The Becoming (24 page)

Ethan drew in a breath as the darkness descended on him. He fought the urge to put his hands out in front of him as if to feel his way along a wall. The sound of rattling metal on metal drew his attention to the door, and the click that followed made his shoulders and back stiffen. He imagined that the blond girl had a gun on him and perhaps planned to rob him of what little supplies he had. Loss of supplies meant almost certain death. Ethan tried not to panic as his imagination ran wild in the pitch-black darkness.

There were muffled, scuffing footsteps, and then a camping lantern flickered to life. Ethan was looking right at it, and he quickly put up a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. His vision came back to him slowly, spots dancing in his eyes, as he finally made out the figure of the blond girl. She knelt beside the lantern, adjusting the brightness down, a chagrined look on her face.

“Sorry. I forgot how bright that was,” the girl said. She stood and looked back toward the door. Banging and scuffling could be heard on the other side. Ethan followed her gaze and saw that the door was securely fastened by a heavy chain with an equally heavy padlock. “I don’t think they’re going to get through that. They haven’t managed yet, anyway,” the girl said confidently. She sounded almost cheerful about it, and Ethan couldn’t decide if he was amazed or appalled.

“Well, ah, thank you?” Ethan tried. His voice sounded harsh and rough, and he cleared his throat before he continued. “For getting me out of that mess. I didn’t think I’d get away for a minute there.”

The girl flitted her hand through the air nonchalantly. “Hey, no big deal. I’d hope you’d have done the same for me.”

“Of course,” Ethan said automatically. He crossed his arms over his chest and observed their surroundings. They were in some type of cellar—almost a crawlspace below the house, really, judging by how low the ceiling was. The floor was dirt, and it made the space smell damp and dank and earthy. The scent made Ethan feel relaxed, comforted, and the muscles in his shoulders loosened up. He shifted his hands to his front pockets and took a moment to examine the girl who, in her turn, studied him.

The girl’s blond hair lay tangled and messy over the shoulders of her dirty blue track jacket; her jeans were filthy from crawling in the dirt in the very space in which they now hid. A smudge of brown decorated an otherwise fair face, and the blue eyes set into that face studied Ethan with a wide-eyed, slightly frightened innocence that contradicted her feigned casualness. Ethan tried to guess the girl’s age. She looked horribly young; he didn’t think she was more than sixteen.

“What’s your name?” Ethan asked.

The girl tucked both hands into her pockets and ventured a small smile. “Nikola,” she answered. “Nikola Klein. I usually go by Nikki. And you are?”

“Ethan Bennett,” Ethan answered. “Formerly of the Memphis PD. Definitely not anymore.”

Nikola let out an undignified snort. “No, I don’t think so.” She paused as she looked him over again, and then she added, “I had you pegged for a cop when I first saw you out on the street.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “You did? How so?”

Nikola shrugged and rocked on her heels. “Cops, they have a certain way of walking. Kind of like military guys? It’s really noticeable.” She hesitated and then said, “My dad was a state trooper. He walked the same way.”

Ethan glanced around the dark space again. “Where
is
your dad?”

“He’s … he’s not here,” Nikola said delicately. Ethan recognized the downcast look on her face. It was then that he understood; this young girl had not just been through what every survivor had been through: the loss of someone she loved dearly. She’d lost everyone. She didn’t bring up a mother or any other relatives, despite Ethan’s questioning look, and Ethan guessed it was because she had no one left. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and hesitated before he spoke again.

“How old are you?” Ethan asked gently. “You don’t look a day over sixteen.”

“That’s because I’m fourteen,” Nikola confirmed. She broke from her stance and scooped up a backpack that rested on the dirt beside her camping lantern. “I turn fifteen this summer,” she continued. She unzipped the bag and started to rummage through it. “You hungry? I don’t have much, but I think it’s enough to hold us over.”

Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he stared incredulously at Nikola. Fourteen? She was only
fourteen?
How in the world had the young girl managed to survive unassisted for a month in the horror movie the world had become? How did she gather supplies, feed herself, defend herself against the monsters outside when they threatened her sanctuary? Where had she
been
for the past month?

“Can I ask you a question?” Ethan asked. Nikola pulled a bag of beef jerky out of her backpack and offered it to him. He didn’t take it, though; he just watched her face. “How in the hell are you still alive? How are you still even
here?
”

Nikola looked at him with an expression that was a cross between worry and annoyance. “What, you don’t think I can take care of myself?” she asked. “I can handle it. I’m tougher than I look. Besides, isn’t it just a matter of avoiding them more than anything else? And I’ve got it covered if they come near me.” She picked up an aluminum baseball bat that rested beside her pack and twirled it in her hand with no small degree of skill. “Softball, three years. I’ve got a mean swing.”

“I’m sure you do, but I don’t know how effective whacking somebody with a baseball bat is going to be if they’re intent on killing you,” Ethan pointed out. “You haven’t had to actually use it yet, have you?”

“No, but I figure that that’s a good thing.” She gave Ethan a halfhearted shrug as she shouldered the bat. “It could be worse, right? I mean, I could try using a gun and end up shooting my foot off or whatever.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Your dad was a state trooper and you’ve never used a gun before?”

“He said they were too dangerous. He didn’t want me to accidentally shoot myself,” Nikola explained. “He told me to never touch his guns, and so I didn’t.”

“We’ll have to fix that,” Ethan said. He gave a weary sigh and rubbed his face. “I don’t know how I feel about you running around out here without a better weapon than a bat.”

Nikola jumped at the sound of a particularly loud bang at the cellar door. Ethan and Nikola turned as one to look at the door. It lifted a few inches before falling shut again with another loud thud. The infected outside seemed more determined than ever to get in. Ethan swallowed nervously and gripped the holstered weapon at his side.

“We have to go,” Nikola said suddenly. She scooped up her backpack and jammed the package of beef jerky back into it. She zipped the bag closed and slung it over her shoulder, adjusting it so it rested securely against her back. “They’re going to get in sooner or later, and I don’t think I want to be here when that happens.”

“Agreed,” Ethan said. He glanced around and wondered if he should draw his gun, even as he tried to seek out an escape route in the dark cellar. “How are we going to get out of here anyway? They’re blocking the door, and I don’t like the idea of having to shoot my way through.”

“Follow me.” Nikola beckoned with one hand and grabbed the camping lantern with the other; then she went to the cellar wall opposite the door. She smoothed her hands along the wall, as if feeling for something, then let out a triumphant yelp and dug her fingers into the dirt wall, pulling at it. A square wooden door swung away from the wall, falling completely off into her hands, and she dropped the board onto the floor and set her lantern into the knee-high square that was left behind. “After you? Or do you want me to go first?” she asked.

“What is this?” Ethan asked. He was both impressed at Nikola’s ingenuity and wary of the dark space. He leaned to look down into it and saw by the light of the camping lantern that it was cramped and dark. It smelled just as dank and dirty as the rest of the cellar, if not more so.

“It used to be one of those tunnels that runaway slaves used during the Civil War or whenever,” Nikola explained. “Well, I think it was, anyway. I just know that it links to the house next door and dumps off into their cellar.”

Ethan shook off the creepy feeling the space gave him. “Thank God I’m not claustrophobic,” he said. “You go first. I’ll follow in case they make it through the door before we get to the other side.”

“Fair enough,” Nikola agreed. She scooped up the lantern and dropped to her knees. It took her only moments to disappear into the dirt tunnel.

Ethan glanced back at the cellar door one more time as it lifted up and thudded closed again. Nikola was right; the infected were dangerously close to getting into the cellar. Even if they didn’t get in right away, they would keep trying until they did, because they knew that Nikola and Ethan were both in there. He shook his head and dropped to his knees to crawl in after Nikola, following the young girl into parts unknown.

