The Becoming: Ground Zero (37 page)

When the four of them emerged from under the trees, they found themselves in the open, in a large concrete and brick plaza that had once hosted the Olympic Games. The fountain that now occupied the space no longer sprayed jets of water toward the sky, and the entire plaza was littered with trash and debris and the remains of several bodies. Brandt saw the camouflage in which one of the bodies was wrapped, and he swallowed hard, averting his eyes. The sight didn’t do much to boost his confidence about what he’d find in the Tabernacle.

The building in question came into view, standing tall and square against the graying skies, surrounded by military vehicles and supplies. As they reached the edge of Centennial Drive, Brandt could see the thick steel chain wrapped around the handles on the front doors, undisturbed by the passage of time; once they scrambled across the street and set foot onto Luckie, he saw boards crisscrossing the large green doors, nailing them firmly shut.

“Brandt, why are the doors nailed shut from the outside?” Remy asked nervously. Cade’s head lolled against Brandt’s shoulder, and he smoothed his fingers over her thick hair. “Doesn’t that usually mean it’s full of the infected?”

“Usually,” Brandt agreed as he made a beeline for the building. “The military did it on purpose, so people would think that it was full of infected and stay out.”

“So how do we get in?” Gray asked. “I don’t happen to have a crowbar on me anymore, you know.”

“Just follow me and keep your damn mouth shut,” Brandt ordered, making for the left side of the building. The entire back end of the structure, complete with most of the white building attached to the back of it, was fenced in with sturdy-looking chain-link fencing; coils of barbed wire rimmed the top of the entire fence line. Brandt carefully passed Cade into Gray’s arms before squinting at the fence, trying to figure out how to get them inside. Normally, he’d get them up onto the dumpster blocking the gate where bands used to enter the backstage area, since that portion of the fence had less barbed wire on it than the rest, but considering Cade couldn’t climb onto the dumpster at that point if he paid her to, the plan was dead in the water. He contemplated lifting Cade over. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it was a chance he’d have to take if he expected to get them all inside. No other option was acceptable.

Brandt made sure his sidearm was still secure in its holster before he hauled himself onto the dumpster, digging his feet and hands into the diamond-shaped links on the fence and dragging himself up. He climbed, hand over hand, foot over foot, to the top of the fence, then straddled the metal pole at the top, careful to avoid the sparse barbed wire, and slung himself over, dropping to the pavement on the other side. He landed hard on the ground, his knees jarring painfully. He shook the pain off and got busy, making short work of the gate. Then he flung the gate open and scrambled back onto the dumpster, beckoning to Remy.

“Rem, get up here,” Brandt ordered, catching the young woman’s hands and lifting her onto the dumpster as her feet tried to find purchase on its slick metal side. “I need you on the ground so you can help catch Cade when I pass her over, okay?” Remy nodded and scrambled down the other side of the dumpster, looking around cautiously as Brandt motioned to Gray. The young man nodded and eased Cade up higher, and Brandt hooked his hands under Cade’s and lifted. The muscles in his arms bulged from the awkward attempt to lift the woman to the top of the dumpster, and she groaned faintly as he settled her down beside him.

A wave of nausea washed over Brandt as he set Cade down, and he closed his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath and clenching his teeth.
No, not now,
he thought, shaking his head as he braced his hands against his knees. He bowed his head, breathing through his nose and trying to quell the sick feeling swimming in his gut. He let a slow breath out through his mouth as Gray spoke up quietly.

“Brandt, are you okay, man? You look a little … peaked,” Gray observed. Brandt opened his eyes to look down at the young man and discovered a deep frown on his face. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Since when you been British, Gray?” Brandt replied, turning to the task at hand as his nausea subsided. “I’m fine. Just tired is all. Get your scrawny ass up here so you can help me lower Cade down.”

