The Becoming: Revelations (7 page)

“
What’s going on?” Brandt persisted. He set the clothes on the desk and found the shirt in the pile. He started to change as Derek tried to explain.

“
The pathogen. The one we’ve been testing on all of you,” Derek said. He pulled a pair of scissors from his lab coat pocket and snagged Brandt’s wrist, snipping the medical bracelet from it. “It’s gotten out, Michael. And it’s bad.”

Brandt was instantly alert. “How bad?”

“
All over the city bad,” Derek said. “It’s mutated. It’s spreading like mad and making people go insane. People are killing people everywhere. It started three days ago.”

“
My sister?” Brandt asked. “Where is my sister? Is she okay?”

“
I don’t … I don’t think so,” Derek admitted. “Emory is gone. It was sealed off by the military two days ago in an attempt to contain the spread. Everyone on campus … they’re gone.”

“
Jesus.” Brandt sank down onto the bed, feeling like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. Olivia, gone? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He stared emptily at the wall for a long moment before drawing in a breath and asking, “So what does this have to do with me?” He put the boots on as he spoke. They fit well, he noticed as he laced them up. He wiggled his feet inside and discovered that the boots were perfectly snug and comfortable.

“
It’s got everything to do with you,” Derek said. “The government has ordered a stop to the testing. They want it shut down.”

“
Okay, so shut it down,” Brandt said.

“
We can’t just ‘shut it down,’ Michael. You don’t understand.” Derek closed his eyes. “It’s not that easy. All of you pose a significant danger to everyone else out there. You have potentially unstable versions of the pathogen in your systems. No one knows what will happen if you’re exposed to the mutated version out there. You’re not supposed to be allowed to leave.” He blew out a breath. “Shutting the program down is a euphemism. They’re killing them all. They’re killing
us
all.”

Brandt’s head jerked up, seemingly of its own accord. He looked at the doctor, who stood before him with his shoulders slumped in defeat. “All of us?” he repeated. “Even …”

“
Doctors, nurses, scientists, lab techs, everyone who has been potentially exposed to the original pathogens,” Derek explained. He grabbed Brandt’s arm again and removed the heparin lock from the inside of his elbow with a smoothness born of many years of practice. A speck of blood dotted Brandt’s forearm, and Derek wiped it away with the edge of his coat. “But we’re not going to let them take everyone. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“
Why me?” Brandt asked. “Why not the others too?”

“
Because by the time we finish in here, they’ll all likely be dead,” Derek said. He shook his head slowly. “What a waste.” He dipped his hand into his lab coat pocket again and pulled out a Beretta M9, handing it and a sheathed KA-BAR knife to Brandt. “Take these. You’ll need them. First opportunity you get, you grab whatever additional weapons you can find. Now get out of here.”

“
What about you?” Brandt persisted.

“
I’ll be fine. Go.” Derek shoved Brandt toward the door and moved to unlock it. “Oh, and Michael? Don’t get killed, okay? You might be needed one day.”

Brandt’s eyes snapped open.

Cade woke to the sound of Brandt vomiting. This wasn’t anything new; she’d been awakened by the sound at least three times in the three days she’d been awake after her long illness. It was worrisome, and the first time, she’d gone to the bathroom door to make sure he was okay and had gotten it slammed in her face for her troubles. After that, Cade didn’t bother getting out of bed.

He’d be fine, she assured herself as she shifted onto her back. The healing wound in her side let out a pang of protest at the movement. She squinted at the watch on her wrist, just barely deciphering the hour hand pointing to the three, and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes with a soft groan.

Cade hoped this would be the last time she’d be woken up by Brandt being ill. She was worried about him, sure. But she was also tired of being woken so early. She still hadn’t caught up on the rest she so desperately needed. She felt near tears with the urgent need and total inability to go back to sleep.

Cade looked to the closed bathroom door and debated checking on him this time. That involved getting out of bed—which was still painful no matter how she did it—and slogging her way to the door. It wasn’t an appealing thought. She heaved a tired sigh and sat up, grabbed the nearest thing resembling a blanket—Brandt’s jacket, draped over the arm of the chair by the bed—and slung it over her shoulders before working her way out of bed with the ease and grace of an old woman.

It’d been slightly over a month since their flight from Atlanta, and the event was still hazy. All Cade remembered were chaotic images and noises flashing through her mind: a flicker of Brandt’s tired, strained face; the sound of squealing tires; gunshots ringing out above her head; and Brandt’s voice, saying over and over, nearly chanting, “Stay with me, Cade. For the love of God, stay with me.” And the pain, unceasing and pulsing in her side, the sticky feeling of blood trickling down to stain the waistband of her jeans. She remembered the wind in her hair, the sound of Remy sobbing, and the scent of the ocean as they reached their destination: a house near the coastline just inside South Carolina. And now, a month after their arrival, Cade was on the mend and conscious enough to worry about Brandt.

Cade was halfway across the bedroom, her toes freezing on the cold floorboards, when she heard a couple of thuds in the bathroom. The sound was accompanied by Brandt spitting toothpaste out before the bathroom door eased open. His face was wet and flushed, his eyes bloodshot, and his hair damp. But he looked far better than he had when he’d first woken her by flinging himself out of bed.

Cade took a few steps toward him, wrapping the jacket tighter around her shoulders. “You okay?” she asked.

“Shit, Cade, what are you doing out of bed?” he asked, avoiding her question. He took her elbow and led her back to the large bed. “You shouldn’t be up and around like this. Your side—”

“Is just fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll survive. I promise. Are you okay?”

Brandt sighed and let go of her elbow, flipping the bedsheets back and motioning for her to climb in. He waited until she was in the bed again before he slid underneath the sheets himself. Cade could see his muscles shift under his skin, even through the thin t-shirt he wore. He ran his hand through his dark hair and flopped back against his pillows before answering her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a bad dream is all.”

