Resurgence: Green Fields book 5 (20 page)

“Very well, I can take a hint,” he said, still amused. “I’ll leave you to your sorry excuse of a workout. The guys were saying something about pizza, beer, and bad ‘80s action flicks. I’m sorry to tell you, but that beats your pleasant company.”

I hesitated, but then accepted his invitation. “I’ll drop by later.”

He nodded before he left me to my own devices, my heart just a little lighter than half an hour ago.

The Silo may have been bursting with people, but up on the second level of the command center, in the very back, it was a relatively quiet evening for us. The pizza didn’t taste like anything—what a surprise—but I still made myself eat two slices of it. The beer I flat-out declined, but Martinez coaxed me into accepting the mashed-apple yogurt that was equally as popular. With the latest influx of people had come some real farmers who not only knew how to herd cows, but also what to make of their produce, bringing such treasures back on the menu. The mention of cows made me remember our glorious mission of herding three of them to one of the settlements—what seemed like a million years ago. I tried keeping to myself but there was always someone who plunked down next to me whenever someone else got up, so I resigned myself to my fate of not stewing in silence the entire evening. As much as the many, many people outside had irritated me, with just the guys around it was a nice evening. Actually, it was great, but I didn’t quite feel like releasing my grudge on life and letting their raucous laughter infect me. There was no need to actively avoid Nate as he kept his distance—something I was grateful for. It wasn’t like I intended to hold a grudge forever, but right now I just couldn’t stomach being close to him. They didn’t say that the road to hell was paved with good intentions for nothing.

I was up early the next morning, roaming the halls aimlessly as I waited for the others to get up. There was no one working in the hangar at the ass-crack of dawn, but the Rover showed obvious signs of repair. Someone had completed Andrej’s attempt to patch up the back window, and the front ones had been replaced. The bullet holes in the doors and metal frame had been patched up with something and painted over, giving the car a downright pock-marked look. There were no floor mats inside at the moment and the latent stench of bleach made me guess that they’d scrubbed everything down yet again. There was no saving the seats but I figured we would replace them eventually once we found a car that was still intact enough to do for spares. If not, there were always the guys in Dispatch who could replace the upholstery.

Someone had replaced the ruined sand bag in the gym, but the group of people doing early morning hand-to-hand combat drills gave me weird looks that made me duck right out of the cavernous room again. The cantina was still empty as I checked again so I continued walking, ending up by the labs. The biohazard lab was still dark but in the normal one next to it two lab techs were at it already, getting whatever they were working on ready for the day. I ignored them, instead wandering over to the tables at the side where I knew Sunny kept his notes. True enough, the mangled printouts from his presentation where there, set aside from everything else. I stared at them for a full five minutes but didn’t pick them up. I wasn’t curious anymore. I flat out didn’t care. I’d never thought that possible, not after years and years of college and grad school, followed by my somewhat up-and-down career. Screw that damn virus and all the grief it caused. There was nothing in these papers, or in this very lab, that was of any consequence to me anymore. There would never be a cure—all the analyzing in the world wouldn’t change that. As for the other scientific advancements—or the attempt to halt the steady decline of knowledge and medical possibilities—what could I do from out there, anyway? After a last moment that I gave myself to draw that final conclusion I turned around and left, feeling actually relieved to be back out in the stark concrete corridor.

The scent of coffee made me turn around. It came from the small door next to the lab rooms. How I could still smell but not taste would forever remain a mystery, I figured. Then again, we knew that zombies were good hunters, so why shouldn’t their sense of smell remain preserved? At least in small groups their stench probably didn't hinder them too much.

Looking inside, I realized that the room must be Mako’s infirmary. The heavenly scent hailed from a steaming cup on a side table, and Mako herself was busy doing inventory of one of the cupboards. She jumped when I cleared my throat, trying not to scare her too much. She relaxed as she recognized me, giving me a small smile.

“Here to take me up on my offer, or just to talk?” she asked.

“Talk sounds good for now,” I replied, eyeing her stocks with curiosity. Some of the boxes looked old enough to be from the original rocket silo when it had still been used for what it had been intended, but then gauze likely didn’t go stale that quickly.
 

