The Becoming (32 page)

“How is it?” Brandt asked, examining a bullet he held between two fingers. He squinted at it, closing one eye to bring it into focus, and Cade stifled a laugh at his facial expression.

“I think it’s twisted,” she said. Some of her hair had slipped out of her ponytail, and she pushed the loose strands back from her face as she wrinkled her nose. “It hurts like hell, but that’s to be expected.”

Brandt flipped the bullet into the air like a coin, then caught it and snapped it into the magazine in his other hand. “How long before you think you can run on it?” he asked. He slid the magazine into its handgun and holstered the weapon at his side.

“I don’t know. Maybe three days?” Cade guessed. “But we can’t stay here that long. No water, no food. Minimal security. In a word, we’re fucked.”

“Indeed,” Brandt agreed. He turned his attention to his bag and pushed its spare contents around. He pushed aside a thick wrap of rope, coiled tightly and shoved into the bottom of the bag. He checked for food again, peering beneath the rope, as if something edible might magically appear where there had been nothing before. “However, the technical term is ‘in the shit.’”

Cade chuckled and pulled her pant leg back down. She started the task of tucking it into her boot again. “I do believe I’ve heard that one before,” she said. “Once or twice, anyway, when I was in Israel.”

Brandt smiled and slid off the desk to go to the window. He brushed the blinds aside to look out at the street below. The fire from the destruction of the RV had burned out half an hour before, so the street had fallen into darkness again. He squinted as he tried to make out any finer details, but it was too dark. Most of his planning would have to wait until morning; what they did would be contingent on where the infected were, and if he tried to plan without knowing, he’d have to wing it again. And
that
hadn’t worked out so well last time.

“You’re still pretty pissed at me, aren’t you?” Brandt asked suddenly. He’d noticed a frigid tinge to Cade’s voice throughout their entire conversation, and it had begun to bother him. He hated people being angry with him if it was something he could fix. He turned away from the window and dropped the blinds; they swayed, banging together for a moment before going still.

“I don’t know, Brandt. What do you think?” Cade asked. Her voice was smooth and steady, but a heavy undercurrent of anger lurked beneath her words. “I’m pretty ticked, yeah. But right now, I’m trying to not focus on that. We’ve got more important shit to deal with. Like how in the hell we’re going to get out of here.”

Brandt blew out his breath in a hint of relief and nodded. “Exactly. I figure we’ll have to wait until dawn before we start planning anything. It’s too dark right now.” Cade raised an eyebrow as she realized he was studying her, and she propped the foot of her uninjured leg against the edge of the desk and started rocking the chair slowly as she continued to stare back at him in silence. Brandt was unnerved by the blank look in her light blue eyes. He fought against the urge to fidget as he looked back at her; her look made him feel like a five year old facing down a teacher after doing something bad. When she’d stared him down long enough, she averted her eyes to the dirtied bandage wrapped around her right hand.

“So. We need a plan,” Brandt said after the moment had passed. He leaned against the wall beside the window and crossed his arms over his chest. “At least, we need a plan for right now, anyway. Got any ideas?”

“Hmm,” Cade hummed. She tilted her head back to look up at the speckled white ceiling tiles. “How much ammo do we have?”

“Not enough for much of anything,” Brandt admitted ruefully. “Maybe enough to make a run for it, but I can’t say for sure. We left all of our good stuff in the Jeep.”

Cade hummed again. She made no comment as she continued to contemplate the ceiling, pushing off the desk with her foot as she methodically rocked her chair. When Brandt finally grew impatient, he demanded, “So what’s the plan, Cade?”

Cade shrugged and hissed through her teeth. “Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you give me all your guns and go out the front door as a distraction while I sneak out the back and get out of here?”

Brandt blinked. “Wow, you really
are
mad at me.”