“And that made you puke?” Cade asked doubtfully.

Brandt shrugged. “I don’t know. It could happen, I suppose.” He rolled onto his side, his dark eyes searching her face in the early-morning haze as she wiggled out of his jacket and tossed it back onto the chair. “Sorry I woke you up again. How’s your side?”

Cade shrugged halfheartedly and prodded gently at the wound, working her fingers over the skin around the bandage before she huffed out a breath. “It’s sore, but it’s not like it was when we first got here. It’ll probably be another two weeks or so before it gets anywhere close to healed enough for anything strenuous.”

Brandt tugged at the white tank top she wore. “Let me see,” he requested, his voice demanding. Cade raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Is this just a ploy to get me naked, Mr. Evans?” Cade joked with a laugh. She wiggled out of the tank top, easing it slowly over her head so she wouldn’t hurt herself further.

“Cade, I guarantee you, sex is the
last
thing on my mind right now,” Brandt said. He set her shirt aside and began picking at the tape holding the gauze over her wound. It took him only a few moments to peel it away, and when the row of messy stitches was exposed, he leaned closer to study it in the darkness. Cade felt his warm breath against her skin, and she suppressed a shiver.

“That’s a relief,” Cade said with a smirk. Brandt prodded at her wound, and a dull stab of pain darted through her side. “I really don’t think I could manage anything right now anyway, even if I actually
was
in the mood. Which I’m not.”

Brandt gave Cade a smile and crawled up the bed. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his fingers twisting into her dark hair. “Not even for that?” he asked. He smirked and rubbed his hand over her bare, uninjured side. Cade raised an eyebrow suspiciously and wiggled from underneath him, somehow managing to not hurt herself in the process.

“You, sir, are getting a little too forward,” she warned. A nervous flutter stirred in her stomach. She avoided the disappointed look in the man’s eyes and reached for the first-aid kit on the bedside table. “You’re supposed to be bandaging my side back up.”

Brandt hesitated before nodding and sitting up. He grabbed the kit from her and dumped it out onto the bed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He picked the gauze and medical tape from the small pile. “The last person I heard use that term was my grandmother. Forward?” he asked casually. Despite his light tone, Cade could tell he was deeply hurt. She bit her lip and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m not sure I’m comfortable with … all this yet,” Cade said. She waved her hand around in the space between them. “It’s just … I don’t know. Too fast.”

Brandt set the gauze on Cade’s stomach, not meeting her eyes. “So what was last month?” he asked, picking up the wound cleanser and applying it to Cade’s side. “Just a fling? Something stupid that seemed like a good idea at the time but in reality wasn’t?”

“It was … it was nice,” Cade said lamely. She didn’t look directly at him. “But I was scared, and you were there. And I just … I really do like you, Brandt. I’m just not sure I’m ready for any of this. Not in the circumstances we live in.”

Brandt was silent as he taped the gauze to her side with more roughness than was strictly necessary. A jab of pain ran through her side at the treatment, and she winced. When he was done, Brandt repacked the kit and set it heavily onto the table. Then, not looking at Cade, he asked, “So when is shit
not
going to be too soon? Or will it always be, ‘Not yet, Brandt’?” The frustration was thick in his voice; Cade felt guilty as she diverted her eyes from him.

“I don’t know,” she confessed.

Brandt pressed his lips together and nodded again, lying down beside her once more. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered. “I don’t have time for this. Gray and I are going out for supplies in the morning. I’ve got to get some sleep.”

Cade swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could manage to put together any words, Brandt rolled over and put his back to her, very pointedly indicating that the conversation was over.

Ethan stood at the foot of his bed, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Alicia sort through a pile of objects suitable for travel that were spread out on the bed. He clenched his teeth and dug his blunt nails into the soft skin on the underside of his arms as she rolled up two t-shirts and stuffed them into her black backpack. Alicia was going on some sort of excursion, and so far, she’d refused to tell him anything about it. He wanted to go. He was
dying
to go, dying to get out of this damned hotel and do
something, anything
other than pace in his room and occasionally go down to the eighth floor for food. To say he was going stir-crazy was an understatement.

“Let me go with you,” Ethan said. His eyes followed Alicia as she moved to the dresser and picked up a holstered sidearm. She began to pull her belt from its loops to put the holster on it as she replied.

“You can’t go. You’re not ready yet.” Her voice was mild, but Ethan detected a latticework of steel underneath her words. That didn’t stop him from voicing his own protest.

“The hell I’m not,” Ethan bit out. “I’ve been ready for days now.”

“You might be ready physically, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready emotionally,” Alicia said. “I don’t want you out there. I think you need a little more time before I even consider letting you come out with us.”

Ethan growled under his breath. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?” he accused. “You’re going to try to find Brandt.”

Alicia hesitated. That moment’s hesitation told Ethan his answer before the woman even spoke.

“We’re going to try,” she said. This time, instead of hearing steel under her words, Ethan heard evasiveness. He narrowed his eyes and took a slow step toward her.

“You’re hiding something from me,” Ethan accused. Alicia averted her eyes, refusing to look at him. Ethan gritted his teeth and took another step toward her. “Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”

Ethan stopped in front of her and watched her more intently. As she continued to avoid his gaze, he grabbed her upper arms and backed her against the wall, nearly slamming her against the sheetrock. A gasp escaped Alicia’s mouth, and her eyes finally met his. When Ethan spoke, even he thought his voice sounded harsh and threatening.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what the fuck will happen if you’re lying to me,” Ethan spat out. He tightened his grip on Alicia’s arms to emphasize his point. “Do you know where they are?”