“We’ve got to get onto the Humvee, walk across it, and climb over the concrete barricade,” Brandt said. “My truck is just beyond it. Once we’re inside, we’ll light on out of here.”
“What about the barbed wire?” Olivia asked, gesturing to the coils of spiked wire that lined the top of the barricade.
“Remember how we used to get over the barbed wire fence at the back of Granddad’s farm so we could go off into the woods?”
“Yeah, we’d drape the welcome mat over the fence to keep from getting stuck.”
Brandt held the soldier’s coat up. “Same basic principle,” he said, and she grinned.
“Genius.”
“The only problem with the plan is that we’ll have to go over the wire one at a time, which will make all of this infinitely more dangerous.”
“I can go first,” Olivia volunteered. Then a grin crossed her face. “That might help squish down the wire so you don’t ruin your chances of having any more children later in your life.”
“Very cute,” Brandt commented. She took the coat from him and took a running leap, landing heavily on the Humvee in a crouch. The thud of her feet making impact on the metal made Brandt cringe, and he grimaced when he saw several of the people surrounding the tank break away to move toward the Humvee.
“Liv, move faster!” he shouted, hoping the noise would distract the people around them from her and back onto him. She didn’t acknowledge his order verbally, but she did speed up, hurrying across the roof of the Humvee and then onto its hood. She shook out the camouflage coat and flung it up onto the barricade, draping it over the barbed wire, then climbed up and dropped over the barricade and out of sight.
Brandt started down the tank to jump to the Humvee himself, but before he made the leap, the sound of Olivia’s piercing, pained scream reached his ears.
“Olivia!” Brandt shouted, his heart leaping in his chest. Gunfire erupted on the other side of the barricade, and he burst into motion. He jumped across the gap between the tank and the Humvee and had barely regained his balance before he was moving, running across the Humvee and taking a leap up to the barricade, hauling himself onto it and dropping over it without even bothering to check out the scene beyond.
There were three attackers on the other side of the wall, probably drawn by the sound of the guns he and Olivia had been using. All of them were gathered around the opened driver’s side door of his truck. Olivia had crawled half into the truck and was trying to aim her gun, kicking at the hands grabbing at her ankles and legs. Brandt raced forward, his rifle raised, and slammed the butt of the weapon against the head of the nearest of the three. She fell back, staggering under the blow, and he went after her, swinging the rifle again, slamming it into her head again and again until she collapsed to the pavement, twitching.
Once she was incapacitated, Brandt turned to the other two who were still menacing his sister, running forward, using the rifle like a baseball bat to club the attackers on the heads, shoulders, and necks, anywhere he could hit that could inflict pain. They didn’t seem to notice the pain, and one of them was already halfway into the car with Olivia, who was still screaming, kicking and flailing and trying to get away when she didn’t have anywhere to go.
Brandt dropped the rifle and grabbed one of the men by the shoulder, hauling him backward away from the truck. When the man tried to grab him, he grasped the man’s head between both of his hands and began to twist. The man’s neck snapped, and he sagged in Brandt’s hands in the split second before Brandt let go of him and let him tumble to the pavement.
Then there was only one of Olivia’s attackers left, and Brandt swiftly went into motion. Not wanting to make any more sound for fear of bringing more of them, he jerked the KA-BAR knife from the sheath on his boot and swung it up, stabbing it with all the force in his arm straight up into the back of the man’s head, into the gap where the spinal cord entered the brain.
The man toppled to the pavement, his body going limp.
Brandt kicked him aside, clambering into the truck with his sister and pulling the door shut. He hit the lock button to keep anything from getting inside and then turned to her.
That was when he saw the blood.
Chapter 15
“Oh God, please tell me that’s not your blood,” Brandt said, his voice shaking, unable to disguise the raw fear that worked up in him.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Olivia said. Unlike his voice, hers was remarkably steady, and she held out her left arm to show him. Her jacket sleeve was ripped, and blood soaked through it to stain the fabric. A single drop fell from the sleeve to land on his truck’s seat.
“Oh God, no,” Brandt gasped. He started the engine and threw the truck into gear, driving backwards down the street. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No!” Olivia exploded, the word so loud that Brandt almost swerved off the road. “No hospitals, Michael. They’re flashpoints for major viral outbreaks. There’s a higher chance we’d be in danger just driving past a hospital, and to walk into one could mean suicide. For all we know, there are military guys standing there with guns, ready to shoot anybody who walks in with a bite.” She shook her head. “No, we can’t go to a hospital.”
“What do we do then?”
“The only thing we can do,” Olivia said, “and that’s as much as we’re able to on our own.” She was silent for a minute, and Brandt resisted the urge to look at her. When she did speak again, her voice was resigned. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”
“I’m trying to not think about the implications of it,” Brandt said. He tapped the brakes and steered the truck around a wrecked van. The road was getting more congested the further they drove, and if it kept up, they were going to have to either turn around and go back the way they’d come or abandon the truck and go on foot. Truthfully, he didn’t like the idea of either option.
