The Becoming (14 page)

Ethan nodded and eased the door shut, resting it against the frame without closing it completely before he followed Brandt onto the sidewalk. Ethan pulled out his gun and let it hang at his side. Brandt motioned for Cade to stay silent as the two men mounted the porch steps.

“What is it?” Cade asked, keeping her voice low. She backed into the entryway to give the two men space to come inside.

“We’ve got five people—”

“Make that seven,” Ethan reported. He joined the two of them just inside the door and leaned to look down the street again.

“
Seven
people,” Brandt corrected out loud. “And they’re coming this way. There’s a high chance they’re infected. I’d just about stake my
life
on it. I don’t want to take any risks by sticking around, though. So I think it’s probably a good idea if we roll the hell out of here.”

Cade shouldered her rifle and shifted her weight to one leg. “So what do you need me to do?” she asked. She slid into a calm, unperturbed demeanor, the hallmark of her military professionalism and skill. Brandt found the ease with which she did this highly impressive, but he was also mildly disturbed by the cold, hard emptiness that seemed to slip into her gaze as she looked at him. It was like looking into the dead eyes of a shark, a conscious-less machine. It was frightening, and Brandt couldn’t help but reassess his initial impression of Cade on the spot.

There was an odd silence among the three of them as Brandt tried to connect the dots in his mind to form a plan. But the presence of the infected approaching their current position was enough to rattle Brandt back into the hours immediately after the fall of Atlanta and the memories of the pursuit he’d faced as he attempted to flee the city.

Ethan noticed Brandt’s indecision. He stepped up and took charge in the absence of any suggestions from Brandt. “Cade, go get our bags,” he ordered. “I’ll get to the car and get it started. Brandt?”

Brandt snapped out of the memories clouding his head. “I’ve got something I need to get,” Brandt said. He moved to the staircase that led to the second floor. He went straight to the master bedroom and grabbed the large duffel bag sitting on the bed. He slung the heavy black bag over his shoulder and rejoined the others. Ethan was about to step out the front door when Brandt made it downstairs, and he called out to stop him. “Bennett, wait.”

“What is it?”

“I have a better idea,” Brandt said. He motioned to the door with his thumb and turned his eyes to Cade. Her eyes were still dark and cold, and he suppressed a shiver at the sight of them. “You said you were IDF, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I was a marksman,” Cade confirmed with a short nod.

“Guard us while we get to the Jeep,” Brandt instructed. “You’re probably a far better shot than either of us.” He motioned between himself and Ethan to emphasize his point and then turned to the older man. “Ethan,
you
are going to help me get the bags to the Jeep.”

Ethan hesitated, either unwilling to take orders from Brandt or unwilling to allow Cade to take on the more dangerous of the tasks. But he nodded and took the bag the woman held. He slung it over his shoulder, adjusted the strap, and nodded to Cade. The woman gave a cold smirk and slid toward the door almost silently, her rifle up against her shoulder as she eased out the door.

Brandt motioned to Ethan and followed Cade out. He drew his own gun and paused at the top of the porch steps. Cade stayed on the porch, hovering toward the end by the railing to his right, her rifle raised and pointed down the street. Brandt looked down the street to assess the situation and saw the group of seven making their way undeniably toward them in their disjointed manner of walking. They were only two houses away. Brandt frowned and lifted his gun, aiming it at them and nodding to Ethan.

“Bennett, you first,” Brandt ordered. He waited until the older man got halfway into the street before he turned to Cade. “Wait until I’m at the sidewalk before you follow, okay?”

“Not a problem.”

“And I suppose it goes without saying that if they make any aggressive movements toward us—”

“Take them out,” Cade interrupted in a clipped tone. She flipped the safety on her rifle off. “Got it. Now go.”

Brandt looked Cade over one more time before he headed for the street. He tried to keep his movements slow and steady to reduce the risk that he would be noticed. But his effort was for naught. The seven infected people began to move more quickly in their direction. Brandt swore and gave up trying for stealth. He stopped in the middle of the street and lifted his gun to point it at the group once more.

