The Becoming: Ground Zero (12 page)

Brandt stepped forward and lifted a hand to run it lightly over Cade’s dark hair. Cade raised an eyebrow. “Think you got time to get up there?” Brandt asked casually, lowering his hand back to his side.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” Cade said with forced casualness. Brandt took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before he pulled away. Her hand dropped limply to her side, and her fingers curled belatedly around empty air.

“Be careful,” Brandt said. He retreated to the kitchen, gun in hand. Cade’s eyes followed him until the doors swung shut and blocked her view.

“Fuck,” Cade breathed. She shook slightly and turned away from the kitchen door. Her nerves were starting to get the better of her, and she knew why.

It was fear. Not fear for herself, because she could easily handle herself in the face of any semblance of danger. She’d done so several times in the previous year alone, and she could do it again.

It was fear for Brandt.

Cade didn’t know why she was scared for Brandt; he was at least as well trained and capable as she was, if not more so. He was the very
best
at hand-to-hand combat. He could fight with nearly any weapon put into his hand. It wasn’t like he had a higher chance of getting killed by the infected than any of the others; hell, he probably had the best chance of survival out of all of them. Despite his chances, however, the stew of emotions running through Cade hinted at a deeper reason why she was scared: It was because she was possibly a little bit in love with Brandt.

Cade didn’t want to be in love with Brandt. She didn’t want to be in love with
anyone
. Love complicated things. It was a distraction from her ultimate mission: the survival of herself and those she cared about. And the last thing she needed in the deadly world in which she lived was a distraction.

“This is so not cool,” Cade muttered grumpily. The stress coupled with her thoughts made her head hurt.

Footsteps thudded above Cade’s head; it sounded like someone was running down the upstairs hallway. Cade glanced over her shoulder. Remy Angellette hurried down the stairs, pulling her dark hair into a ponytail as she moved. She wore a pair of jeans and the knee-high boots that all the ladies adopted after Cade, a form-fitting shirt, and a black hoodie layered on top. A long bolo knife in its sheath was strapped to her belt, a weapon Remy never let out of her sight. Cade was sure the knife had special meaning to Remy, but the younger woman had never been forthcoming as to what that meaning was.

“Theo woke me up, said we’ve got company coming for dinner,” Remy quipped. Her calm tone surprised Cade; she hadn’t expected anyone to be calm—much less
jesting
—in a situation like this.

“Never fail to show up when there’s a chance to poke dangerous things with a stick, do you, Remy?” Cade asked. She kept her own voice light, though the acid in her stomach churned violently. She was going to have a raging case of indigestion after this fight.

“Hell yeah,” Remy said enthusiastically. Her attitude bordered on cheerfulness. Cade frowned and gave Remy a short look that said everything she needed it to say: If Remy got careless and ended up dead, Cade would never forgive her. Remy got the message, because she sobered up and asked seriously, “Where do you need me?”

Pleased at the change in Remy’s attitude, Cade nodded to her right. “Side of the house,” she instructed. She dug another sidearm from her bag and offered it and spare ammunition to Remy. “Don’t waste them. Where is everyone else?”

“Gray’s on the roof seeing what he can do. He mentioned something about the van. Theo’s guarding the other ladies. We figured it’s better to keep the weaker elements out of the way,” Remy said flippantly. Cade almost informed Remy that under the right circumstances, she’d easily qualify as a “weaker element.” Remy gave Cade a sarcastic salute and disappeared into the darkness to Cade’s right.

Cade shook her head and shifted her attention back to the front door. The noise on the other side had further increased in intensity. The thuds were now accompanied by scraping and scratching at the door and boards. The door creaked and groaned under the weight pressed against it. Cade sucked in a steadying breath and let it out slowly. A board cracked, and the muscles in her shoulders tensed.

