Brandt’s eyes narrowed.
The expression on Cade’s face hardened in response. “I know you’ve got this whole ‘no man left behind’ Marine mentality,” Cade continued, “but we’ve got fifty people here who need us. We can’t compromise their lives for the sakes of eight men. We just can’t.”
“What are you saying? That we should just leave them out there to die?” Brandt asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Cade said. “And I’ll take full responsibility for the decision if necessary.”
Brandt whirled and took a step toward her. “That is not an option!” he snapped before starting for the bedroom door. Cade followed close behind.
“Brandt, we can’t afford to lose any more people, just like you said! And we shouldn’t put any more people at an unnecessary risk!”
Brandt stormed down the stairs, trying to ignore the logic she insisted he listen to. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nearly ran headlong into Isaac, who was emerging from the kitchen with a bowl in his hand. “Hey, you don’t mind if I borrow this, do you?” he asked as he spotted him and Cade, but the smile on his face died when he saw the expression on Brandt’s face. “What’s going on?”
“Supply team’s missing,” Brandt said. “I’m going out to find them. You in?”
“Oh, no, the hell you’re not!” Cade exploded. She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back, dragging him bodily away from the door. “No deal! You’re not leaving this community when you don’t need to! What the hell are you trying to do, send me into early labor? Because I will seriously squeeze this kid out to keep you from going anywhere!”
“I don’t think it works that way, Cade!”
“I don’t fucking care!”
Isaac glanced at Brandt and then at Cade. “You stay here, Evans. I’ll go.”
“You can’t go alone,” Brandt protested.
“Fine, I’ll take Dominic with me,” he offered. “Your woman’s right. You need to stay here. There’s no sense in you running off and getting yourself killed and leaving your kid without a father.”
“That doesn’t make me entirely happy, but it will do,” Cade muttered.
Isaac handed her the bowl and turned back to the kitchen. “I’m going to get ready,” he announced. “Brandt, would you do me a favor and let Dominic know I’ll need his assistance?”
“On it,” Brandt said. He glanced at Cade one more time, and she glared back at him, as if daring him to challenge her demands. He loved the way she looked when she was angry; her cheeks flushed and her eyes took on the fire of righteous indignation that sent chills up his spine. He took a quick step forward, kissing her deeply despite her protests. “Thank you for caring enough to argue,” he murmured. Then, conceding that he’d lost this argument, as he had most of them, he added, “Can you go to the gates and talk to Keith, see what you can find out about what direction Joseph took his crew in? I’m going to head to Dominic’s to let him know what’s going on and make sure he’s okay with going out with Isaac.”
Cade nodded and slipped past him, heading out the door and down the porch steps. Brandt watched as she started toward the gate, and then he moved in the opposite direction, heading for Dominic’s.
Brandt noted that Dominic’s yard was heavy with shade trees—the only yard in the community that still had a reasonable number of trees, most of the others having been harvested for the thirty-foot wall they’d built against the wrought-iron fence that had already surrounded Woodside. It seemed as if the rest of the community’s residents had come to the unspoken agreement to not have anything to do with Dominic Jackson, a fact made painfully obvious by their treatment of his chosen home. The thought of the man being ostracized so blatantly bothered Brandt, and he wasn’t sure why, considering he wasn’t a fan of Dominic’s.
When he reached the house, he noticed that someone had spray-painted the word “traitor” across the front. Brandt gritted his teeth and beat his fist against the door.
There was no answer.
Brandt frowned and took a step back, squinting at the door as if it could tell him whether or not Dominic was home. With very few exceptions, if Dominic wasn’t at the main house, then he was home. It’d been that way for months.
Brandt backed up to the edge of the porch and looked up at the second-story windows, since he knew the first-story ones would be boarded over, like all ground floor windows in the community. To his surprise, the second floor’s windows appeared to be boarded up too, and on the outside of these windows, someone had bolted chain link fencing as a second layer of defense. That made him take a look at the first floor’s windows; they’d received the same treatment, but it was less obvious in the shadow of the porch. It was an interesting addition that, given some time, Brandt would consider implementing on the rest of the houses.
Realizing there hadn’t been an answer, he raised his fist to pound on the door again. The sound of a whistle, high and sharp, cut through the air. He turned and dashed from the porch, heading in the direction of the whistle. The warning issued from the front gates. His heart skipped a beat when he remembered that he’d sent his pregnant wife there only minutes prior.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Brandt panted as he came within sight of the gates where a crowd was massing, roused by the sound of the whistle. Keith stood on one of the two watch platforms that flanked the gates, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes as he scanned the world beyond; Allen Durst stood on the other platform, his rifle aimed beyond the wall.
