The Becoming (19 page)

“What happened to your driver?” Brandt asked.

“Jonathan … he didn’t make it,” Theo said, not looking up at Brandt.

It was a statement that required no elaboration. Everyone still alive had lost someone at some point, whether it was a friend or family member or lover, and “didn’t make it” had become a catch-all phrase for all of the bad things that could happen to a person after the world went to hell. And Theo was personally acquainted with several of the bad things that could happen—not the least of which was the Michaluk Virus itself.

The silence that followed Theo’s words wasn’t uncomfortable for Theo, but Gray started to get fidgety. Theo wasn’t the only one who noticed him shifting his weight on the coffee table. Brandt studied Gray for a moment before he asked, “So what’s your story?”

“Almost the same as Theo’s,” Gray said, his voice still hoarse. He paused to clear his throat. “Except mine mostly involved hiding out in my apartment for two days. Then Theo showed up with a load of stolen medical supplies in a bag, looking like he’d been run over by a truck. We’ve been hiding out ever since, just sort of hopping between different houses and trying to stay alive.”

The renewed silence wasn’t as heavy as the previous one had been. Brandt stared at Theo intently, his eyes focused on Theo’s face as he tried to assess the man’s mood. Before Brandt could ask any more questions, however, the kitchen door slammed open. Cade stormed out and made a beeline for the staircase. Her dark hair bounced off her shoulders as she charged up the stairs, the scowl on her face making her appear entirely unapproachable. Theo recoiled as he caught a glimpse of the look in her eyes, and he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything to her.

Brandt, so it seemed, wasn’t quite as smart. He stood up abruptly and took two steps toward Cade as her feet struck the stairs. “Cade, what is it? What’s happened?” he asked.

The woman stopped halfway up the stairs and held out a hand to Brandt, palm facing out, signaling for him to stop. She shook her head, not looking down at him as she braced a foot against the next step up the stairs. “No, Brandt. Not now.”

Brandt looked lost as he held both hands out to his sides in a cross between a defensive gesture and a bewildered one. But he didn’t speak as Cade continued to climb the stairs, her footfalls heavy on each step. The three men watched in silence as she climbed, and moments after she disappeared into the darker second level, a door slammed somewhere above their heads. Gray and Theo winced simultaneously as the sound echoed throughout the house, and they frowned at each other.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with how …
loud
these people are,” Theo muttered to Gray. Theo was reluctant to let Brandt hear, as if he might offend Brandt and get them thrown back out onto the street. Theo supposed that social niceties died hard, but he really wouldn’t have put it past anyone to kick out people considered unnecessary. It was something he would have thought about doing if someone became a drag on his or Gray’s potential survival.

“I don’t like it either, but what choice do we have at this point?” Gray said in an equally hushed voice. His blue eyes flickered warily at the ceiling as the sound of pacing footsteps greeted their ears. “If we don’t stick with them, I don’t think we’re going to make it, Theo. We don’t have the supplies or the knowledge. Not on the level they do.”

Theo fell quiet as he contemplated Gray’s words. Gray was right, of course. Gray was right about so much lately, so deep and thoughtful compared to the way he’d been a mere month and a half prior. He’d matured so drastically in the past month—acting at least ten years older than his current twenty-two—that Theo often wondered where his brother had gone. Sometimes, Theo suspected that Gray and his wise words were the only things keeping him grounded throughout all the devastation they’d witnessed in such a short time.

But as Theo watched Brandt begin his own pacing in time with the footsteps above their heads, and as he watched Brandt shoot worried, nervous glances toward the closed kitchen doors, doubts began to surface. He wasn’t sure if staying with these three people was the right thing to do; he wasn’t sure if what he and Gray had to offer would be enough for these people in the face of the skills they themselves possessed.

Most of all, Theo worried that this seemingly dysfunctional group of warriors might lead to his and his brother’s deaths faster than if they were to stick it out on their own.

Ethan sat at the wooden table in the dark kitchen, fists clenched on the surface before him. His green eyes stared vacantly across the room as he tried to contain his anger. It was irrational, really, how enraged he was at Cade. Ethan had thought that
Cade,
of all people still breathing, would have understood. He had thought that she would push the issue, that she wouldn’t allow him to go alone. He had thought that he could rely on Cade to do what he needed her to do.

