Ground Zero

by Jessica Meigs

  “Could have fooled me,” Brandt muttered.

  She glared at him. “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up,” she snapped. Her anger and hurt overrode any sort of happy front she could manage to put up. “Don’t fucking…talk about shit like you know anything about me. You don’t know shit, Brandt. So shut the fuck up.”

  He put his hands up defensively. That only served to irritate her further. She rolled her eyes and set off again. “Upstairs or stay on the first floor?” she asked, changing the subject quickly.

  She felt Brandt’s eyes on her, and she stopped at the stairwell entrance. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the cool metal, closing her eyes and trying to breathe steadily. Irrational tears sprang up in her eyes. Exhaustion hammered at her brain. She didn’t hear him walking toward her, but suddenly Brandt was at her side.

  “I’m sorry,” Brandt said. His voice was soft and gentle and comforting, and he rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

  Remy shook her head. “No, I am,” she said. “I’m the one who got bitchy and took it out on you when you didn’t deserve it.”

  Brandt continued to rub her back, humming softly in response. “We all have our bad memories to cope with,” he said. She sensed that he was talking about something from his own past as he continued. “All we can do is try to move on and avoid the things that hurt us. Even if it’s next to impossible to do.”

  Remy shook her head and stepped away from him, grasping the door’s handle. She didn’t meet his eyes as she murmured, “It’s not like that, Brandt. You’re not the one who had to kill your own sister.” Brandt visibly flinched at that, taking a half step of his own back away from her. She ignored his reaction and stepped into the dark stairwell, not saying anything further as he followed her without another word.

  * * *

  The chance to spend a quiet evening in a motel without immediate problems to deal with was a temptation entirely too great to pass up. As a result, the members of the group had secured two rooms for themselves, barricading the doors leading to the hallways for safety, and traveling between the two rooms by way of the opened door between them.

  It really was a perfect setup, in Cade’s opinion. Especially once they factored in the food and water collected earlier that day—even the warm sodas. It was as close to a party as they’d ever get, and she was enjoying herself immensely.

  They spent several hours piled up on the beds and chairs in one of the rooms, sharing drinks and jokes and stories and laughter. It had been a long time since they’d had a good time, and it seemed like it’d been even longer since any of them had heard laughter—real laughter, not the forced kind people used when they felt the obligation to laugh at something. It was revitalizing, and it lifted the spirits of everyone present, Cade included.

  It was almost midnight when she managed to escape their little party, retreating to the room Ethan had designated as the girls’ room. She felt gross and grimy, and she desperately needed to clean up. As she passed the bags of supplies so thoughtfully piled in a corner, she grabbed one with several bottles of water in it. There was no way she could get an actual bath, and a shower was out of the question—though the thought of a hot one nearly made her salivate. She could at least get a decent sink bath, though, and that was exactly what she planned to do. She poured water into the stoppered sink and used a washcloth to clean up as best she could.

  Cade was just tugging her shirt back on when there was a tap at the bathroom door. She turned, raising an eyebrow, before she pulled it open. Brandt stood in the open doorway, a slightly nervous look on his face.

  “Hey. I was just coming to see if you were…okay,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. The motion gave him an air of boyish awkwardness that Cade found a little charming. “You’ve been gone a while. Thought something was wrong.” Cade grinned slightly.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” she said with a flippant wave of her hand. She scooped her hair into a loose ponytail and lifted it off her neck. “I was just cleaning up. I felt a little gross after the past few days of fun we’ve had.”

  Brandt chuckled softly and snuck a look at the bathroom. “Hey, you need help with your hair?” he offered. “My sister Olivia used to get me to help with hers a lot when we were younger. I know it can’t be easy doing it yourself with all that hair you’ve got.”

  Cade smiled and let go of her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders. “You’d do that?” she asked, even as her brain zeroed in on the mention of his sister, someone about whom the man didn’t talk very often, if at all. “Because I don’t think my hair has had a good wash in…God, ages. The thought of how long it’s been is kind of disgusting.”