“Well, we’re going to have to think about the implications,” Olivia pointed out. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough corpses with a combination of bite marks and gunshot wounds to realize that there’s probably a reason the bitten were all shot. They’re using obvious extreme quarantine measures, which means that whatever this is, it’s highly contagious. Considering the military was shooting anyone with bite wounds, it’s not unreasonable to assume that it’s spread through saliva or blood. Which means that since I’ve been bitten, I’ve probably got whatever it is.”
“Do you have to sound so fucking reasonable about all of this?” Brandt grumbled.
“I have to be reasonable about it,” Olivia said. “I think I’d lose my mind otherwise, and right now, we can’t afford to have me screaming and crying and panicking.”
Brandt glanced at her then. She sat in the passenger seat, her shoulders hunched, her knees pressed together, a hand clasped tightly over her wounded arm to staunch the bleeding. Her face was drawn and pale, and she stared out the windshield with the hard concentration of someone committing everything she saw and felt to memory, perhaps to write down later.
In that moment, Brandt thought that Olivia was the bravest person he’d ever met. He’d seen soldiers in the middle of a firefight that hadn’t been as strong-willed and determined.
He refocused on the road ahead. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice as steady as hers, though he was, in all honesty, terrified of what her answer would be.
“We need to get me someplace safe,” Olivia said. “It has to be somewhere in the city, because if I’m sick with something, I can’t leave the city.”
Brandt shook his head, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “No.”
“No?” Olivia repeated. “Michael—”
“I’m not leaving you behind,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to,” Olivia countered. “I’m asking you to watch over me, help me take notes on what happens to me, the entire process from beginning to end.”
“Why?”
“For scien
ce, of course,” Olivia answered, like it should have been obvious to him.
“Science?” Brandt slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “Science isn’t worth your fucking life!”
“My fucking life is probably over!” Olivia yelled. “The least we can do is gather what information we can from it before I die!”
Brandt and Olivia remained silent until Brandt had found an apartment building that had been long shut down and vacated, cleared it of any potential enemies, and barricaded them inside a dusty, mildewed apartment.
By then, Olivia had begun to sweat and shiver, and her temperature had skyrocketed. She sat against the wall in what once had been the living room, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes closed while Brandt wound a roll of gauze from his truck’s first aid kit around her forearm.
“How do you feel?” Brandt asked quietly. He tore a strip of medical tape free from the roll and fastened down the edge of the gauze.
“Like shit,” Olivia answered.
Brandt reached out and gently pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re feverish,” he told her. “I wish we had a thermometer.”
“Yeah, that was my failing,” Olivia said. “I should have brought my little school kit.”
Brandt gently caressed her cheek, brushing the backs of his fingers down the side of her face. Olivia brought her hand up to catch his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have gone over the barricade first, not you.”
“Too late to have regrets now,” Olivia said. She smiled crookedly, as if she was trying to comfort him, but it didn’t work. He wasn’t sure he could even feel comfort, or any other emotion, anymore. He slid over to sit against the wall beside her, their hands still linked together, and sighed, dropping his head back on the wall.
“I know, but I still have them,” Brandt told her. “Not just about this. About…well, everything. Ever since the thing with Devon, I’ve been a real shit to you.”
“No, you haven—,” Olivia started to protest.
“Yes, I have,” Brandt interrupted. “I haven’t handled Devon’s death and Kayla leaving me very well. I drink too much, I care too little, and I just…I don’t know. Not even the military managed to straighten me out. It got worse ever since Mom and Dad…” He looked down at the dirty floor, and it was a long time before he could add, “Now I find myself losing you too.”
“At least it’s for the greater good,” Olivia said.
“The greater good can go fuck itself. I just want my little sister to be okay.”
Olivia slid sideways, curling up on her side and resting her head against his leg. “I’ll be okay, Michael, I promise,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and relaxed. “I’m just going to take a nap, okay? Wake me up in an hour?”
“Yeah, okay,” Brandt agreed, his voice hoarse. He smoothed her hair back from her face, gently raking the strands off her forehead with his fingertips, and she drifted into a light sleep.
Brandt sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity—for what he wished was an eternity—watching Olivia sleep, her eyes shifting and flickering beneath her eyelids as she dreamed. He wondered what she was dreaming about and hoped it was something pleasant and beautiful. He gently rubbed his thumb against the soft skin on the inside of her wrist and closed his eyes, fighting back the tears pricking at his eyes.
Why did it have to be Olivia laying here, dying? Why couldn’t it have been him? She was beautiful, intelligent, ambitious, good. She could be a force to be reckoned with in the world. He was just a worthless piece of shit, someone who couldn’t get his act together no matter how much he was paid to do it. Even now, after over a month of forced sobriety, he still felt the urge to go out and find a drink to soothe his nerves. He was a messed-up alcoholic, and no amount of medical testing could change that.
That was why it should have been him and not her. He was worthless, and she was priceless.