Instead, when Ethan had pushed, Cade had only pushed back. And then she had chosen three virtual
strangers
over the man who’d been her best friend for seven years. It blew Ethan’s mind when Cade stood there with her arms crossed, when she stared him down and said, her voice calm but edged with anger, a simple “No.”

But her refusal hadn’t changed Ethan’s mind. Not in the slightest. Now, more than ever, he was determined to get back to Memphis, to search for his wife and find out, once and for all, exactly what had happened to her when everything had fallen apart the month before. He at least owed her that much.

Ethan was still mulling this over when the kitchen door swung open and Brandt strode into the room. Ethan fought the urge to roll his eyes as Brandt walked right up to him and leaned over. He placed the knuckles of both hands on the table’s scratched surface and got as close to Ethan as he dared. “What do you want, Brandt?” Ethan asked impatiently. He didn’t have time for Brandt’s show of machismo. He had more important things to do now that he could feel his nerves easing off of their anger. He had supplies to pack and routes to plan, and he didn’t have space in his day planner for Brandt’s temper.

“What did you do to Cade?” Brandt asked. He kept his voice level and quiet, though Ethan could tell that it took some effort for him to do so. Ethan glanced toward the closed kitchen door, behind which the two men—the two
strangers
—still presumably remained.

“Did you leave them alone out there?” Ethan demanded.

“So what if I did?”

“They could be, I don’t know, robbing us fucking blind of all our supplies while you’re in here picking a fight!” Ethan snapped. He rose half out of his chair as he spoke, his hands braced against the table between them.

“And what purpose would it serve them to take weapons and gear they can’t even use or carry?” Brandt replied. He shook his head as he stood up across from Ethan. “They want to stay, and they’re staying if I have anything to say about it. They could be useful, especially Theo. He’s a paramedic, for Christ’s sake. And you never answered my question,” Brandt added, switching gears.

“What question?” Ethan asked. He sat back down heavily in his chair and balled his hands into fists again. He was stalling, and he was well aware of it. But he didn’t want to explain himself again, especially not to Brandt of all people. Talking to Cade about his plans was one thing, but Brandt? That was another issue altogether, and Ethan’s plans were none of Brandt’s business anyway.

“What did you do to Cade?” Brandt repeated in a measured tone. It was obvious to Ethan that it was taking everything in Brandt to not reach across the table and throttle him.

“I didn’t do anything to Cade,” Ethan said defensively. He eyed Brandt’s large hands as they gripped the edge of the table. He edged his chair back a few inches from the table as the other man leaned forward suddenly. Ethan didn’t care if the action made him look like a coward; Brandt was larger than he, and he wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in reach of Brandt’s muscular arms if he could help it.

“Do
not
fucking lie to me, Bennett,” Brandt snapped. Anger flared up in Brandt’s eyes like a fire burning too hotly, and Ethan swallowed hard. He’d never seen Brandt angry. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “I
know
you did something or said something to piss her off. I might have only known you two for a month, but I figured out pretty quick what Cade looks like when you’ve done something that makes her want to kill you. And she was more pissed off than I’ve ever seen her in the past month. What did you do?”

Ethan found himself unable to meet Brandt’s eyes. He tore his gaze away from the other man’s face and shifted it back down to the kitchen table. The two men sat in silence as Ethan studied the scratches on the surface, tracing one idly with his finger and wondering how it had gotten there. The family that had once inhabited the house in which they now hid had been long gone by the time they’d gotten there, and Ethan still wondered what happened to them. Just like he wondered what happened to Anna. He wondered if she had made it out of the hospital okay, if Lisa had been wrong. He wondered if she’d returned to their home and found him gone, if she was even now hiding out in their house waiting to see if he would return.

Or if she was nowhere to be found.

Ethan blew out his breath as he sensed Brandt’s eyes still on him. The younger man was patiently waiting on his answer, and it didn’t seem like he was going to give up anytime soon. Despite Ethan’s reluctance to tell Brandt anything, he sighed again and started to talk.