“Fuck,” Cade breathed in agitation. She wiped her palms against her jeans. She hated when their safe houses were compromised and their lives put in more danger than they dealt with on a daily basis. They’d become complacent, almost careless in the long lull they’d had not dealing with a mass attack of infected. One must have followed a member of the group on their return from the last scavenger hunt; perhaps Remy wasn’t as careful as she should have been when she fought her way back to the safe house. Perhaps Brandt was less than attentive when he shouldn’t have been. Cade had no way of knowing, and at that point, it didn’t matter.

All Cade knew was that it was a matter of sheer numbers. If enough infected gathered around their safe house and realized they were there, any physical defenses the group erected would be inevitably overwhelmed. Usually they had some forewarning of an imminent attack, such as a large massing of infected in the area or the sighting of an infected scout nearby. But there was nothing. It was almost as if the enemy appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, I suppose this is as good a warm-up for Atlanta as any,” Cade muttered.

The doorframe splintered and gave way.

Cade aimed her weapon and opened fire as the infected swarmed in.

Brandt was only alone in the kitchen for moments before he heard the familiar sound of a handgun opening fire in the living room. He reflexively looked over his shoulder, but he wasn’t able to see past the closed kitchen door. Brandt positioned himself across from the back door. He could hear the infected at the back of the house, confirming his suspicion that their safe house was completely surrounded.

Hearing Cade’s gun firing only made Brandt want to abandon his post and run to help her. He hated the idea of Cade getting hurt. Cade was tough, Brandt reminded himself. She could kick ass better than most women. The only other woman who rivaled Cade was Remy, and even she didn’t quite match Cade’s skill.

If anyone ever asked Brandt—and Brandt was sure that he wouldn’t be asked—he’d kindly inform whoever would listen that he found that particular trait in a woman incredibly sexy.

The thumps at the back door grew more insistent, rattling the door in its frame. Brandt pulled his mind from Cade and backed up a step. The back door broke open under the sheer weight of the infected, and Brandt raised his weapon.

The first infected rushed in. He was a tall man with dark hair. His clothes hung loosely on his frame, torn and rumpled and bloodied. Brandt wrinkled his nose in disgust and squeezed the trigger. The bullet buried itself in the man’s forehead, and the man dropped to the tiled floor.

As the second and third infected people rushed into the kitchen, Brandt knew that this attack was too much to handle. He doubted they would be able to push all of the infected out of the safe house and build up their defenses to deflect the attack.

Their safe house was no longer safe.

They would have to retreat.

Brandt took a few steps back and pressed against the living room door. He fired four more bullets. Three more infected fell to the floor; their bodies blocked the space between him and the back door, buying him a few precious seconds to push the door behind him open with his foot.

“Hey, Cade?” Brandt called. Snarling hungry growls came from the infected in response. Brandt shuddered at the sound.

“Yeah?” Cade called back to him. Her voice sounded stressed and angry. Despite the tone, a flood of relief washed over Brandt. He knew Cade was fine, as he could hear her firing her weapon. But hearing her voice put her on a whole new level of okay in his mind.

“I think we’ll have to blow it,” Brandt warned. He shot down one more infected with a well-placed bullet. Then he backed into the living room and pushed the door shut. He dragged a heavy armchair into position to block the door. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it would be sufficient to delay the infected, buying them the few minutes they needed to get to safety.

“Think so?” Cade asked. She shot one of the infected through the throat, following with a second bullet to the head. Brandt raised an eyebrow, impressed with Cade’s nonchalance. Her adrenaline must have been pumping hard. “Remy and Ethan are both down here,” she told Brandt. “I haven’t heard anything from either of them, but I don’t think these bastards broke in through the sides, so they’re probably fine.”

“Yeah, no doors,” Brandt agreed. He jogged down the hall toward the office. “Ethan! Remy! We’ve got to go!” he yelled out, hoping Ethan could hear him from the office.

Then Cade’s gun stopped firing. Brandt’s eyes widened, and he whirled back around, his heart pounding in his chest. “Cade?”

