The Becoming: Revelations (33 page)

“We’ll see what we can do,” Isaac promised. He folded the paper and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. “We should come up with a Plan B though, just in case we can’t find all the supplies you’re asking for.”

Cade nodded in agreement. “Sure, but can we do it later? I’m exhausted, and I’m pretty sure Ethan and I need more rest before we charge in and blow the bitch’s world to hell.”

Ethan snorted. “I do love it when you talk tough, Cade. Makes me think of when we used to go out to the shooting range and you’d get pissed because you missed the target.”

Cade smirked. “Ethan, my dear, sweet big brother,” she drawled out, draping her arm over his shoulders and pulling him closer. “When will you learn that I
never
miss?”

Watching Brandt work his military-style magic had been something Remy found absolutely fascinating. She’d never known anyone in the military before and had never seen a military-trained person do his thing—except for in the movies, of course. As Brandt made his way along the street, rifle in hand, eyes locked to their surroundings, he’d seemed like a whole different person. He’d led her through the tangled mess of traffic jams and garbage left behind the year before by the fleeing hordes of uninfected before the tide of the Michaluk virus. Remy was sure she’d caught a few glimpses of corpses in cars here and there; she’d quickly decided she didn’t want to think about what she had or hadn’t seen.

Brandt had snaked through the wreckage like a fox, sliding over cars with the ease of someone who did it every day, his every move almost silent. Remy had been impressed with the dexterity he’d displayed in swinging up into the back of a military cargo truck at one of the city’s many roadblocks, emerging minutes later with a spare magazine of ammunition for his M-4 Carbine and three grenades. Remy was sure the grenades would prove to be something she’d regret him finding.

Now, though, they sat on the rooftop of what Remy believed was a hotel, the morning sun shining down from a partially overcast sky as she sorted through the supplies in her and Gray’s bags. Brandt lay low on the roof, his elbows resting on the ledge surrounding the edge, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes as he studied the street running along the front of the Westin tower.

As she sorted the supplies into different piles, Remy glanced up at the skyscraper. It was perfectly round, and the sun reflected off the glass panes, making her eyes water in the brightness of the light. The building was larger than she’d imagined, so tall that if she tilted her head back to look at the top, she’d get dizzy. Despite the vertigo the building’s appearance gave her, Remy’s eyes were continually drawn to it, scanning up its sleek sides to the very top before quickly averting when her world began to spin. Brandt didn’t seem bothered by it; even through binoculars, he’d look up the tower’s sides and back down again, unfazed by the height. His lack of vertigo was enough to make Remy sort of jealous.

“Why exactly would a group of people choose to live in such a tall tower, anyway?” Remy asked, pulling a white t-shirt free from Gray’s bag. She shook it out and held it up to see how big it was and caught a faint whiff of Gray’s scent on the fabric, a scent that made a new wave of sadness wash over her. The shirt flapped in a sudden gust of wind, drawing Brandt’s attention to her.

“Put that damn thing down!” he snapped. His tone was vicious as he yanked the shirt from her hands and slammed it onto the rooftop. “Are you
trying
to get us caught or something?”

“No,” Remy snapped. She scooped the shirt up and twisted it into a tight roll, continuing her line of thought from the moment before and ignoring Brandt’s ire. “That place is huge. Why would you need something that big anyway? I mean, God, think of all the stairs.”

“Good Lord, I don’t want to,” Brandt admitted. He focused his attention back to the street in front of the skyscraper. “There’s a high chance we’ll be stuck climbing a good bit of them to hunt down Alicia. There’s no telling where she’s hiding in that damn place. Are you up for that?”

“Do I have a choice?” Remy pointed out. She slid the shirt into the bottom of her bag and started on the pile of medical supplies. It and the ammunition pile were by far the smallest; the medical supplies in particular looked almost forlorn. The lack of adequate supplies made Remy uncomfortable as she thought of all that could happen to them, but she pushed those thoughts aside and began to stuff what little they did have into her bag.