“Cade! Get moving to the car! Now!” Brandt yelled.

Cade ran, her boots clicking on the pavement as she passed behind him and threw herself into the back seat of the SUV. Ethan was already in the driver’s seat. He started the vehicle’s engine as the infected people reached Brandt’s position in the street.

Brandt bit back a curse and aimed his gun at the nearest one, the blond cheerleader. Her blue-and-white uniform was covered in enough blood to suggest a recent kill. She had the familiar look of hunger and hatred on her face that Brandt had seen so many times in his escape from Atlanta. Brandt squeezed the trigger. A bullet slammed into her forehead and threw her back onto the road.

Brandt’s focus on the cheerleader drew his attention away from the other six for only moments, but it was enough. A tall man in a brown jacket managed to get behind him. He grabbed Brandt’s gun arm and wrenched it backwards. Brandt turned into the attack and planted his foot in the man’s stomach. He pushed the man away and jerked his arm free from his grasp. He followed with an additional kick to the man’s gut to put extra distance between them.

The housewife in sweatpants had insinuated herself between Brandt and his escape route to the passenger door of the Jeep while Brandt was distracted by the man in the brown jacket. Brandt lifted his gun and squeezed the trigger, but the teenage girl in dark clothes jumped him from behind, and his shot went wild. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and knocked his weapon from his hand. Brandt ducked beneath the teenager’s arms and hooked his foot around the back of her knee. He pulled hard and knocked her to the ground as he knelt and drew his knife from its sheath on his boot. He turned to put the housewife down with the knife, trying to step away from a hand that clutched the back of his jacket.

The familiar sharp snap of a gunshot rang out before he reached the woman. The woman jerked backwards as her head exploded in a spray of blood. She fell to the ground by the Jeep.

“Brandt! Stop playing around and get in the fucking car!” Cade yelled from above him. He glanced back and saw her standing on the back seat, her upper body hanging out of the Jeep’s sunroof. She had her rifle in hand, and as Brandt looked at her, she pulled the bolt back and released it with an ominous crack of metal. Cade gave him an unreadable look as she adjusted her aim to point the barrel at the next infected attacker.

Brandt took the opportunity Cade’s cover fire offered him to retrieve his gun before he yanked the passenger door open and fell inside. “Go, go,
go,
” he urged Ethan. He pulled the door shut hard and reached back to tug Cade down inside the car.

Ethan slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and the SUV leaped forward with a squeal of rubber on pavement. One of the infected was in the path of the car, and the thud as they ran the woman over made Brandt’s heart lurch.

Brandt dropped his head back against the seat and exhaled in relief. He raked his hands through his hair and looked at his companions. They both looked whole and healthy and reasonably together, despite the circumstances in which they found themselves. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

“Which way are we going?” Ethan asked, breaking Brandt’s thoughts. He continued to drive the Jeep down the street, his unblinking focus on the windshield.

“Go west. Toward Mississippi,” Brandt instructed. He took in two deep breaths to steady his nerves before he continued. “Let’s try Tupelo. Michaluk’s caught up to us, and we need to get ahead of it again.”

The three drove through the late afternoon and part of the evening, taking whatever back roads and even dirt roads it took to get around the ever-growing traffic jams lining almost every highway and interstate outside every city considered even somewhat major in the state. They were approaching the Mississippi state line, traveling through a small Alabama town amusingly called Gordo, when Brandt reached over and gave Ethan’s arm a gentle punch to get his attention.

“Hey, Bennett, stop at that gun shop,” Brandt said. He pointed to the short, squat white building just off the road. The gravel parking lot in which it rested was well lit. A liquor store sat beside it, sharing both building space and parking space. Ethan gave Brandt a questioning glance and pulled the Jeep into the tiny lot.

