Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction

Green Fields #4

Extinction

Adrienne Lecter

Extinction

Green Fields #4

by Adrienne Lecter

Copyright © 2016 by Adrienne Lecter. All rights reserved. 
 

http://adriennelecter.com

First edition: March 2016

Produced and published by Barbara Klein,
1140 Vienna, Mauerbachstr. 42/12/3, Austria

Edited by Marti Lynch

Cover design by S.Marko

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
 

Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
 

The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read her work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help spread the word.
 

To M
 

—

because nothing says “I love you” like not smothering each other in our sleep

What happened in the Green Fields Series so far:

Nate Miller is a man on a mission—and that mission is to find out how exactly his brother died, and who is responsible for it. He recruits Bree Lewis, a virologist, to help him, even if she doesn’t know it yet. They end up destroying the virus that killed Nate’s brother—and turned him into a zombie—but it is too late. The zombie apocalypse is already happening.

Together with his group of mercenaries and a few others who join along the way, they flee the city, barely escaping a mob of zombies that devours everything in its way. Scared and hungry, they start their trek across the country. Their destination: a shelter in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, half a continent away. With rations and ammunition running low, they soon have to resort to looting the dead to stay ahead of the undead hordes. And the zombies are not the only thing out there ready to end their lives.

After spending the winter in their bunker in Wyoming, it is time for the gang to rediscover the world out there. With a loose trade network emerging, there is always need for someone to go raid a mall. They end up hunting super zombies in Sioux Falls, and take out the cannibal compound in Illinois—but at a cost that has to be paid in blood. Bree, grieving for her friend, isn’t sure any longer if the scavenger life is right for her. When they deliver the survivors of the cannibal camp to Aurora, Kansas, she finds out that not only are there efforts being made to find a cure for the zombie virus, but she is also offered to take over as leader of the laboratory. Her enthusiasm takes a hit when she learns just how far the super soldier program Nate and some of the others have been a part of ran, turning elite soldiers into ticking time bombs. The new world order discriminates against their former hidden weapons, exiling them to a life on the road. No temptation is sweet enough to get between Bree and her new family, and she’s more than ready to lead their newly affirmed band of scavengers together with Nate—the Lucky Thirteen are born.
 

Now they are ready for adventure!

Remember the “Intro” at the beginning of the very first book? That mall raid goes right between the end of book #3 and the beginning of book #4.

Chapter 1

“Do you know anything about cattle herding?”

Staring out of the Rover’s windshield at the cows grazing in the field across from us, I thought it was a valid question. Nate didn’t reply, so I looked from our precious bounty-to-be to him and raised my brows. He continued to give me one of those flat stares that so often drove me insane—now not an exception.

“Why should I know anything about cattle, or herding it?” he asked, exasperation heavy in his voice.

“Well, I certainly don’t,” I yipped back. “I don’t even know the difference between a cow and a heifer. What would you say that one over by that tree is?”

Nate glanced at the indicated animal. “A bull.”

So much for that. “Why—“

“Because of the testicles dangling underneath its ass.”

Squinting, I tried to make out what he was talking about. Yup, those were some massive balls—and not the only thing hanging there. It seemed to be a very happy bull. Great. Now I was waxing poetic over bovine reproductive organs. And I couldn’t even blame sunstroke, although it was certainly hot enough for that in the car without the AC running. Oh, the sacrifices we all made for fuel efficiency.

“Still doesn’t explain the difference between a heifer and a cow,” I replied, not ready to accede that point to him. He was right too many times for his own good, albeit mostly because ninety percent of our topics ranged around his expertise rather than mine.

“Age,” Nate offered. Damn.

Sighing, I accepted the binoculars from him to scan the herd once more. True enough, the bull testes looked no less impressive up close. But that shouldn’t have been my focus, for so many reasons.

“You know, it’s situations like this where I miss the internet most.
Before
, we could have just looked it up.”

Nate’s silence made me glance at him once more. I really didn’t care for his condescending smile. “It’s so like you to want to look up cattle terms rather than how to catch them,” he replied.

“Oh, shut up. I would have searched for that next.” His silence let me know what he thought of that. I didn’t reward that with another pissy reply. “So, how do we catch them?” I asked instead.

A few seconds passed before Nate grunted and reached for the car com unit. “Anyone got a clue how to catch us some cows? And no, driving right over them is not an option, Burns.”

As was to be expected, Burns answered with a chuckle. “No clue, boss, if that’s off the table.”

A chorus of similar replies chimed in, until Pia, usually the voice of reason, ended it with a succinct, “You should have bargained for beef rather than live cattle.”
 

Leaning over to Nate so the mic would catch my voice, I proposed, “How about we try to split some off the main herd?”

“And then what?” Nate questioned. “Ask them nicely to put on a lead rope and follow us?”

“It’s only five miles back to New Town,” I pointed out. “Even if most of Iowa is flat as a board, they don’t have anywhere else to go if we coordinate right.”

Fully expecting him to laugh in my face, I was surprised when he shrugged. “I’ve heard worse. Anyone got any objections?” No one spoke up. Nate gave a curt nod. “Done.” He followed that up with a few formation ideas, but it was obvious that with no precedence whatsoever, planning was impossible. This wasn’t your random mall raid where it was all about sneaking in, disposing of all the shamblers, and being done with it. These were herd animals who, if we were really unlucky, possessed a lot more coordination and brain power than a horde of zombies.