“Good point,” Brandt acknowledged. He turned his head and used his finger to adjust the focus on the binoculars. Remy finished packing her bag, putting the items she’d decided to not keep into Gray’s bag and setting it aside. She slung her own bag onto her back and crawled down the roof to join Brandt at the edge.

“You seen anything interesting?” Remy asked. She tightened her ponytail and inched closer to the edge to peer over.

“A couple of stray cats,” Brandt muttered. “That’s about it. There’s absolutely no movement down there. Not a person in sight, infected
or
uninfected. No guards, almost no animals, nothing.” Brandt lowered the binoculars. “There’s something wrong with this picture, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Do you think Duct Tape Boy back at the safe house lied about Alicia’s location?” Remy proposed. She pulled a bottle of water free from her backpack and cracked it open, taking a long swallow and offering it to Brandt. He waved the bottle off and returned the binoculars to his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted in frustration. “I have no idea what to think about this. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t absolutely nothing.”

Remy stretched out on her stomach and adjusted her pack so it rested more comfortably against her back. Then she took up where Brandt left off, searching for any sign of movement whatsoever on the ground level. As Remy squinted at the street below, her hand shielding her eyes from the sunlight, a movement between cars caught her attention. She leaned forward, trying to make out what caused it, even as Brandt took in a sharp gasp of air.

“Somebody’s coming down the street,” he told her, his voice hushed and urgent. “At a dead run. They’re headed in this direction.”

“And I think that’s an infected guy heading
their
way,” Remy said as she realized what she was looking at. Man or woman, she couldn’t tell at that distance. She grabbed Brandt’s arm and pointed out the infected. Brandt followed her arm with his binoculars, and his jaw clenched.

“The infected is going to intercept whoever it is that’s come out of that building,” he said. “It’s a black male, already injured, but I can’t make out much else.” He grabbed his rifle and backpack. “You any good with a rifle?”

“Not from very far away,” Remy admitted sheepishly.

Brandt thrust the rifle and binoculars at her and slung his pack onto his back, rising to his feet. “Cover me anyway. Just don’t shoot me. I’m going down to get that guy out of the line of fire.”

And then Brandt darted away from her, disappearing through the roof access door. Moments later, Remy heard a door open below and the sound of Brandt’s boots striking metal as he clambered down the fire-escape staircase attached to the side of the building. Remy quickly refocused her attention on the street, setting the rifle on the roof and putting the binoculars to her eyes. The world looked strange through the lenses, and it took her a moment to figure out what she was looking at and to adjust her line of sight accordingly.

The man below ran down the street with all the strength he possessed, looking over his shoulder periodically at the building he’d left. Remy took a second to follow his gaze, but there was nothing in sight, much to her disappointment. The infected was closing in on the man fast, though. Remy put the binoculars down and grabbed the rifle, resting it against the ledge and seeking the man out in the rifle’s scope. Once she’d found him, she sought out the infected coming at him from the side. To her horror, Remy realized the fleeing man had yet to notice there was an infected person even close to him. It seemed like the two were going to collide right there in the street.

Remy lifted her head away from the scope and checked to make sure a round was already chambered. She quickly relocated the infected man through the scope. She shifted the rifle just a fraction, settling the crosshairs onto the man’s torso. She thought maybe if she shot the infected man, the one who was uninfected would notice his presence and take appropriate measures. There was no way she’d manage a headshot from this distance. Before she could squeeze the trigger, Brandt burst into her line of vision, and she quickly slipped her finger out of the trigger mechanism so she wouldn’t shoot him. He leapt on top of a car and then off it, diving behind the vehicle and tackling the infected man to the pavement. There was a scuffle, and a knife flashed in Brandt’s hand, reflecting the sunlight as it came up and down several times.