  Brandt moved out of the doorway toward the other room. She watched him curiously. “Yeah, just give me a second. Theo and Gray grabbed a few things back at Walmart that they figured you ladies would appreciate. I’ll go get them.”

  Now she was definitely curious. Brandt came back moments later with a white plastic bag and set it on the end of the bed. He dug around inside then pulled his hand out to hold up a gray bottle of high-end shampoo—something she was surprised that Walmart even carried. She barely suppressed her squeal of delight as she hurried forward and snatched the bottle from him. “Oh my God, this is so perfect,” she said, skimming the text on the bottle. “Remind me to give Theo and Gray massive kisses next time I see them.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Brandt said, laughing and handing her a bottle of leave-in conditioner. “That might make me jealous or something.”

  “Or something?” she repeated distractedly as she carried both bottles to the bathroom, setting them on the edge of the sink reverently, a satisfied smile on her face. Brandt followed her in and began rolling up his sleeves.

  “Yeah. I might have to kill them,” he joked then tugged at the hem of her shirt. “You’re probably going to have to take this off. Unless, of course, you really want your shirt to get soaked through, and I know you don’t.”

  Cade shrugged and promptly slid out of the shirt, tossing it to the floor and standing in front of him in her jeans and bra. “Nothing everyone in this group hasn’t seen before at some point,” she commented. Her cheeks immediately flushed red as she realized how that had sounded, but Brandt didn’t seem to feel the need to comment. His dark eyes appraised her; she could practically feel them moving over her skin as he looked her up and down.

  Now was not the time to suddenly become modest, Cade reminded herself. Brandt ceased his staring. “Come on, lean back,” he said, grabbing the spare bottles of water left on the sink. He slid an arm under her to help support her as she obediently leaned over the sink, and he poured the water over her hair, pausing occasionally to work the water all the way through. She relaxed and closed her eyes.

  “Are you still worried about going into Atlanta?” Cade asked, reveling in the feeling of his fingers massaging through her hair. The sound of the shampoo bottle popping open met her ears, and the scent of coconut wafted across her nose. Moments later, Brandt started lathering the shampoo into her hair.

  “When did I stop being worried?” he finally said. There was bitterness in his voice, and she opened her eyes.

  “This isn’t going to turn out well, is it?” she asked. He avoided her gaze, focusing instead on his hands and her hair.

  “It won’t,” he said. “It took me three days to get out of the city. I had to fight my way out. I had to do things I didn’t like doing, things I’d never dreamed of doing. I saw things that still give me nightmares to this day. I don’t know what it’s like now, but a year ago, it wasn’t a safe place to be. There were…the infected were everywhere. Even as good as I am, I think I got out only through sheer luck. The others out there, they’ve survived by luck so far, but they won’t survive this. And I don’t know if even my own luck will hold out enough to get me out a second time. And then there’s you…”

  Cade let his words sit in the air between them for a solid minute as he started ri
nsing the shampoo from her hair. Finally, when he was almost finished with the task, she spoke again. “What about me?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I don’t think I could handle watching you get hurt,” he confessed. He still didn’t look directly at her, his eyes focused intently on her hair. “I don’t want to even think of the idea of you getting infected by one of those fuckers. I don’t want to have to be the one to shoot you when you do get infected.”

  “When?” Cade repeated. Brandt opened another bottle of water, its plastic seal letting out a loud crack.

  “Yeah. When,” he affirmed.

  “You seem rather confident it will happen.”

  “It will,” he said solemnly, pouring the lukewarm water over her hair. “This is a fucking suicide mission, Cade. This isn’t something any of us should be doing. Why are we even agreeing to go with this woman, anyway? She’s going to get us all killed. If even one of us gets out of this clusterfuck, it’s going to be a damned miracle.”