The Jeep was just shy of large enough for the four of them to sleep comfortably. Gray acknowledged this fact as readily as he acknowledged the rest of the facts with which he’d been confronted in the past month. Life had gotten as uncomfortable as the SUV in which he was now attempting to sleep, and he didn’t have a choice but to put up with it.

Gray blew out a heavy breath and rubbed the heels of his hands over both eyes. He frowned as he shifted once more in the driver’s seat. The seat was reclined as far back as he could get away with without crushing Cade in the seat behind him, but it still felt like it wasn’t enough, and his back protested the incline at which he was attempting to sleep. He fought the urge to groan as he closed his eyes again and shifted restlessly.

A light tap of a finger on Gray’s forehead made him open his eyes again. He blinked in the dim light as he saw Cade hovering over him. She gave him a little smile and leaned in closer to speak.

“Can’t sleep either, can you?” she murmured, her voice hushed in the darkened interior of the Jeep. Gray shook his head in answer, and she tilted her head to the side, indicating the door to his left. “Come on, let’s tell Brandt to get back in the car and we’ll take guard duty.”

Gray fought back a yawn and opened his door. Theo stirred in the back seat, shifting onto his side, but he didn’t wake up. Gray made a face at Theo’s sleeping form; he couldn’t deny his intense jealousy over Theo’s ability to sleep virtually anywhere, in any position. He slid out of the Jeep into the chilly garage, rubbing his hands over his bare arms before leaning to grab his jacket. Cade followed a moment later, and as she went to Brandt to send him to the Jeep, Gray tucked his hands into his pockets and took a moment to look around the building in which they’d hidden.

It was a two-car garage attached to a typical suburban family home on the southern end of Meridian, Mississippi. Gray had picked it because it was close to the outskirts of the city, in a more affluent, less populated area, and the home itself looked neat and clean. Gray had guessed that a well maintained home was more likely to have a relatively uncluttered garage that they could easily access. He had guessed right. He looked at the signs of suburban life that lined the shelves and cubbyholes and work benches around them: the pegboard full of tools, the cracked concrete floor, the weed eater and lawn mower shoved against a wall, the pile of old paint cans stacked beside them. He squeezed his hands into tight fists. The typical suburban routine that had brought all of this to life was gone, completely eradicated. The world would never again be the same.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Cade said. She emerged from the darkness of the garage and appeared at his elbow. There was a thud behind them as Brandt climbed into the Jeep and shut the door. Gray neither turned at the sound nor looked at Cade as she spoke again. “Want to talk about it?”

Gray shrugged and accepted the handgun she offered. He glanced at it to make sure the safety was on before he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I mean, I barely know you. I haven’t even known you for forty-eight hours yet, and in that time, you’ve hardly talked to me.”

“Which is why I asked.” Cade examined her ever-present rifle nonchalantly as she spoke. “I figure if we’re going to be stuck in close proximity to each other, we might as well start the whole getting-to-know-you routine, you know?”

“I guess.” Gray’s voice was doubtful. He moved to the small door that accessed the street alongside the main garage door and peeked out the inset window. He scanned the dark street warily. He couldn’t see anything lurking nearby, and so, his concerns satisfied, he returned to the Jeep. “What exactly do you want to know about me?” he asked.

Cade hummed as she slid her hand down the barrel of her rifle. “I don’t know. Just … whatever. Like, what did you do before the world went to hell?”

Gray looked at Cade thoughtfully; she hadn’t torn her gaze from her rifle as she’d spoken. “I was, ah, a mechanic,” Gray said. “Did body work, mostly. Always been really good at fixing shit.”

“Yeah? That would be pretty useful,” Cade said. She propped the rifle against her knee and pulled the bolt back. It made an ominous clicking sound that sent a disturbing chill down Gray’s spine. The muscles in his back stiffened. “You should get some of the tools in here together and load ‘em in the Jeep,” she suggested. “Never know when we might need them.”