“Are you still experiencing any pain? Spotting?”

I shook my head. “Not for a few days now. Just sometimes a weird discomfort, but that’s it.”

She nodded. “That’s good news.” I must have given her quite the blank stare, making her explain. “I know that under these circumstances, nothing sounds like good news to you. That’s normal, too. But if you continue to heal, that means that your body is simply doing what it’s supposed to do. Your vagina, uterus, and ovaries are supposed to be a self-supporting, self-cleaning system. Your entire body went through some massive trauma, but system by system, it is returning to what it is supposed to do. That is good news.”

I knew what she was trying to tell me, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t figured that much out myself.

“It’s just…” I started, then didn’t know how to go on. I had to look away, my throat closing down with a wave of emotion crashing through me. “I sometimes feel like I deserve this.”

I couldn’t look at her face, knowing that I would see judgment there, but even with staring at the edge of the desk, it was impossible to miss the pain crossing her features.

“No. Don’t ever think that you did this—“

Mako cut off when my head snapped up, our gazes meeting again. “You have no idea what I did,” I said, my voice flat. “The decisions I made. The people I killed. If there is anything like karma out there, I deserved the sucker punch I got, and so, so much more.”

She shook her head, reaching for me, but I backed away before she could make contact.

“You’re not the first woman who has been through a lot, and I understand—“

“You understand nothing,” I ground out, exhaling forcefully to get a grip on myself again. “How could you understand? You sit here in your safe bunker and get to hear stories, at best. I killed people. Not innocents, necessarily, but still. At the cannibal compound it was so easy to decide between good and evil, but at that factory? I was supposed to die. That was the pact that I made with myself. I pay the ultimate price so what I do isn’t quite that terrible…” Unable to speak on, I fell silent, the anguish in my chest so strong that breathing was all but impossible.

This time when Mako stepped up to me, I didn’t shy away, but rather than hug me, she squeezed my shoulder gently. “You are right. I have no idea what you are going through. But I’ve been out there. I only got to the Silo late autumn last year. I know what it’s like out there, and that was before anyone started speaking of civil war. I know that this likely doesn’t help, but you’re facing the same dilemma any soldier faces in any war. You didn’t start this, and you know that the guy you’re trying to kill before he can kill you in turn is sitting in the exact same boat as you are. There is never any personal gain in war, only loss. But just because you survived doesn’t mean that you deserve to be punished, by fate or God or whatever else you believe in.”

“Not sure I still believe in anything,” I admitted, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I know what survivor’s guilt is. I had to deal with enough of that last year. This is different.”

“How?” she asked, her fingers on my shoulder like a gentle nudge. “How is it different? You were faster. Better. More tenacious than the other guy. It was likely luck that made you survive and him end up dead.”

Swallowing, I shook my head. “If it was just one guy…”

“So you’re good at what you do,” she offered. “I’ve heard the stories about what your group did. You saved those women and children from the cannibals, and who knows how many caravans that would have fallen prey to them if you hadn’t eradicated them. Without you, Harristown would be a patch of blood-soaked earth. Even though the factory was a trap, the Raiders managed to bring two cargo holds full of antibiotics back to Dispatch that will get hundreds of people through the winter when otherwise they would likely have died. Nothing you have done was selfish, or just for your own gain. In fact, people like you are the most altruistic we still have out there, and I’m counting us and the people in Dispatch in that, too.”

If anything, that claim just made me feel worse. “You don’t get it, do you? Doing some good doesn’t outweigh all the bad.” Pulling away from her, I sighed, my frustration so palpable it made me choke. “I was so stupid. So naive. I whined and bitched and moaned because I didn’t have enough responsibility, not enough of a voice in decision making. But look what happened. I complained that I didn’t want to stand around, guarding the cars while the others cased the cannibal compound, and the day they take me out with them, I end up getting Bates killed. Without us showing up, the Chargers would never have tackled the zombies at Harristown, and not lost one of their own. I had a bad feeling at that factory, but did I speak up? And when we were trying to get out of that hellhole, I could have shot that fucker that offed Cho, but I didn’t. If I had, he likely wouldn’t have died, and I wouldn’t have become zombie chow. I wouldn’t have gone on a rampage, wouldn’t have killed however many soldiers trying to get away. And we wouldn’t have been there to slaughter all those soldiers who tried to take those trader women with them. They ended up dead, anyway, and now we have a fucking bounty on our heads, giving the other side ammunition to showcase just what monsters we are. Well, they are right, because that’s exactly what we are. Monsters. And I’m fighting for top spot with the worst of them.”