Then Brandt was on his feet again, staggering up and grabbing the injured black man, tugging him in the direction of the building he and Remy occupied. He pointed, and the man seemed to understand and started to run more directly for the building, Brandt following close behind. Remy traced their path with the rifle, searching alongside and behind them for more infected, knowing that where there was one, typically there were far more. Much to her relief, Remy didn’t see anything further. She slowly sat back from the edge of the roof as she heard two sets of feet on the metal fire escape. Her shoulders ached, and she forced them to relax. She hadn’t realized she’d tensed up. She rolled them slowly and gingerly, massaging first one and then the other, as she tried to work the soreness out of them.

The door behind Remy swung open, and she started to turn as she spoke. “Man, Brandt, I am
so
glad I didn’t have to shoot this thing. It’s scary as shit.” The words had barely left her mouth before her eyes settled on the black man entering the roof just behind Brandt. She stiffened and rose to her feet so quickly it sent a dizzy spell through her head. She pushed it aside and lifted the rifle, pointing it at the man’s chest as he put a hand up defensively. “
You
.”

The man’s eyes went wide at the sight of Remy pointing the rifle at him, and he nodded his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, me,” he confirmed. Remy looked him over and noticed that his right arm was in a sling. She smirked, remembering how she’d plugged a bullet into his shoulder at the safe house.

“Dominic, isn’t it?” Remy prompted. She nodded toward him with a jerk of her chin. “How’s the shoulder? Painful, I hope.”

“Fairly so, yes,” Dominic admitted.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” Brandt asked, clearly baffled, as he broke into the tension between Remy and Dominic.

“We’ve made each other’s acquaintance before,” Remy said through clenched teeth. “He’s one of the
bastards
who broke into the safe house and took Cade.” She tightened her grip on the rifle, and Dominic stiffened.

Brandt turned on the man and took a step toward him. “
You
were involved in that?” he demanded. “You took my … you took Cade and forced her to go with you to God knows where? All because, what, you’re deluded into thinking you can get a cure out of me?” He took another step toward Dominic. “Newsflash, asshole. I don’t
have
one.”

“It’s not like that,” Dominic protested. He shook his head and took a step back. “It’s not like that at all! I was just following orders!”

“Yeah, that’s what the fucking Nazis said!” Brandt snapped.

“And your stupid orders almost got me
killed!
” Remy added vehemently. She adjusted her grip on the rifle and leveled the barrel on Dominic’s head. “Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t do the same to you!”

“Because I have information on a massive outbreak happening right now inside the Westin,” Dominic said promptly. Remy narrowed her eyes and lowered the rifle, though she kept it gripped tightly in both hands.

“How massive?” she asked. She struggled to keep her voice from betraying the shock and adrenaline running through her. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them around the rifle as she tried desperately to steady her nerves, even as they felt like they were attempting to rattle right out through her skin.

“Probably the biggest single-location outbreak since the Michaluk virus’s initial waves last year,” Dominic said.

“You’re lying,” Remy immediately and bluntly accused.

“No the hell I’m not,” Dominic protested. “It’s bad. It’s really fucking bad.” Something in the man’s voice clued Remy in that the man might actually be telling the truth. Didn’t mean she hated him any less, though.

Brandt moved between Remy and Dominic, much to Remy’s disappointment. “How bad? What is going on in there?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and level. Despite that, Remy could hear the urgency in his tone.

“She had fucking infected hidden in the hotel. People who were living there who had gone missing over the past nine months, people who were infected and whose medications gave out on them,” Dominic said. Remy heard tears in his voice. “She let them loose, and they’re attacking everybody. Those who aren’t turned will be soon. And those who weren’t infected aren’t going to last much longer in there, if they’re not already dead.” He shook his head and gasped out, “It’s a death trap. The way she set that thing up? It’s going to herd the fucking infected right into the uninfected, and they’re all going to die. That tower is going to be the biggest biological hazard this world has seen in a year.”