Cade slammed both of her feet to the floor and rocked her chair forward. She barely winced as her twisted knee was jarred by the action, but Brandt definitely flinched at the pen that flew at his head with surprisingly good aim. He raised an arm to block it before it put one of his eyes out. “No, you
think?
” she snapped. “No wonder the fucking quarantine of Atlanta pissed all over itself if people remotely like
you
were in charge!”

A silence fell over the office as Brandt and Cade stared at each other. Brandt didn’t dare say a word. Whatever defense he could mount would be shot down by Cade in a fit of anger—if she didn’t just shoot him first. He pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on, and his supply inventory had already told him there was no aspirin to be had. Finally, he repeated, “We need a plan.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Got one?”

Brandt pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, massaging in slow circles. He was sure that within the hour, his skull was going to split open. “Jesus, just give me a minute. Let me think,” he grumbled.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Cade groaned. She dropped her head back against the headrest of the chair and covered her face with both hands. When she continued, her voice was muffled. “Please, please,
please
don’t do that.”

Brandt shot Cade a dirty look, but the woman didn’t notice, hidden as her eyes were. He huffed out an irritated sigh and turned to look out the window again. “You’re sort of right,” he conceded.

Cade dropped her hands to her lap with a thump. “And you finally admit the obvious,” she said with a pleased little sigh. She fell silent for a moment as Brandt attempted to study the street below. Then she leaned forward, the chair creaking with the motion, to rest her elbows against her thighs. “What, exactly, am I sort of right about?”

“The whole distraction thing,” Brandt replied.

“The distraction thing? You mean you’re actually going to run out the front door?” Her tone suggested she was joking, but only halfway. The other half just sounded incredulous.

Brandt let out a soft laugh. “No, of course not. But I definitely think we need to figure out a way to draw their attention away from the doors long enough to get out of here.”

“What we need is another RV,” Cade muttered. She started to get up, but as she put weight on her leg, she seemed to think better of it and sank back down into the chair. She massaged her knee through her jeans, gritting her teeth. “Shit, my knee hurts.”

“There’s no way you can run on that thing,” Brandt said. “We can’t even try to get out of here until your knee is better.”

“We can’t just stay here, Brandt,” Cade argued. “We don’t have any food or water, and we’re not exactly swimming in time here.” She fell silent for a moment and studied her bandage again. Then she added softly, “Ethan’s supposed to be back soon. He’s going to pitch such a fit when he finds out what happened to us.” She traced her fingers along the gauze that was tied around her hand. “You think he’ll make it back okay?”

Brandt’s expression softened at Cade’s words. “I think he’ll be fine,” Brandt said. It was all the reassurance that he could offer her. “I personally am more concerned about
us
at the moment.” He scooped his bag off of the desk and slung it over his shoulder before he started toward the office’s door.

Cade sat up straight as Brandt moved away. She looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I’m going to go find some supplies. There’s got to be a break room with some vending machines or refrigerators or something somewhere in this building. It’s about time they got busted open already. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

As Brandt stepped out into the hall, he heard Cade call out, “You know, in horror movies, the guy who says he’ll be right back is usually the first to bite it!” Brandt only laughed and shook his head before he shut the door firmly behind him and headed down the hall.

Theo looked up from his quiet, unfocused contemplation of the worn wooden floor of their latest hideout on the outskirts of Biloxi. His vision was blurred with exhaustion, and he rubbed at his eyes and blinked rapidly as he tried to clear them. He hadn’t slept properly in the two days since Brandt and Cade had gone missing. The incessant paranoia that had always lurked in the background of his mind had grown since their disappearances, and it prevented him from doing anything but taking care of Remy and keeping watch on the street from the upstairs windows. The three of them had become so thoroughly ensconced in the old house that they had begun to go stir crazy with worry and boredom.