It would have been easier to see derision or fear on her face, but Mako kept shaking her head all through my rant, compassion the foremost emotion shining from her eyes.

“I’m not saying that you haven’t done your fair share of messed-up crap,” she offered once I fell silent. “But you, personally or as part of your group, are not responsible for every single bad thing that happened. A lot of it was likely circumstantial, or plain bad luck.”

I kept shaking my head, not letting her words get through to me. “I didn’t have to be so stupid.” Hesitating, I finally said what I really needed to get out. “No one forced me to shoot. Or drive over defenseless people. That was my decision. And I hate myself for it.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that, and honestly, it wouldn’t have made a difference if she’d tried. I turned around to go, but hesitated by the door. “Thanks for listening. I’m sorry I dumped all that on you, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“You have your people,” she pointed out. “You have someone. Someone who cares for you, and who will never judge you, even if you’re afraid that they might. But they can only help you if you let them.”

She might think that, but I knew that it wasn’t true. Every single time I’d tried to touch a subject like this with Nate, all I had gotten back from him was pretty much a “welcome to the club.” And I hadn’t just signed up for this—I’d done my very best to throw myself right into the thick of it. Looking back, it was so obvious why he didn’t want me to be a part of the command group. Not just because I lacked experience, and likely was too weak for this. But because he didn’t want me to have to, one day, be where I was now. Feeling responsible. Feeling guilty. Feeling like a bullet right between my eyes was not just what I deserved, but would be the only thing that could absolve me of my sins.

“No one can help me,” I said as I turned back around and left.

By the time I made it back to the command center, more people were up and going about their daily business, making it harder for me to dwell on my morose thoughts. Half of the guys were already getting their breakfast chow, so I joined them. I didn’t pay attention to what I got from the breakfast buffet, just selected something at random that there was plenty of that people seemed to avoid. It was all the same to me, so why should I care? Apparently I was alone with that view as I hadn’t yet spooned up more than a mouthful of whatever that was supposed to be when Nate sat down opposite from me and shoved a heaped plate across the table. I stared at the food with disdain—and not just because I loathed that I wouldn’t be able to taste the scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, or bacon. “Am I not even allowed to select my own food now?” I asked, not caring whether I sounded like a petulant child.

“Not if you can’t be trusted with sustaining yourself,” Nate replied, giving the bowl of rice, or whatever that was supposed to be, a critical look. “You need protein and fat, not something with a high glycemic index that your body will burn up within the next thirty minutes and then you’re back to square one. You’re welcome.”

I was tempted to point out that I hadn’t thanked him, but that was a little too petty even for me. And he was probably right, which made me feel borderline ridiculous. Rather than protest a moot point, I switched plates and started shoveling what should have been a delicious meal into my mouth. I pointedly ignored the incredulous look I got from Nate. Never let it be said that I couldn’t be reasonable—I just usually didn’t want to.

One by one the remaining members of our group sat down at our table, while the rest of the cantina filled with the Silo residents and whatever other guests they were hosting at the moment. I watched as huge, steaming pots were transported from the kitchen out into the corridors, making me guess that they were trying to provide at least some hot meals for those that were camping aboveground. I could only imagine how quickly that must be decimating the food stores. Suddenly, all those raided towns that we’d passed made a lot more sense. Maybe it had even been people from here that had cleaned them out. I didn’t put it past Wilkes to concoct a plan like that. Scavenge now as long as there was still something to find, while building up stores for when that resource ran out. Sacks of rice, flour, beans, and the like were still useable. I didn’t see him or one of his aides, so I couldn’t ask.