Cade intercepted Brandt before he reached the foot of the ladder that led to Keith’s platform, a rifle in her hands and her Galil slung onto her back. She passed him the rifle and a small canvas satchel of magazines.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“No idea, but if they’re blowing the whistle, then that means it’s not anything good,” she said. “When he started blowing it, I went back for our rifles, so I haven’t gotten the chance to ask.” She made a beeline for Allen’s platform’s ladder, and Brandt caught her by the wrist to stop her.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Providing backup,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re going to turn down the best backup you’ve got when we might have a serious problem on our hands.”
Brandt wanted to protest again, but instead he shook his head and let go of her wrist. “Fine, but be careful. Remember, you’re protecting more than just yourself.”
“Duly noted,” Cade said. She stepped away and climbed the ladder.
Brandt tore his eyes away from her and climbed the ladder to Keith’s platform; the other man met him at the top, offering a hand.
“What’s going on?” Brandt asked.
Keith handed him the binoculars and pointed to the highway beyond the community. “Big problem,” he said. “Really big problem.”
Brandt pressed the binoculars to his eyes as Keith continued.
“Looks like four survivors.”
“And a shitload of infected,” Brandt added as he observed the approaching chaos. There were dozens upon dozens of infected, clogging the street several blocks away from the community, too many to count. Brandt hadn’t seen that many infected in one place since the outbreak in Atlanta more than a year before. “How many do you think there are?”
“Hard to say,” Keith admitted. He squinted into the distance at the approaching mass. “I’d guess somewhere north of four hundred. Maybe even on the cusp of five. I’m not good at judging crowd size, though.”
“One infected is too many infected,” Brandt muttered. He used his finger to focus the binoculars, searching the front of the crowd until he spotted the four survivors Keith had mentioned. The two in the lead looked young, a man and a woman, their torsos wrapped in Kevlar. They carried more weapons than most survivors. Behind them were two more survivors, both hanging back, running interference. And as he studied the man and woman bringing up the rear, his stomach sank.
“Jesus, Remy’s out there!” he excla
imed. “It’s Remy and Dominic! How the fuck did they get out there?”
“Did you say that was Remy and Dominic?” Cade called from the other platform. Brandt saw she was snapping a magazine into her rifle. She pulled the bolt back and propped the rifle over the top of the wall.
“Yes!”
Cade mouthed the words “what the fuck” as she positioned herself to provide cover fire. Brandt turned his attention back to the approaching horde, and Keith spoke up.
“There’s enough space between them and the infected that we could…” Keith trailed off. It wasn’t necessary for him to finish, though, because even if there wasn’t distance between the horde and the survivors, Brandt would give the same order.
“Drop the ladder. Get them up here,” Brandt said. “Cade and I will provide cover fire.”
“And after they’re in?”
“Quarantine,” Brandt said, signaling to Cade. She nodded and took aim.
Keith grabbed the rope ladder and tossed one end of it over the wall, even as Brandt and Cade opened fire.
Chapter 12
With the first bullet fired from her rifle, Cade began to feel like a normal person again. It’d been so long since she’d shot at something that she had begun to feel useless beside everyone else. Perched on the platform across from Brandt’s with her rifle resting over the top of the wall, she squinted through the scope mounted on top of her Galil and aimed for the infected who were closest to the four survivors. The squeeze of the trigger and the jolt of the bullet leaving the rifle settled her nerves. In an instant, she fell back on the years of training she’d received and utilized in Israel.
Deep in her belly, her unborn child stirred, roused by the loud gunfire. She paused in her sharpshooting long enough to massage a hand over her swollen abdomen, trying to soothe the child so she could focus on the action below. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by a kicking fetus. Not when four people’s lives depended on her shooting skills, and she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—rely on Brandt to pick up the slack.
There was a flutter of movement in the corner of her right eye. A quick glance revealed Keith unfurling the rope ladder down the side of the wall. The girl below made a line for it without being prompted, hauling the unknown boy along with her by one arm. As they reached the ladder, the girl swung the boy around behind her, grabbing a roped rung. She yelled something at him, and he made an angry hand gesture. The girl whirled around to face the infected coming toward them, racking the slide of her shotgun and aiming it into the crowd. She fired.
Cade was impressed by the young woman’s bravery. Though she was sure the horde of infected, lumbering down the street and spilling into yards, were out of the shotgun’s range, it was good to know the girl wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Cade turned her attention back to the infected. She adjusted her aim and opened fire again, rhythmically shooting down one infected after the other before her rifle ran empty. Allen Durst had already pulled a fresh magazine from her bag and had it ready for her. It took her seconds to reload, and by the time she aimed the weapon back at the street, the boy had nearly reached the top of the wall. Brandt stopped shooting long enough to set his rifle aside and help the boy up, hauling him by his arms onto the platform. “Get a move on, would you?” Brandt yelled to the girl.
The girl glanced up at Brandt, fired another blast at the crowd, then slung her shotgun onto her shoulder by its strap. She grasped the rope ladder. Cade fired at the group of infected that Remy and Dominic were fighting against, trying to give them cover as the girl scaled the ladder with all the dexterity and agility her companion had lacked.
