Green Fields (Book 3): Escalation (11 page)

That was something I just had to ask about. “How can you tell that they started to eat each other? Those bones could be from non-zombies, too.”

Nate shrugged. “Unlikely. A few here and there, yes. But over there in that ditch are at least twenty skulls. I doubt that out here in the middle of nowhere they found that many of us, and in one place. It’s much more likely that once food ran out, they started culling the herd. That way, the strong would survive, with no weak to slow them down.”

Just one more fact about zombies that endeared them to me so much more—but at the same time, it kind of was good news.

“Do I get this right—this means that we basically just have to wait them out until they have eaten the last shambler out there?”

“Not sure it would work quite that smoothly, but yeah. If this continues, sooner or later it’s a problem that will take care of itself. Likely not in our lifetimes, considering that with less human predation, the wildlife will explode all over the country, thus further feeding the zombies. But eventually, they’ll be so few and far between that they’re no longer the scourge of the Earth. We just have to keep them from generating more along the way.”

It was strange to see such a bleak idea as a glimmer of hope on the horizon. But we were easily decades away from that point, so what sense was there in dwelling on that?

“There are signs of scavenging here, too,” he noted as he got back in the car and signaled me to drive on.

“Like what?”

“Someone’s been disassembling stuff. There are also tire tracks that are less than a week old. My guess is, someone’s building a fort or something.”

“And where?”
 

Nate gave me a look as if I’d asked a rather stupid question. “How the fuck should I know? I can only tell you that something between three and ten heavier cars drove by here since the last heavy rainfall, which was likely sometime during the last week. They didn’t leave us cute little notes with where they’re staying.”

I didn’t reply, too used to being chided like that. It had been a rather inane question, true. Still.

We drove on for another five miles or so until I stopped again, this time to take in the view in front of us. We’d been driving through prairie most of the day, but now we’d reached the beginning of the Badlands, reddish rock formations rising in front of us. Of course I’d seen them on TV before, but from up close they were even more stunning. It was easy to imagine the water runnels carving valleys into the softer layers until nothing but the harder parts were remaining, erosion at its best. Even now, the light wind blowing tendrils of my hair into my face made it easy to imagine how the forces of nature were continuing their work.

But what was even more impressive was how utterly congenial the rocky hills turning to mountains were for hiding, particularly from foes that weren’t the most agile in navigating the terrain. All that constant up and down left a million places to hide and take cover, or simply disappear in a nearby valley. A whole horde of zombies could likely pass by just a hundred feet away and never be the wiser of someone crouching there, scared shitless yet safe. Bo’s explanation why so many people had fled to the national parks all around the western part of the state suddenly made a lot more sense. If I’d been living in the city and had known this existed, I’d have made my way here, too.

Yet as beautiful and terrific the terrain was for hiding, even here at the outskirts it was obvious that the area the Badlands spanned was gigantic, at least in a world where walking on foot was a viable option of transportation.

“Just how shall we find someone in here who doesn’t want to be found?” I asked, still scanning the hills for signs of human habitation.

“We don’t,” Nate explained. “They will find us.”

“And if not?”

He gave a noncommittal grunt. “Would you tolerate a bunch of armed strangers on your doorstep?”

I shook my head. “No way.”

“I bet you a bag of jerky they won’t either.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to take him up on that, instead getting into the car again.

Over the course of the next three hours, we didn’t see any—absolutely any—sign that anyone was here. No tracks, no broken-down cars, no parts, and also no corpses. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was so different from
Before
, but figured that a region that relied so heavily on tourism would never have been that deserted. Now it felt like we were the first humans to walk this moon landscape.
 

We made camp at one of the parking lots, watching the sun set over the plains. Exposed as we were—and waiting to be found, as Nate had explained it—it only made sense to sleep in the cars. It seemed hilariously paranoid, but so were many things that we did on a regular basis. So far the fact that we were still around and kicking boded well for our strategies.

By morning, we were still completely alone in the mountains, and I spent my part of the watch detail sitting on the hood of the car, watching the sun rise one inch at a time. With the scenery quiet bordering on idyllic, minimal wildlife scurrying around—a sure sign that there were no zombies nesting here anywhere—it was easy to forget that there were places out there that were very different. I knew that this couldn’t go on much longer, but it was nice to let my guard down for once.

Which consequently bit me in the ass—figuratively—as I was caught with my pants down—literally—twenty minutes later as I went behind a rock mound to take care of my morning business.

I had about a second to realize that the gravel sliding down behind me wasn’t caused by the wind before I heard the telltale sound of a shotgun round getting pumped into the barrel. Part of me wanted to laugh because it was such an amateur move—really, if you wanted to shoot something, you should have a round ready. Months of weapon drills took care of that, while the much greater part of me was scared shitless. Also literally, because they’d given me enough time to finish that part at least.

“Do you mind if I wipe first? Because this is kind of awkward,” I called out over my shoulder, for a second almost expecting Burns or Bates to start laughing at me—but it had been months since they’d even tried to sneak up on me, and it made no sense to do it here, with my own gun close enough that I could grab it and shoot before asking questions. Only that it was just far enough away that I couldn’t grab it. Shit. Nate was so going to have my ass for this.

Staring at my own shadow painted on the grayish-brown ground while I waited for a reply, my hair whipping into my face, I realized that I could actually see my would-be attacker, or at least the shadow he threw. Even huddled down as I was, the shadow was closer to the ground than mine, making me guess that he must be lying up on one of the hills, pointing the shotgun down at me.

I was quite surprised—and feeling kind of stupid for jumping to conclusions—when the voice that answered me was clearly female, and sounded decidedly younger than me.