Gray scrambled onto the dumpster obediently, taking a moment to stand on its edge and study the parking lot around them. Brandt could almost read the other man’s mind: the lot was too cluttered; too many cars and boxes and other assorted detritus offered too many places for the infected to hide. Gray grimaced and turned his eyes onto Cade, and the two men lifted her up with minimal infliction of pain and slowly lowered her to Remy’s waiting arms. The thin woman nearly dropped Cade as she grasped her, and it was only through Brandt’s quick intervention that the Israeli woman didn’t hit the hard pavement and gravel beneath Remy’s feet. Once the four of them were on the same side of the fence and the gate was secured once more, Remy looked to Brandt expectantly.

“Well, now what?”

Brandt lifted his head and let his eyes travel up the rusty red metal fire escape staircase winding up the side of the building, all the way to the roof. He nodded toward the building and scooped Cade up into his arms once more. “Now we go inside.”

The interior of the Tabernacle was dark and, quite frankly, a little scary, but Gray sucked up the uneasy feeling the building gave him and eyed the floor far below them. The fire escape had disgorged them at the highest point of the highest balcony in the place, and Gray swallowed hard as he squinted at the floor. He didn’t do well with heights, and he was very drastically reminded of this as he stood, knees quaking in his jeans, back flat against the wall. Brandt shone his flashlight down below, where folding tables and chairs lined the hardwood, littered with papers and equipment. Brandt seemed completely unperturbed by how high up they were. The fact made Gray more than a little jealous. He shifted his grip on Cade and swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves and find his resolve.

Brandt glanced at him and then hurried along the backside of the balcony, ducking through a large, dark doorway. Gray swore softly, hesitating before carrying Cade to the door, Remy following close behind. Cade was becoming a dead weight, and Gray’s arms were tiring. He wanted desperately to put her down and rest his arms, but it seemed he’d have to descend two flights of stairs before he could make that happen.

Brandt was already at the bottom of the stairs when Remy and Gray finally reached the first floor. The older man shone his flashlight around their immediate vicinity, watching for dangers as he waited for them to join him. He looked up with a wry smile as Gray thumped down the last few steps. “Sorry. I forgot I was supposed to take Cade off your hands when we got inside.”

Gray shrugged nonchalantly as Brandt scooped Cade easily out of his arms. “No big deal. I could handle it,” Gray said, lying through his teeth. He followed Brandt into the large, open area that made up most of the first floor, the same area lined with the tables and chairs he’d seen from above. Remy was right on his heels, oddly silent as she breezed into the room. Brandt carried Cade close to the performance stage and settled her into a folding chair, holding onto her shoulder to make sure she’d stay steady before he climbed onto the stage.

“What’s all this?” Gray asked, following Brandt onto the stage. He motioned for Remy to stay with Cade before hoisting himself onto the platform, wincing as the pain in his arms radiated through his shoulders.

“Radio, mostly,” Brandt said. He started fiddling with cords and cables, shoving his small flashlight between his teeth and following a cord down a set of steps and out the backstage door. Gray wondered at the wisdom of allowing Brandt to go outside alone, but then the older man was back, prodding at switches again.

The radio’s lights flickered on, and a quiet burst of static emitted from the speaker. Excitement rippled through the group. Even Cade looked slightly more alert, sitting up an inch straighter for a moment before slumping back over, more conscious than before, though that wasn’t saying much. Gray dropped off the stage and went to Cade, kneeling beside her and gently pushing her shirt and jacket aside to examine her wound. He didn’t know much about emergency medicine, not like his brother had, but he’d seen Theo treat and talk about wounds enough that he felt confident enough to figure out what needed to be done.

Brandt sat heavily in the metal folding chair before the table and began to twist knobs, searching for someone, anyone who would answer and possibly come to their aid. It was the most important moment they’d experienced since the Michaluk Virus made its appearance, and they were all heavy with that knowledge as their eyes followed Brandt’s every move. He twisted a few more dials, and Remy tentatively spoke up.

“Brandt, have you found anything yet?” she asked. Brandt waved her off and grabbed a pair of headphones from the crate beside the table, jamming the plug into the radio’s output port and slamming the headphones onto his head. He hunched over the radio, focusing on it and tuning the rest of them out. Gray sighed and shook his head, returning to his examination of Cade’s wound.