  “I don’t believe in miracles,” Cade said softly. A bubble of shampoo got uncomfortably close to her eye, so she squeezed them both closed. “I’ve never believed in miracles, and I especially don’t believe in them now. Entirely too much shit has happened in the past year to even consider the possibility of miracles.” She paused, swallowing hard. “I believe in us and in our friends and in our abilities. We’ll get out of there if I have anything to say about it.”

  “That’s the thing, Cade. You don’t have any say in it,” he said. Frustration seeped into his voice over the bitterness already there. He gently wrung out her hair and grabbed a towel, sliding it under her neck and gathering her wet hair up in it before he continued. “If you’re going to get taken down, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. And in a city like Atlanta…fuck, the chances of that happening are so fucking high. The chance that you’ll manage to survive is almost nonexistent.”

  Cade slowly straightened, lifting her hand to brace the towel against her hair so it wouldn’t fall off. She leaned over at the waist and started to dry it as she spoke. “So what are you saying?” she asked, her voice muffled. “That we should just throw in the towel now and resign ourselves to the fact that we’re all going to die within the next few days?”

  “No, not at all,” Brandt said. He shook his head and stepped back from her, drying his hands off before shoving them back into his pockets. “I’m just saying that we need to be prepared for the worst that could happen. And that if we need to say anything we’ll regret not saying later, we should say it now, because we might not get the chance again.”

  “You mean me and you?”

  “No, I mean the group in general,” he fumbled. Cade felt a smile quirking at the corner of her lips as she watched him scramble for the right words. “I mean…yeah. Fuck. I’m going to sound like a damned creeper.” He sighed. “Yeah, I mean us, too. Me and you.”

  She leaned over to scoop her shirt off the floor and rubbed the fabric between her fingers, watching Brandt thoughtfully. “Could you get me my comb?” she asked him finally. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he nodded and turned away to retrieve it.

  That was obviously not the response he’d expected.

  She breathed out slowly and mentally cursed herself. It wasn’t that she was trying to avoid a serious conversation. She just wasn’t sure she wanted one with Brandt, because she knew where it would likely lead. And the thought of where it would lead scared the hell out of her.

  Her own shoulders slumping, Cade slid her shirt back on and followed Brandt into the bedroom. He stood by the bed, staring into the depths of her bag. She was sure he was looking at the guns and knives and ammunition in it and wondering if it was safe to stick his hand inside. She smiled and moved around him, pulling the comb from the side pocket. “You said you had a sister, right?” she asked nonchalantly, twirling the comb between her fingers.

  “Yeah, I did,” he said. He closed the bag again, carefully, as if worried that just zipping it closed would make it blow up. Then again, he’d probably enjoy that, so long as he was far enough away from it when it happened.

  “Then I assume you know how to braid?”

  Brandt looked at her in surprise. “You want me to…braid your hair?” he repeated slowly.

  “What, you don’t want to?” she asked innocently, offering the comb to him. “Or do you not know how?” It was a blatant challenge, but sometimes that was the best way to get him to do what she wanted. The man was ridiculously competitive at times, and she used that fact to her advantage.

  “I know how,” he said defensively. He actually seemed offended at the idea of her questioning his hair-braiding skills. “I’m just surprised that you want me to.”

  “Well, you’re here and you know how,” she said, trying to suppress the smile tickling at the corners of her mouth. “But, you know, if you don’t want to, I can totally go get Remy out of the other room…” She trailed off and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  At that, Brandt snatched the comb from her. “Sit the fuck down,” he ordered, sounding like he was about to laugh. Cade grinned and promptly flopped onto the bed beside her bag. She heard something rattle ominously inside it, but she ignored it and shoved the bag over to the floor.

  She waited until he began working the comb through her hair, his movements slow and careful, before she spoke again. “So what did you want to talk about?” she asked, careful to keep her tone level. She closed her eyes, lulled into drowsiness by the strokes of the comb through her strands.

