Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction (28 page)

“The plan was for you to stick with me after that,” he reminded me.

“And become a criminal on the run. I remember that much.”

“Not that different from how things are right now,” he said. “But we could have hidden somewhere for a few weeks. Not saying I had that many connections, but I knew people who knew people. A couple months on a tropical island in a territory with no extradition treaties? Not that hard to pull off.”

“You would have gotten bored within a week,” I griped.

“Two weeks, maybe,” he agreed. “For the first one I would have come up with something to keep myself busy.”

“If I felt like forgiving you for pulling that number on me,” I reminded him. “You do realize that I never got to lay into you as you deserved?”

“Zombie apocalypse trumps hurt sentiments, eh?” he guessed, chuckling.

“Something like that,” I admitted.

“Still. Sometimes I wish I could just pluck you up and keep you somewhere safe,” he resumed his previous point. “Where no one’s out to kill you. Rape and dismember you first—or was it the other way round?”

“Stop it,” I complained. “That one’s getting old.”

“Whatever. You get my point. I know that you can take care of yourself. That you don’t strictly need me anymore. Which is a good thing, because as much as it strokes my ego that you want me around, I’d rather have you self-sufficient than depending on me. But there are days when I just hate the fact that I can’t give you that. That I can’t make it all go away, even for an hour.”

“Wouldn’t you say that we’re pretty safe here?” I asked.

“They did a good job with their defenses,” he admitted. “But there will always be idiots behaving like idiots. And there will always be the risk of infection. Or you’ll do something incredibly stupid just to spite me, and the rest is history.”

“Glad you have such a high opinion of me.”

“Remember, I’m still sticking around,” he replied.

Our conversation trailed off there, yet I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, he was still sticking around. As was I. And that wasn’t going to change, even if sometimes he drove me up the walls with his recalcitrant ways.

“So no going back to the bunker,” I surmised. “There’s no jacuzzi there so who cares?”

That got me another laugh, and we spent our remaining time soaking in silence.

And once we were back in the other room, we didn’t really talk much, either. Because that we could do any day. But roll around on a king-sized mattress without having to check all the time whether a random zombie was hell-bent on destroying the moment? No, talking wasn’t really what was on my mind right then.

By the time we strolled out of the whorehouse—me still kind of apprehensive, but definitely more relaxed and at ease—the sun had started to sink, but it was still hot outside. Inside, too, as air conditioning was a thing of the past. Warm water was all the luxury we’d ever get, I figured—and I realized that I was strangely okay with that. I was healthy. I had Nate—and for once wasn’t ready to bite his head off. He seemed to be feeling the same way about me as he kept one arm slung across my lower back, an unfamiliar act of PDA that I wasn’t used to. I couldn’t help but smirk up at him, which he requited with a lopsided smile and a squeeze of my hip.
 

Sometimes it was fun just being us.

We took an extended stroll across the base, swinging by the markets and making sure that all cars were back where they belonged. The other cars were all done but the Rover had another slot booked tomorrow morning. Apparently my somewhat full-frontal approach to most obstacles had done more damage than I’d thought, and the resident chief mechanic had a few ideas what to do about it. I was sure that Martinez and Andrej would have a field day with teasing me about that once someone told them, if they didn’t already know.

On the way over to the mess hall we decided to spend one of our shower tokens and get cleaned up, if with some added entertainment value. Because after spending the afternoon like that, someone needed an encore. Which would have been me, mostly, as Nate teased me as we got dressed again and continued honing in on our dinner. Sated—and with freshly washed hair, a first since Aurora—it was easy to ignore him. Like he had a reason to complain.