“Do it. But don’t try anything funky.”

I wondered briefly why it made me feel relieved that I’d gotten caught by a girl rather than some grizzled old guy, but chose not to dwell on it. I was evidence enough that she could be just as deadly as any guy, and considering that she couldn’t be more than twenty feet behind me, I was so much dead meat if she chose to pull the trigger.

Moving with slow, deliberate motions, I sacrilegiously littered the rugged, untouched landscape before I rose. After pulling up my pants I raised my arms to beside my head, trying not to scare her, feeling kind of ridiculous for thinking that. The girl had survived not just the zombie apocalypse but the ten months after—I couldn’t fathom what about me should scare her.

“Turn around. Slowly. And leave your shotgun there.”

I did as she told me, squinting up the hill to get a good look at her. Or what I could see of her, rather. She was wearing camouflage pants and a jacket that was the exact shade of the rocks behind her, making it easy for her to hide there. Light brown eyes studied me suspiciously, the shotgun steady in her hands. Her posture was almost perfect, and I didn’t doubt for a second that she’d shoot me if I did something incredibly stupid like try to grab my gun.

Not that I could, I discovered a moment later when I shifted, and found a second girl behind me, crouching where my Mossberg had been resting propped up against a small boulder. She was younger than the other girl, her skin a rich olive color, intelligent eyes behind dark rimmed glasses studying me intently. The pistol in her hands looked too large for a girl her age, but she held it just as steadily as the other girl. And my shotgun was in the hands of a boy slightly younger than the second girl, dark eyes twinkling mischievously at me.

“Take care, that’s loaded,” I told him—not sure why; probably some stupid maternal instinct that hadn’t died completely yet, zombies or no zombies.

A bright, cocky smile spread on the boy’s face as he engaged the safety and in short order unloaded both the magazine and the chambered round. “Not anymore.”

So much for that. I swallowed my ire—directed entirely at myself—and couldn’t help but smile back. “Guess you won’t hand me that back now?”

“Not a chance,” the older girl replied, making me look back at her.

“That’s fair,” I told her, my hands still up. “You guys belonging to the folks who’re living up here? We’ve been looking for you.”

She didn’t reply, and neither did the others, just studying me with their inquisitive yet not hostile gazes, making me wonder if they were waiting for someone else.

“We’re coming in peace,” I said, not sure what else to tell them. “We met a group of people a few days ago, you maybe know them? Bo and Cooper. We camped with them one night.” Still none of them reacted, making me sigh inwardly. “Want some dried apples? I have some in my left front jacket pocket.”

The boy looked tempted, but the girl with the glasses shook her head at him, while the other girl frowned at me now.

“We’re not stupid enough to let you poison us,” she told me.

“They’re safe, promise. If you let me reach into my pocket and get them out, I’ll eat some, so you see that I’m speaking the truth.” She considered, but jerked her head to the side.
 

“No.”

I waited for more directions, but none came.

“Are you going to take me to your leader?” I asked, not sure they’d get the reference. It was hard to gauge their age, but I’d eat my panties if they were all teenagers already.

I noticed the looks the two girls exchanged, but did my best not to react. They’d clearly seen me there, helpless as anyone could be, and thought it was a good idea to disarm me. But now they had absolutely no idea what to do with me.

“Look, may I make a suggestion?” I asked the older girl. At her nod, I went on. “I expect you’ve been watching us for a while now?” Another nod. “So you know how many people we are, and that we’re all armed, with more weapons in the cars.” Again she inclined her head. “How about I go back to the others so we can all talk? You have my shotgun and I’ll keep my arms up, so you know that I can’t reach for my knife or gun. And if you stay behind me, no one can shoot at you, because they wouldn’t shoot me, right? As I said, we’ve been looking for you guys, so why not chat a bit?”

The girl was still looking conflicted, but it was the boy who spoke up.

“Ahmya, you know that Mom told us not to—“

“Shut up, you little—“ the girl hissed back, but considered. “Go get the others. We’ll stay here for now and wait. Let them decide.”

The boy nodded and scrambled down the side of the hill, and within seconds he was completely out of sight. The girl’s arms shook slightly as she shifted her grip on the gun, making me guess that between the tension and weight of the weapon, she was getting weary. I could probably have jumped and disarmed her, but didn’t see the point of it. She didn’t look ready to shoot me, but accidents could happen, particularly if I startled her. Besides, I didn’t think that I’d particularly endear myself to the locals if I kept two of their girls at gunpoint.

Then again, it was likely only a matter of minutes until someone took that decision out of my hands, and I hoped for their sake that whoever else was hiding out there was close. I couldn’t really see Nate being particularly happy about anyone keeping me at gunpoint, either.
 

And it would likely take years for me to live that down—being caught by three children while taking a dump. The joy.

My hope that I was going to be spared this particular kind of humiliation was crushed when I heard Nate clear his throat somewhere behind my left shoulder.
 

“I see we have guests,” he remarked, easing into a relaxed stance as he took the last two steps closer. His rifle was nowhere in sight, and he kept his hands well away from his hips and the holstered gun and knife there.

The older girl tensed, her shotgun barrel quivering as she tried to decide who to aim at, me or him. Nate crossed his arms over his chest, looking at her evenly before his eyes flitted to the younger girl, to finally come to rest on me.

“Where’s your shotgun?”

I felt stupid shrugging with my hands up so I didn’t, and just looked him straight in the eye as I replied.

“Obviously not here.”

“So you actually let them catch you, unaware, unarmed, with your pants around your ankles? Classy.”