Beyond Green Fields #2 - Regrets: A post-apocalyptic anthology by Adrienne Lecter

Author:Adrienne Lecter [Lecter, Adrienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-23T06:00:00+00:00

Breaking camp takes us a little longer than usual. First, we have to hash out the details of who will come into the settlement, and get them into the right equipment. That choice is easy—medic plus bruisers, so it’s Martinez, Burns, Romanoff, and me. Anyone could drag her out if the need arises, but the three of us are strong—and determined—enough to just throw her over a shoulder and run. It also makes sense from a morale standpoint—any of my people would lay their life down for her, but those three in particular without question or hesitation. I can’t take Zilinsky because she would be too obvious; plus, I need her outside to bail us out if more shit hits the fan than I can calculate—and I don’t expect to leave that settlement without a fight. I may even be the one starting it.

We start off the day in our usual marching order, but twenty miles from the settlement we stop and change into the vehicles we’ll need to be in. That leaves us all with only a single person per car, and three in the Humvee. I hate the level of exposure we have to risk this way, but there’s no way around it. The Humvee goes first, both because it now holds the most firepower in a pinch, and they would lead us if we were a protected trader caravan. All radios are off and unplugged to make sure that should they still be bugged, we cannot be traced.

Santos wasn’t wrong about the stench in the car but it’s the least of my worries as I idle along behind the Humvee. Three times we have to stop to kill shamblers, which amounts to two hours of wasted time that are grating on my every nerve. The last time borders on an excessive slaughtering match when we encounter a spread-out group that has enough individuals to form a streak, but for whatever reason they don’t seem to be on the hunt. Usually, twenty shamblers is around where things get nasty, but we butcher a good eighty of them before the road is clear once more. I’ve left the damn poncho inside the car for this but still need to clean up—traders don’t spend their time killing the undead, after all. That wastes more precious minutes. By the time we top a rise and Martinez reports in that we are five miles outside the settlement—the mark where we’ve decided to ditch the rest who will remain behind—I’m ready to blow.

We go over the plan one last time before the four of us split into the Humvee and decoy car, and over the last rise and toward the settlement we go.

There are more shamblers in the vicinity of the settlement, which is a surprise—and not a welcome one. It speaks of neglect—not something that we’ve seen much of where security is concerned. Most settlements, particularly those well guarded, have established free zones that range miles outside of their walls. This one, not so much.

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