“I want to go back to Memphis,” Ethan started. “I need to go find my wife. I have to know what happened, because I can’t just … sit here and deal with the idea that she could be out there alone somewhere.”

Brandt nodded slowly, and Ethan was grateful that Brandt didn’t seem judgmental at the idea
and
that he didn’t seem to be about to bring up the probability that Anna was dead. “So when are you wanting us to go?” Brandt asked gamely, catching Ethan by surprise.

“Us?” Ethan repeated. He shook his head. “No, Brandt, there’s no ‘us.’ I’m not taking either one of you into that … that
cesspool
so I can look for Anna. It’s too dangerous, and I’m not risking anyone else’s lives because of what I need to do. It’s better that I go alone.”

Brandt studied Ethan for a few silent minutes. “You’re going to need a lot to get you there. Food, water, weapons. We’ve got some to spare to start you off with, but you’d do better to collect what you can on the road.”

Ethan breathed out slowly and stood. He moved toward the kitchen door, but he paused halfway across the room and turned on his heel to look back at Brandt. “I’m glad you understand,” he said. “Cade didn’t take the idea so well. She doesn’t want me to go.”

“Truth be told, I don’t want you to either,” Brandt admitted. “We need you here, for additional security if nothing else. Things are going to get more complicated with you gone. But at the same time, I understand why you feel you need to go. Cade will come around, I think, especially if you explain to her that you’re coming back. Which you will be, or I’ll track your ass down and kick it across the state of Tennessee.” He said it matter-of-factly, and Ethan didn’t doubt he would do it.

Ethan stifled a laugh at Brandt’s words. He moved to the door and pushed it open to return to the living room, Brandt right on his heels. Theo and Gray still sat in the dim room; Theo had moved to sit on the coffee table beside his brother, and Gray remained hunched on the edge of it. Gray looked a fair bit healthier; he didn’t appear as pale and stressed as he had when he’d first come in, and his breathing had become easier.

As Ethan took a moment to look at both of the men, he realized that his initial gut reaction when confronted with their presences had been completely unwarranted. Brandt was right. These two could serve some use to them, especially Theo. Ethan knew that he would feel better about leaving Cade and Brandt if he left them in the presence of medical personnel.

“So,” Ethan started casually. He shoved both of his hands in his pockets and observed the two men. The older one looked up from his quiet contemplation of the floorboards; the younger one didn’t move or speak as Ethan continued. “What can you two do for me?”

“I would think it would be obvious,” Theo said. He motioned to the heavy blue bag at his feet, its pockets bulging with medical supplies.

“Yeah, for you,” Ethan said. “What about him?” He nodded his head toward Gray, and for the first time, Gray tore his eyes away from the space on the wall that he’d been studying intently.

“I’m more useful than you think,” Gray said testily as he reached for Theo’s bag. Ethan tensed as Gray plunged a hand inside, but when the younger man only pulled out a book with a soft leather cover, Ethan forced himself to relax. It took him a moment to realize that the book was a Bible, and it was stuffed to overflowing with computer printouts. Ethan took a step closer and pulled his hands out of his pockets as Gray started to pull the sheaves of paper out of the book.

“What are those?” Ethan asked, moving to kneel beside Gray as his curiosity overcame his standoffish façade.

“Maps,” Gray said. He stood and spread the papers out on the coffee table where he’d been sitting. “We printed it all out from the Internet before it went down. Basically, each sheet is roughly five square miles of the city of Tupelo and the surrounding areas.” He took a red marker out of his back pocket and held it up. “We’ve had to move a lot, so we’ve seen quite a few of the areas that are totally congested,” Gray explained. He dropped his finger down onto one of the papers, pointing to a street that had been colored in completely with the red marker; there were some notes scribbled beside it in small print. “Perfect example. This street. It’s a no-go. There’s a pileup of wrecked cars blocking most of it, so it bottlenecks halfway down. Perfect place to get ambushed. On top of that, it’s crawling with the infected. You go through there, you’re almost guaranteed a death sentence.”