, know what I mean? You know I must be good or else I wouldn’t still be alive.”

I knew that he was just trying to get off the hot seat—maybe even literally—but I hated how my stomach seized at his words. Bates had never really been what I’d call a friend, but I didn’t like the resentment his words pulled up inside of me. He sounded damn convincing, to me at least.

“Let’s check out your pack first,” one of the others said. “If it’s a trap, you get to die first.”

“No trap, I swear,” Bates replied. “But be my guest. It’s right over there. I can show you, walk right in front of you, if you’re concerned about mines or some shit.”

“Go. But no funny business.”

“Yes, sir,” Bates replied, turning around slowly. I could see that they’d not just taken his rifle, but also his two guns and the knife. I wondered about his backup piece in his boot, but they looked like they knew how to do a thorough check. What was glaringly absent was his com gear, I realized; neither the earpiece nor the chunky battery pack were anywhere in sight. That begged the question whether he’d pulled it off himself before he got captured, or they’d rid him of it. I doubted they’d be that relaxed about his lies if they thought he was actively working with someone.

Bates didn’t dawdle as he aimed for our lookout, but he also didn’t move particularly fast. He tried talking to the men again but they shut him up quickly. Altogether, they didn’t make much sound, and I had to admit that had I not already been hiding in the grass, they could have very well snuck up on me. As it was, my heart continued to thump in my throat as I slowly followed them, making sure to stay out of sight.

About halfway to the packs, static from my earpiece made me jump and immediately flatten myself to the ground, my pulse racing.

“Lewis, Bates, status,” I heard Nate’s voice snap. I didn’t reply, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. Nate waited a good minute that I spent sweating blood as I didn’t dare to move, before I heard his voice again. “I’m assuming you can’t talk right now, Bree. If that’s the case, blow lightly over the mic.”

That was actually a damn good idea for limited communication, and I immediately did what he told me to. I was sure that I likely killed half of his hearing with the feedback that must have produced, but at least it was something.

Nate didn’t curse or anything, but his voice held a hint of chiding. “Maybe a little less forceful next time. Did you find Bates? One for yes, two for no.” I—lightly—exhaled into the mic again. “I’m assuming that you’re not safe right now?” Another exhale. “Is he still alive?” Exhale. “Is he hiding, too?” Two quick breaths that burned my throat. “Did they catch him?” I felt myself hesitate, but there really was no sense to it. Another affirmative exhale. “Shit.”

The light static of the receiver cut off then, making me panic for a second, but I figured that Nate was simply debating with someone and didn’t want me to listen in to the conversation. Just peachy. Exhaling shakily, I looked toward the group again. They’d now reached the packs but were out of earshot for me. Two of them were rifling through the packs, and the guy who I presumed was in charge was barking something at Bates, likely because there were two packs there. I’d never been more glad about my paranoia that had led me to hide my personal stuff. This way, Bates could at least argue that he’d been carrying two packs—one in front, the larger one on his back. It wasn’t that different from what all of us had been doing before we’d had the cars.

Nate’s voice in my ear scared me up again, although this time I had been waiting for it. “Can you tell me how many there are?” Yes. “More than five?” Yes. “More then ten?” No. “Armed?” Yes. “Vehicles?” Yes. “Do they know you’re there?” I considered that before answering. No.
 

A strange sound followed, making me wonder if that had been a sigh of relief. “Stay in cover, do not engage. Do you copy? Don’t play the hero. And if you have to watch them execute him right in front of you, you stay hidden. Do you understand?”

I tensed at his words. That was so not a command that I wanted to follow—but I still kept it at just one exhale, if a forceful one.

“Good,” Nate acknowledged. “I’d come to get you but they’re likely suspicious now, and with no way of telling your exact position, I trust that you can fend for yourself for now.” Yes. “Keep me updated.” Yes.

My com went dead, giving me nothing else to do than remain lying in the grass, every single muscle of my body tense. I itched to crawl into earshot again, but when two of the men split from the group, venturing off roughly in the direction my tracks were likely still showing, I was forced to remain where I was. With luck, they’d trampled the grass enough to obscure anything further, but I just couldn’t risk getting closer.

Shitshitshitshit.

The morbid part of me wondered if I shouldn’t just take the shot and kill Bates, then run like hell for the cars and use one of them to get away. But there was no telling if that wouldn’t just doom me, and, quite frankly, if I could get away without murdering one of our own, I would always take that chance.
 

Shouting alerted me to the fact that they’d apparently found the bags I’d hidden. Bates’s body language seemed appeasing, but the leader’s face scrunched up as he came to meet the others to examine the contents. They shared looks, then started glancing around as if the fact that they’d found my panties would make me materialize out of thin air.

“Where is she? Your wife, or girlfriend, or whatever?” the guy barked loud enough that I heard him even across the distance. Bates replied something that sounded appeasing as he shook his head, but I could tell that the others didn’t buy his denial. Two of them grabbed him and dragged him toward the leader, the others collecting the contents of the packs and bringing them along. Bates continued to protest, his voice now gaining a desperate edge.

“Man, do I look like the kind of guy that travels with female company? I haven’t had any pussy since the shit hit the fan. It’s just me, my right hand, and that quality publication you found me perusing when we met. I swear.”

“Then how do you explain this?” the leader asked, brandishing my bags.