“When are we going to get out of here?” Gray asked for what Theo could have sworn was the millionth time. Theo resisted the urge to snap at his younger brother. Instead, he shook his head wordlessly and focused once more on Remy. The young woman lay on the couch, half asleep, her injured ankle elevated on pillows. She had spent the past two days dealing with an exceptional amount of pain and discomfort, but Theo didn’t dare give her any pain medication stronger than aspirin. He didn’t know if and when the three of them might have to make a sudden escape from the house, and he didn’t want Remy to be out of her mind on pain medications if the need for evacuation arose.

Theo massaged his forehead tiredly and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He’d never have guessed that medical care would prove so difficult in the world in which they now lived. His supplies were limited; there wasn’t much he could do outside of immobilization for broken limbs and aspirin for headaches and pain. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen in a more serious situation. The small amount of drugs he had wouldn’t last forever; if he didn’t run into a scenario that required their use, the medications would expire and lose some of their potency, potentially increasing the risks of overdosing his patients.

Theo had become a paramedic with his hands tied by necessity. The feeling of helplessness didn’t sit well with him.

Theo stood slowly and pressed his hands against his lower back. He bent backwards and felt the bones in his back crack and the muscles groan with stiffness. He’d sat too long, watching Remy discreetly for any sign of discomfort beyond the norm. The listlessness she’d shown over the past day concerned him, but Gray had suggested that it was mere boredom. Gray was probably right. Theo, ever the over-reactor, stressed too much.

Theo looked at his younger brother. Gray watched him with obvious concern. He hadn’t answered Gray’s question, and the silence that hung between them was awkward and heavy. Theo cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over the hair on the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he said to Gray. “I was thinking.”

Theo could see the doubt in Gray’s eyes from halfway across the room. “You’re exhausted,” Gray argued. He eased away from the window and took a few steps toward Theo, his voice still low. “You haven’t been sleeping again. This isn’t going to be like the last time you decided to have insomnia, is it?”

It took Theo a moment to remember the “last time” to which Gray referred. If he recalled correctly, it had been a week after Plantersville had fallen, when they’d been hiding out in their parents’ home. Theo had gone an entire week without sleep and had nearly suffered a mental breakdown because of it. He’d been essentially useless before Gray had forced a sleeping pill down his throat and spent an entire night standing guard over him so he could rest. They did
not
need to be in that situation again, Theo acknowledged. It would only cause trouble for all of them.

“No, it won’t be like that,” he said in an attempt to reassure Gray. “I’ve been sleeping. Just not very well.” He glanced toward the door and then at Remy before he returned his eyes to Gray’s once more. “Any sign?”

“None,” Gray said grimly.

“Are you sure they knew where we were going?” Theo asked. The thought had crossed his mind several times. But Gray merely shook his head and sighed.

“They knew. I’m sure of it. Brandt helped pick the street himself.”

“Well, shit. There goes that idea,” Theo muttered. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and tried to decide what to do.

As the oldest present and the one with the most knowledge of essential care and survival, Theo had become the
de facto
leader of the three—a position he had neither requested nor cared to have. Theo had considered the options and had narrowed it down to two. They could stay there, where it was reasonably safe for the moment and where they’d already taken steps to seal all the entrances to the building. They had enough supplies to last the three of them for several weeks. That option would give them time to rest and give Remy time to heal, at least partially. Their other option was leaving; they could go out and try to find a better safe house farther from the city. But if they left, there would be no real way for Brandt and Cade—if in fact they were still alive—to track them down. Not to mention the fact that it was always riskier to travel when it wasn’t necessary, and Theo wasn’t sure if it was in this case.

Theo knew they had one other option, but it wasn’t one he was prepared to consider. They could go back to the scene of Cade and Brandt’s disappearance and try to find them, try to discover whether they were holed up somewhere with injuries. But with Remy hurt, it wasn’t a real choice; they couldn’t go back into the throat of danger when one of them couldn’t even run. His and Remy’s mad sprint to the Jeep two nights before had taken a lot out of the woman; the run on her busted ankle had to have been excruciating, but the young woman had done it without a complaint. Theo wouldn’t even consider asking her to do it again.