We heard the music long before we reached the tents that now served as a huge outdoors cantina. I’d expected rock as that was what the consensus on the radio station seemed to be nowadays, but there was definitely a lot more bass thrumming through the air. The entirety of Dispatch was still in a chaotic frenzy, but everyone not strictly working seemed to have congregated around the tents, to chat, eat, drink, and dance. Or rather, as Nate noted with a hint of derision, grind against each other, because talent didn’t seem to have survived the apocalypse. I was burning to ask him if he could actually dance, as in the ballroom variety, but wisely refrained. Chances were that, considering all his other somewhat random skill sets, he could, and the last thing I needed was for him to tease me because I couldn’t waltz in combat boots. I couldn’t waltz in heels, either, but he didn’t need to know that.

We were almost at the tent when someone behind me called my name, which was enough to make me halt in my tracks. Even more so when it only took me a moment to recognize it as Jaymie’s voice. True enough, the quirky girl stepped out of the mass of people, pulling another woman along behind her. She was a little older than Jaymie, and not quite that exuberant, but they looked alike enough that I guessed that she must be her sister, Tamara. Jaymie confirmed my guess when she introduced as, giving Nate a shrewd look.

“That smile tells me I don’t stand a chance,” she finished with, smirking.

Nate glanced sideways at me briefly, but that was enough to let me know that I was busted. Not that I’d actually done anything. Damn, I hated it when he did that. “What did I miss?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Tamara, still trying to overcome the shock of meeting us—Jaymie had mentioned that she’d apparently been really excited about it—rounded on her sister, squinting angrily at her. “Jay, what did you do?”

Jaymie had that innocent look down pat. “What? Why should I have done anything? You hurt me.”

Her sister didn’t buy it. “I know you. And I know that look. I can’t believe that you actually came on to her! How can you do something like that?”

Nate’s beginning smirk deepened, earning himself a scoff from me. “Your fault if you leave me standing on the tarmac like that. Not that anything happened. We were just flirting, is all.”

“The fact that you feel the need to defend yourself is very telling,” Nate surmised.

Jaymie’s laugh was definitely agreeing with him. When his gaze skipped from me to her, she shrugged. “I don’t think she really meant it, if that’s what you need to hear to save your manliness. She got all awkward and red in the face. Really cute. Did make me wonder if she flushes like that when she comes, too.” She paused for a moment. “Does she?”

Nate opened his mouth to reply, but I did my best to cut him off before he could. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Always,” Jaymie enthused, but dropped the point when her sister seemed ready to slap her.

Turning to me, Nate’s grin widened. “It’s so like you that it takes you what, all of an hour to find the one woman on the entire base who has the same whacked-out humor like you?”

“More like ten minutes,” I confessed, but couldn’t just let this slide. “You know, if you hadn’t left me standing there, fuming, things might have gone down differently.”

My words didn’t faze him one bit. “It’s not my fault that you deliberately misunderstand every single thing I say. Besides, wouldn’t be the first time for you to cheat.”
 

That made me gulp like a fish on land. “You did not just say that.”

“Did, too,” he replied, then turned to the others. “It was nice meeting you, but I’m hungry, and I have absolutely no idea what the other idiots I’m supposedly responsible for have been up to in the meantime. Why don’t you join us for dinner? That is, if Bree’s going to talk to me again before midnight. Booze might help.”

“We already ate,” Tamara offered before her sister could say something, but that didn’t hinder Jaymie much.

“We’ll join you later then,” she promised. “Now I really wanna dance.”

My stomach growled, but considering how much I’d stuffed my face with at lunch, not even somewhat extensive exercise afterward had managed to burn it all up yet.

“That’s a hell of a good idea,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Nate. “I’ll find you later, I’m sure. Unless you wanna join?”

His smile let me know that he wouldn’t let me live it down if I actually got offended at him for his barb, but he shook his head. “You ladies go have some fun. I’d rather get drunk in the meantime.”

That surprised me a little. “Can you actually get drunk?”

He shrugged. “Why not find out?” He nodded at the other two and turned around, leaving me staring after him. Typical.

Jaymie, looping her arm around mine, pulled my attention to her. She was smirking after Nate, her gaze just as shrewd as before. “So you cheated on him? I’m starting to think I have a chance.”