Olivia stirred in her sleep and moaned softly. Brandt gently tightened his fingers in her dark hair and made a soft shushing sound, like he used to do when Devon had been an infant. She settled down, her breathing evening out, and he loosened his grip on her hair, resisting the urge to wake her up before the allotted hour had passed.
Olivia moaned again, and then she suddenly sat up, nearly smacking her forehead into his face. Brandt jerked his head back to keep from getting head-butted and caught her by the shoulders as she started to flail, swinging her arms around as if she were trying to hit something that was attacking her.
“Olivia!” Brandt cried. “Liv, stop! It’s me!”
Olivia looked at him, wild eyed, and it took her long heartbeats to focus. When she did, she let out a shuddering breath and sagged against him, resting her head on his chest. She started to shake, her body wracked by silent sobs, and Brandt rocked her back and forth, holding her close, trying to keep himself together for her sake.
“Talk to me, Livvy,” Brandt said, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Tell me about it.”
Olivia buried her face against his chest, dug her fingers into his shoulders, and sobbed out loud. Brandt held her tighter, wrapping her into a hug. “I don’t want to die,” she mumbled.
“I know, sweetheart,” Brandt replied. It felt like he had something jammed in his throat, and he tried unsuccessfully to swallow it down. “I wish there was something I could do. This all makes me feel helpless, and I hate feeling helpless.”
Olivia sat up and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I can feel it in me, Michael,” she said. “Like, deep inside me, way deep in my brain.”
“You can feel it?”
She nodded. “In here,” she said, touching the side of her head. A tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “It feels like something is…eating at me. I can’t describe it.” She moved her hand to her stomach. “And I feel…hungry. But not for food.”
“For what, then?” Brandt asked.
“I don’t know,” Olivia said weakly. She looked away from him. “There’s…anger there too, way down deep with the hunger. Like, the kind of anger that it might not be safe for you to be around. Like the angry way that the infected people outside were acting when they attacked us, when they bit me.” She shifted her gaze to the windows on the other side of the living room. “Maybe that’s why the soldiers shot all those people. Maybe they were just too aggressive and too angry. And maybe that makes it unsafe for me to be anywhere near you.”
“You’re not proposing making me leave, are you?” Brandt asked. “Because I can tell you right now, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t expect you to,” Olivia said. “I’m sure nothing I did at this point could make you leave, so I’m pretty well resigned to you being here when this happens, whatever ‘this’ is. I just figured maybe it’s about time we put me in a different room and keep a door between us. Just in case.”
“Whatever you say, Liv. You are in charge on this.”
Olivia stood, stretching to work the kinks out of her back. All of the upset was gone from her face, and now she just looked tired. “The bathroom might be good,” she said. “Do you think I’d be able to open the door once I’m sick?”
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Olivia went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Hours passed without a word exchanged between them. Brandt paced across the empty living room, the floorboards creaking under his boots, anxiety welling up in him as he glanced repeatedly at the door. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side, which had him worried. He’d gone to the door a few times, considering knocking on it or opening it to check on her but stopping himself before actually doing so. He felt like they were wasting precious time separated from each other like this, but there was nothing he could do about it. Ultimately, she was right to keep them separated, if only for his own safety.
However, he was beyond caring about his own safety. After this, there would be no reason left t
o care.
“Michael?” Olivia’s voice came from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded weak and hoarse, and he rushed to the door and leaned close to it.
“I’m here,” he called.
Olivia went into a coughing fit, hacking like she was trying to cough up a lung, and then she panted for a minute, trying to catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” Brandt asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Olivia replied, but she sounded breathless. “Well, as fine as can be expected.”
“Do you need anything?”
Olivia was silent for a long moment, long enough that Brandt began to worry that something was dreadfully wrong on the other side of the door. Then she cleared her throat and spoke again. “What are you planning to do after…after all of this is over?”
“After what is over?” Brandt asked. He rested his forehead against the door and closed his eyes, knowing what her answer was but not wanting to hear it.
“After I’m dead,” Olivia said. Her voice sounded stronger, as if she’d begun to come to terms with the fact.
“I don’t know,” Brandt lied. “I haven’t thought about it yet.” He actually had thought about it, unceasingly, since the moment Olivia had begun to show some of the early symptoms of illness. Most of his thoughts had involved him putting a gun in his mouth, but he didn’t think that that was something worth sharing with his sister.
“Can I ask something of you?”
“Depends on what it is,” Brandt said, but he’d have done anything she asked him to do at that moment.
“Keep going,” Olivia said. “After this is done, keep going. Find someplace safe, help some other people, and do whatever you need to do to stay alive. Maybe go find you a woman, and I’m not talking one of those skanks like you normally bring home all the time. I mean someone that you can be with, somebody that makes you happy in the long term and not just long enough for you to get off. Find somebody that could maybe give you a reason to live. Maybe when all this is over, when the world goes back to normal, you can build a life out of whatever you find out there and be happy.”
Origins (The Becoming Book 6) Page 10