“How does it feel?” Gray asked Cade. He tugged at the medical bag Remy still wore, trying to get the woman to move closer to him. The tape holding Cade’s bandage on had come loose in the group’s desperate dash for the Tabernacle, and the bandage needed to be reapplied, if only to help staunch the blood that still oozed from the wound.

“Very painful,” Cade replied. Gray gently pulled the rest of the gauze and tape away from her wound, and Cade gripped the edge of the chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “It’ll need stitches,” Cade added weakly as Gray wadded the bandages up and tossed them to the floor. “We’ve got to close the wound so nothing gets into it and gets it infected, if it hasn’t already.”

“I hate that fucking word,” Gray muttered. He dug several large squares of gauze out of the bag and wiped at the blood trailing down Cade’s side again.

“I said a lot of words,” Cade said, breathless with the exertion of talking. Gray took out more fresh gauze squares and pressed them firmly to the wound, prompting a low groan of pain. “Which one are you so full of hate for?” she added after a moment.

“Infected,” Gray answered. “It’s just so fucking … I don’t know. Ominous or whatever.”

“Yeah, it’s taken on new meaning in the past year, hasn’t it?” Remy spoke up. She straddled another chair just behind Gray and watched him work on Cade’s side.

“You’re telling me,” Gray muttered as thoughts of his older brother flashed through his mind. “Infection” was the last word Gray wanted to hear, especially after what Theo had been forced to do. Theo’s choice had been better than living like one of the bastards that killed Ethan and Nikola and infected Theo in the first place, though, Gray reminded himself yet again. It was the only comfort he could offer himself.

Remy put her hand on Gray’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Gray’s hands stilled, and he bowed his head, drawing in a shuddering breath as emotions welled up in his throat. Cade rested her hand loosely on top of Remy’s in solidarity, and Gray lifted his head enough to give both women a grateful look, even as he blinked back the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Gray would have to deal with Theo’s death later, maybe after the military had come to get them, as Brandt kept insisting would happen. If it did,
then
Gray could mourn.

There was a thud from the stage. Gray and Remy both startled and whirled in that direction, prepared to face anything coming their way. But it was only Brandt, grabbing for the radio’s microphone and mashing the broadcast button, talking quickly into it.

“This is Lieutenant Michael Brandt Evans with the United States Marines. Who is this?” As he spoke, he hunched over and pressed a hand against his headphones, listening intently. Gray finished wrapping Cade’s wound and stood, moving to the edge of the stage to watch.

“Let me speak to Major Bradford. I need to speak with him ASAP,” Brandt demanded. His eyes were intense as he clasped the microphone tightly. There was a long pause, in which Gray exchanged an uncertain glance with Remy.

“Major Bradford, this is Lieutenant Michael Brandt Evans, formerly stationed at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia,” Brandt said into the microphone, digging his fingers into the edge of the table. Gray raised an eyebrow at Brandt’s words, turning his eyes fully onto Remy and mouthing,
CDC?
Remy shrugged, and their attention was brought back to Brandt as he continued. “I am alive, uninjured, and uninfected. I am accompanied by three survivors, all uninfected, but one is injured and requires prompt medical assistance. I am requesting an emergency airlift from the city to a safe location as soon as can be managed.”

“Do you think they’ll send help?” Remy murmured. Gray swallowed hard, watching as Brandt continued his conversation with the presumed Major Bradford on the other end of the radio.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Gray admitted. “But I think Brandt’s hanging a lot of hope on it, so I really do hope they will. He won’t be too happy if they decide not to.”

Brandt’s tone dropped so neither Gray nor Remy could make out what he was saying as he alternated between speaking and listening. Gray glanced back at Cade worriedly, wanting to get her take on the possibilities, but she’d resumed her slumped posture in her chair, exhausted beyond her physical abilities, her eyes closed and her head bowed. As he took a step toward her, Gray finally made out four simple words that told him everything he needed to know.