  Brandt paused in mid-stroke and let out a slow, steadying breath. “You and me,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

  “What about us?” Cade prompted. She opened her eyes and focused on the bedspread beneath her, tracing her fingers along the typically hotel-ugly design printed on it.

  Brandt stayed silent for a moment, focusing solely on her hair and working his fingers through a particularly stubborn knot. “I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he finally admitted. “Never have been.”

  “Good at what kind of thing?”

  “Talking about how I feel. That kind of thing.”

  Cade smiled and reached behind her, patting him on the leg in an attempt to reassure him. She’d guessed that about him pretty much the minute they’d met. “I’m not, either. So I guess we’re in the same boat, huh?” she said. “Give it a try?” He hesitated again, and she looked back at him questioningly. “Are you okay?” she asked, watching his face closely. He slowly shook his head. He looked nervous, apprehensive, maybe even a little green. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to say this without it sounding…I don’t know. Potentially weird or creepy?” Brandt said. He looked up at her with a sheepish smile. “I guess maybe I should just come out and say it.”

  “Yeah, that’d probably be a pretty good idea,” she agreed. She guessed she knew to some extent what Brandt was about to say. That didn’t mean she was prepared for it either way.

  “I…I think I’m in love with you, Cade. I’ve been in love with you almost since I met you,” he confessed. “I’ve always thought you were incredibly beautiful and attractive, and you’re just so strong and confident and fucking smart. I know this isn’t the ideal time to tell you this, and it might not be the right time. But it feels like it’s the only time I’ve got. I know you’re not interested in a relationship or anything because of all this…shit,” he said, motioning toward the barricaded window nearby. “But I just…I think it needs to be said. Needs to be out there. You know?”

  Brandt lifted his head and looked up at her uncertainly, waiting for her reaction to his words.

  * * *

  Ethan watched Remy as she lay on her back on one of the beds, eating a licorice whip and idly humming a song between bites. He shifted uncomfortably. The way she ate the candy was a little too seductive for his sanity to cope with, and it’d be highly uncomfortable—not to mention embarrassing—if his composure broke around the rest of the group. Remy looked at him questioningly
as she continued nibbling on the candy. He raised an eyebrow, and she smirked as she realized he’d been watching her.

  He couldn’t believe he was getting turned on over how a woman was eating licorice. He didn’t even like licorice.

  “You need something, Ethan?” Remy asked, her tone the very model of innocence. She raised her own eyebrow in return and stretched languidly on the bed. He traced his eyes along the curve of her neck before he forced himself to look away.

  “Another Coke, I think,” he mumbled. He slid off the bed from his position against the headboard and went to grab another drink from one of the shopping bags in the corner. He’d take anything that kept his hands busy and his mind off Remy.

  As he straightened, he glanced at the open dividing door and saw Brandt and Cade sitting on one of the beds beyond, Cade in front of Brandt, her back to him as he combed her hair. They were talking softly, engrossed in their conversation and unaware of his presence. He couldn’t hear what they were saying—it wasn’t any of his damned business, anyway—but the scene before him appeared incredibly intimate, even though the only thing happening was hair combing. He stepped forward and quietly pulled the door so it was nearly shut, giving Cade a nod of acknowledgment and a smile as she looked up at him.

  “Privacy,” Ethan mouthed to her. She looked grateful as she averted her eyes back to the bed. She appeared almost shy, and he suppressed a grin. It was so unlike her to be shy about anything. Brandt must have said something that had gotten to her. The door clicked shut.

  He turned, drink in hand, to see every set of eyes in the room staring at him. “What?”

  Remy sat up, a look of interest on her face. “What’s going on in there?” she asked, her eyes bright with the prospect of gossip. She pulled her legs underneath her to get comfortable, looking as eager as a puppy being offered a treat.

  “I really don’t think it’s any of your business,” Ethan tried. His need to protect Cade from Remy’s scrutiny was almost reflexive; he didn’t want her gossiping about his best friend. He moved to stand in front of the dividing door protectively.