“What are we here for?” Ethan asked. Brandt unfastened his seatbelt and looked back at Cade. Her rifle rested across her knees, and she looked absently out the side window, pointedly avoiding looking at the still-dark splotch on the back seat.

“We need supplies,” Brandt replied. “You’re a cop, right, Bennett?”

“It’s Ethan,” Ethan said irritably. “Not Bennett. And yes, I am.”

“Got your badge?”

Ethan looked into the rearview mirror and made a worried sound as he saw the expression on Cade’s face. A slow smirk spread across her lips, and she shook her hair back and started to adjust her ponytail. Her expression of understanding and borderline mischievousness made Ethan nervous, and he grimaced as he turned his eyes back to Brandt.

“You already know I do. What do you need it for?” Ethan demanded, even as he leaned forward and picked the badge up off the dashboard. He closed his hand tight around it; the dull metal edge dug into his palm. He used the faint pain to ground himself and focus on not getting angry at the sneaking suspicion he felt creeping over him.

“We’re going to commandeer some guns and ammo from this shop,” Brandt explained.

Ethan gaped at Brandt. Despite his promise to himself to remain calm, Ethan nearly exploded. “That’s not even fucking—” he started. He jabbed his finger at Brandt. “That’s
robbery!
” he protested.

Cade unbuckled her seatbelt and slid across the seat to the back passenger door. “Eth, we need the weapons,” she said. “And they declared martial law, like, an hour ago. We can do this and it’s not
completely
illegal. Just in that hazy gray area.” She waved her hand in an odd motion as if to emphasize that haziness and then nodded to Brandt. “Hell, Brandt is U.S. military, so he’s been given ultimate authority to do what’s necessary to maintain the peace. That, of course, won’t happen, and I think we all know it. But my point still stands.” Cade opened the door and slid out into the cool late evening air. Then she leaned back in and added, “We’re doing this with or without you, Ethan. We just need you and your badge because civvies tend to react to police badges better than camo.”

Ethan sighed and turned the Jeep’s engine off. He grabbed his Glock from the console between the seats and slid it into its holster before he climbed out of the Jeep. “I sincerely hope you two know what you’re doing,” Ethan admitted. He circled around the vehicle to join them on the passenger side.

Brandt gave Ethan a wide grin that only served to make Ethan feel like the acid in his gut was trying to crawl up into his throat. Brandt pulled his own handgun from its place on his hip and motioned to the shop’s door. “After you?” he offered pleasantly, even as he moved toward the entrance to the gun shop.

Cade passed Ethan, her own gun in her hand. Ethan noticed that, thankfully, she’d left her rifle in the car; he was sure that her waving that thing around wouldn’t do much to keep any people inside the shop calm. She patted Ethan on the shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t look so nervous, Ethan. We’ll be fine.”

Ethan was far from reassured. “You look like you’re enjoying this entirely too much,” he commented to Cade. Brandt opened the shop’s door and walked inside. Cade grinned again and winked almost playfully as she entered the shop behind Brandt.

As they entered the shop, the old man running the register grabbed a gun from underneath the counter and brandished it, moving to stand protectively by the cash register. Ethan pointed his own gun back at the man and held up his badge. “Police,” he announced in a calm voice. “Put down your weapon.”

The old man hesitated and squinted myopically at Ethan’s badge. Ethan hoped the man wouldn’t notice that it was a Tennessee police badge and not an Alabama one. To his relief, the old man set the gun on the counter after a moment’s pause and looked the three of them over doubtfully. “What do you want?” he asked.

“The state of Alabama has declared martial law,” Brandt spoke up. He moved to the counter and picked up the old man’s gun. After a moment’s study of the weapon, he switched the safety on and tucked the gun into the waistband of his camouflage pants for safekeeping. “We’re here to commandeer weapons and ammunition.”

“You can’t do that!” The old man glared at them and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked ready to fight them off if they so much as stepped closer to him.

“We can, and we are,” Brandt said. He moved around the counter and held his hand out toward the old man. “I need your keys to the cases, please.”