“I’m out!” Cade yelled. Two shots rang out before Brandt reached the living room. Much to his relief, Remy had joined Cade, taking up fire in the Israeli woman’s place. Cade stood behind Remy and reloaded her handgun. Ethan joined them moments later, firing a couple of shots of his own as Brandt glanced at the top of the stairs. Theo was there, Nikola and Avi several feet behind him. Gray was nowhere in sight. All three were armed.

“Theo, we’re coming up in a minute,” Brandt warned, breaking away and heading toward Remy. He took up position beside her and called out over her gunfire, “Get up the stairs! You and Ethan!”

Remy knew better than to question Brandt’s orders. She grabbed Ethan’s arm and pulled the man to the staircase. Brandt began to follow, but he stopped as he caught sight of Cade. She was dodging between two of the infected to grab a heavy black duffel bag from the coffee table.

“Jesus, Cade!” Brandt yelped. “You got a death wish? Come on!” He aimed his gun and fired a single shot, taking down an infected woman that almost had her hands on Cade. Cade realized the level of danger she’d put herself in and bolted to Brandt, slinging the bag and her rifle over her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cade said breathlessly. “I had to get my bag!”

Brandt’s panic swiftly turned to anger. “I sincerely fucking hope that whatever the hell’s in that bag is enough to risk your life over!” he snapped. He motioned to Cade with a short jerk of his arm and began to take the stairs two at a time. This time, Cade followed him, moving backward to lay cover fire for their retreat.

Brandt was halfway up the stairs when Cade let out a sudden shout. A thud sounded behind him, and his heart nearly stopped. He lifted his gun and turned, pointing it down the stairs, not knowing what to expect. As his eyes registered the sight before him, he couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped.

Cade lay on her back on the stairs. Her handgun was several steps below her, where it landed when she fell. One of the infected gripped the ankle of her left boot with both hands, and it pulled at her violently.

Brandt’s eyes widened. He adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger.

Cade cried out as she fell backwards and landed heavily on the stairs. The edge of the step above her dug painfully into her back. That was the least of her priorities, though. Cade’s gun lay below her, out of reach, and there was no way she could get the duffel open fast enough to retrieve another weapon
or
to pull her rifle free from underneath her. The infected man dragged her a few more inches toward his mouth. That was the
last
place she wanted to go.

Cade grabbed desperately for the banister. Her arms felt like they would be ripped from their sockets. She dug her nails into the wood; two of them broke painfully.

A gun went off above Cade’s head, and a bullet wound blossomed in her attacker’s shoulder. Cade glanced up for only a second to see Brandt standing protectively over her, his gun pointed at the man. But the slide of Brandt’s gun had locked back; it was empty of bullets.

“Oh God no,” Cade gasped. Brandt hooked his hands underneath her arms, even as she pulled her right leg up enough to kick the infected man in the face once, twice. She felt the crunch of his nose as it shattered beneath her boot. Cade dislodged the man’s grip enough to break free. She scrambled backward up the stairs with Brandt’s assistance, dragging herself up several steps.

As Cade retreated, the door between the kitchen and living room finally gave way. The infected pressed through the door, shoving the armchair forcibly out of the way, and poured into the main portion of the house.

“Fuck! Go!” Ethan yelled from the top of the stairs. He put a well-placed bullet into the infected man’s head, eliminating that threat. Cade regained her feet and staggered up the steps, hauling her bag with her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Brandt took her elbow supportively as they both reached the top. Ethan nodded in their direction. “Brandt, Cade, blow it,” he ordered. He began to push the rest of the group toward the end of the hall. “Theo, where’s Gray?”

“I left him on the roof,” Theo answered. “He was dealing with them from there. He might be out of ammo by now, though.”

Cade paused at the top of the stairs and took in a deep, gasping breath, trying to get enough air into her lungs. She felt like her chest was compressed in a vice. It was incredibly painful, and she had an inkling of how Gray must feel when he had an asthma attack.