I shook my head, chuckling, but not in straight-out denial. “No. I cheated with him on my girlfriend. So he’s really not the one to throw stones.”

“Did he know? About her, I mean?”

“He did. I wouldn’t even put it past him that he had his pet hacker hack our electronics so he could watch. It’s complicated.”

Jaymie seemed ready to demand a more in-depth explanation but her sister started pulling her into the mass of people. “I don’t even want to know,” Tamara said. “It’s just great to see you two bicker in real life just as much as on the radio. Come on, let’s dance.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I offered, but let myself get dragged along. Tomorrow I would likely regret this, but tonight? Tonight I was going to have some fun.

Nate had been right in one aspect—what we, and everyone else around, did had nothing to do with dancing. No one seemed to care, though. It was great to just get lost in the music and the mass of gyrating bodies. Contrary to any guy I’d ever flirted with, Jaymie kept her hands to herself, but probably just because of her sister’s scrutiny. I didn’t mind. That way I didn’t have to discourage her. And I felt a lot less weird about what I was doing—or what any of the guys would say if they found out—when I bumped into Taylor and Clark about an hour after we’d thrown ourselves into the thick of the fray. Apparently, only Nate was such a spoilsport.

Eventually hunger won over, and the girls and I set out to find my group. It was easier than I’d thought, as almost everyone was sitting around a huge folding table, including the better part of the Chargers. That I brought company seemed quite appreciated, and Burns happily shoved Martinez, Charlie, and Jason further down the bench so we could slide in next to him. There were several pitchers of something that might have been beer in the middle of the table, and I readily polished off a glass when Burns handed it over. It was definitely not beer, and I thought I tasted tequila and vodka in the mix. I didn’t care—and it didn’t taste bad—but I was definitely not going to stay sober after this. That seemed to count for almost everyone present, judging from the catcalls and applause my action drew. Oh, well. At least there was food, too. Heaps of grilled chicken, ribs, and something that might have started out as burgers. All delicious. While my brain still rebelled at the idea of flame-kissed meat, my stomach overrode that concern as soon as the first tasty morsel hit my taste buds. Adapt and move on—my new motto in life, still going strong.

Jaymie kept chattering about what else we’d been missing out on besides the food, with regular interjections from her sister. I couldn’t help but grin across the table at Nate, proving that whatever that brew was, it was already getting to my head. I should have been scowling, but I just didn’t have it in me. Everything was great right now, and him teasing me before was not getting between me and my good mood. Increasingly better mood as I jugged down a second and third glass in quick succession. Let him spend the evening, as usual, with Andrej and Pia, discussing what those three felt like discussing. Probably the not-beer, judging from how Andrej kept decimating the otherwise untouched pitcher in front of them. Of course the Ice Queen wasn’t getting wasted like the rest of us. Andrej clearly kept making fun of Nate, until he finally caved and got himself a glass, too.
 

People kept coming and going from the table—getting refills, taking a leak, disappearing for maybe more nefarious reasons, or not. Even away from the impromptu dance floor outside it was loud enough here to make conversation across the table hard, so I mostly chatted with the girls and Burns. I couldn’t say what made me notice the tall, blonde woman, her hair barely touching her shoulders, as she approached the table. Probably what Nate called situational awareness. She didn’t stagger so she wasn’t drunk, and she had no problem weaving through the revelers. Her clothes were nondescript but she carried herself with that sense of purpose that screamed soldier. Or maybe that was just my bias when it became clear that she was aiming for our command group, more specifically Nate. Andrej noticed her but didn’t react, and the Ice Queen was too busy berating Jason about something to look up. Nate was listening in on that conversation, but turned around when the woman stopped behind him.

“Capt. Nathaniel Miller. The last person I expected to run into here. Or maybe not,” she said, her voice firm and loud enough that she didn’t have to scream.

I tried to remember if anyone in the last year had ever referred to Nate by his former military rank. Judging from the slightly derisive twist that came to his mouth, he was’t too happy about it. At least he didn’t ogle her rack but kept his eyes on her face.