Five minutes later we were all set, and I ambled the Rover across the field, straight toward the edge of the herd. There were around fifty cows—including the odd young bull; I wouldn’t have mistaken a full-grown one for a female—most of them grazing, with the odd one lying down to chew their cud. We’d been watching them long enough that they had started to ignore us, but as soon as they picked up our movement, heads turned and low mooing sounds alerted the few sedentary ones.
 

“Shouldn’t they be moving?” I asked Nate when I was about twenty yards away from the first animal. “Stampede? Or at least trot away because we’re annoying?”

“Beats me,” he offered. “Honk once. That shouldn’t be too conspicuous.”

I paused, but then dutifully reached for the center control and engaged what used to be the central heating button. In a world where road maintenance was a thing of the past and any loud noise could rain down terror and destruction upon you, accidentally blaring the horn when you knocked yourself stupid on the steering wheel? So not a great idea. A muted horn blare rang out, but the cows barely flicked their ears at us. Eyeing the surrounding countryside wearily, I allowed myself to relax again when no shamblers poured out of any conceivable—or inconceivable—hiding space. I was tempted to drive forward until I could nudge one of the cows in the hamstrings, or wrench my window open and pet it.

“Remind me again why we want to catch them alive?” I asked, unable to keep my fingers from drumming on the wheel.

Nate grunted. “Because that’s the deal you made.”

“I just snagged up the standing order. Technically, we don’t even know if New Town is still operating.” Which, in hindsight, we maybe should have cleared up beforehand. Then again, I figured Tamara would have let me know if she thought we were out on a foolish quest. Just thinking that made me grin.

Nate let that pass uncommented on and got out of the car. Reaching for a stone from the ground, he threw it in the approximate direction of the animals, but short enough not to hit one of them. The closest cow gave a low grunt, but that was about it.

“How did they get through the last year if they’re that recalcitrant?” I shouted at him, making no move to disengage my belt harness.

“How did you?” he called back—and that finally did the trick. Two of the cows and the young bull started forward, not exactly running, but giving us a berth. The others followed, eyeing us with those gentle, huge eyes. If I hadn’t been afraid they’d trample me to death, I might have tried petting one for real. Nate let out a whoop that got the cattle trotting further away from him. He got back into the car with a triumphant grin on his face.

Before he could say anything, I brought the car forward. “If you claim now that what works with me works with cows, too, I’ll punch you.”

He left it at a grin, but that was answer enough.

Burns and Clark driving by us, all six men in the two cars screaming loudly, put an end to our argument. What had been a sedate trot before became a full-out run, and within thirty seconds they had the entire herd moving. I fell in left of Burns, leaving him the lead to flank any cows that might decide to veer off in our direction. There was a rise to our left—northeast to north—with a wooded area ahead. If they’d gone in that direction, we wouldn’t have had a chance in hell to run them down, but Pia speeding the Jeep along that way got them veering west instead.
 

The pasture ended, and what used to be a cornfield continued beyond an unpaved access road. Nothing but weeds was growing between the brown husks of the former stems, trodden down by the very cows now racing through them. A few trees ahead made a group of maybe twelve cows split further west. I didn’t need Nate’s comment to follow them, Burns and Clark ahead of me. The main herd continued on, but with the remaining two cars now spreading out between that and our prey, the smaller group of cattle had no choice but to range further from the others. Two of the faster cows in the lead split off, rejoining the main herd, but the others remained on track. We only needed a handful, so that didn’t matter.

The cornfield led into another pasture, the easier going making the cows race ahead. I could see a couple of barns, a silo, and some abandoned heavy machinery beyond that—not where we wanted our cattle to go. At my comment, Nate reached for the mic again and told the others to slow down and try to bring the cows further west. It took the cows a little time to realize that they weren’t chased that closely anymore, and a little coaxing had them change direction again.

This wasn’t actually that hard. At this pace, even if we didn’t manage to lasso a couple of them, we could likely just drive them toward the settlement and let the people there deal with them. There were probably a couple farmers there that actually knew how to handle cattle.

Three of the younger animals tried to break off to the left, making me accelerate and go after them, trying to cut them off before they could get far. There was another road ahead with the next field slightly elevated beyond a ditch. That looked like the kind of natural border fleeing cows would avoid. I’d just have to reach the road before them and veer east, coming right at them, and that should drive them back toward the others.

My idea seemed to be working, at least until I slid onto the road in a dramatic right turn, only to see the lead cow come right at me. I wasn’t going that fast—maybe twenty-five miles an hour—but a head-on collision with seven hundred pounds of beef and bone didn’t sound too appealing. I revved the engine and blared the horn again, hoping that would startle the cow into stopping and turning.

It didn’t.

“Right!” Nate shouted, making me wrench the steering wheel around hard, sending the car into another, much tighter, turn. The back wheels hit dirt and gravel, the momentum making the entire car spin, the heavily fortified left back corner slamming into the cow. The animal screamed, the impact hard enough to slam me into the harness.