Then it was Remy and Dominic’s turn. Both of them were still too far away from the wall for Cade’s comfort; they were at least fifty yards away from safety. Dominic pushed Remy toward the ladder, but Remy resisted—unsurprisingly—and started yelling at him, jabbing her finger in the direction of the infected. Dominic seemed to be swearing as he shook his head and ran to the ladder, starting to climb it energetically, wasting no time as Remy backed toward the wall and fired into the infected.
An infected woman, one of the fast-moving ones, closed in on Remy’s left. Her hands darted out, grabbing at Remy’s sleeve, scrabbling for purchase on her jacket. Remy twisted her arm out of the woman’s grip and put her pistol against the woman’s forehead. At that range, she couldn’t miss. The woman dropped back to the pavement with a hole in her head, the back of her skull splattered against the infected behind her.
The gap the woman’s body left was immediately filled by more infected, clustering up against each other, trying to reach for Remy, almost bottlenecking themselves in their frantic haste. Remy sped up her retreat, and Cade tracked her through her scope, trying to keep up with where the woman was. Despite the harrowing situation she was in, Remy’s gun was steady and her aim was true, and she was methodical as she fired bullets into the infected, never missing aim for a second. No fear showed on her face; her expression was one of grim determination. Cade tried to help, shooting at Remy’s attackers as rapidly as she could.
But then, as Cade had known would inevitably happen, Remy ran out of ammunition and was forced to stop and reload. The infected swarmed her, taking her down underneath so many of them that Cade lost sight of her.
“Remy!” Cade screamed. She scanned the horde, searching for any sign of her friend underneath the heap of infected that had fallen on top of her. As she did so, she had horrible flashbacks from several months before, when a similar crowd had swallowed up Remy outside of the Westin. Then, Dominic had waded in and rescued her, and now he looked like he was ready to do the same again.
He hung from halfway up the ladder, grasping it with one hand, his pistol in his right hand. He aimed it into the crowd, firing occasionally, picking off infected when he could.
Cade joined his efforts, taking aim and shooting the infected on the outer fringes of the pile that was on Remy. Then there was a flash of failing sunlight against something metal, and suddenly, Remy burst out from underneath the crowd, swinging her bolo knife like a wild woman, slashing at bodies and cutting at grasping hands and fingers. Limbs went flying, tumbling down to the pavement in splashes of blood, both old and new.
Once Remy had emerged from the mess, blood covered but alive, Cade swung her rifle around and fired with renewed vigor. Another shot echoed in close proximity to hers, and the infected woman in her sights fell to the ground, two bullets having torn her head apart. Cade smiled, knowing Brandt had her back, and took aim at another.
Below, Remy whirled on her heel and sprinted the last thirty yards to the ladder. Dominic made a desperate lunge for the top of the wall, clearing the ladder so Remy had enough room to begin her climb.
The first wave of infected reached the wall and slammed into it with enough force that Cade felt the impact on the platform. She grabbed the wall as the platform swayed and settled. Beside her, Allen did the same. After the platform steadied, Cade looked over the wall.
Several of the infected had grabbed the rope ladder that swayed tantalizingly above their heads. They pulled on it until one side dislodged from the top of the wall.
Remy began to climb faster.
Cade cursed and let go of the wall, repositioned her rifle, and pulled the trigger. She shot two more infected as Remy scrambled for the top of the wall, but she couldn’t shoot them fast enough. The rope ladder threatened to rip free under the weight of Remy—and under the weight of the infected who still hung from the bottom.
“Remy, move your ass!” Dominic yelled from where he hung. “Come on, faster!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!” Remy yelled back, sounding, if anything, irritated at his words.
“Not fast enough!” Dominic snapped. “If you don’t pick it up, I’m not teaching you shit!”
That statement seemed to spur Remy into action. She climbed up two more rungs, putting her almost in reach of Keith’s hands. With a snap, the other side of the rope ladder broke free. R
emy didn’t let out a sound as she started to fall, but Cade gasped and lunged toward her a few inches, as if somehow she could prevent the young woman’s tumble into the hands reaching for her below.
But then Remy jerked to a stop as quickly as she’d fallen. Dominic hung by one arm from the top of the wall, his other hand clasped around Remy’s wrist. His muscles bulged, and his face was strained with the struggle to hold her above the fray. Cade hovered, her rifle trained at the infected just below Remy’s feet, ready to fire if any of them managed to get their hands on her. Brandt stopped firing, and he and Keith were reaching, stretching for the young woman. Cade sent every prayer she knew to whomever was listening. She chanted under her breath, “Come on, come on.”
Dominic hauled her within reach of Brandt’s grasping hands. Brandt gripped the back of her shirt and pulled. Between him, Keith, and Dominic, they dragged Remy onto the platform. She crawled several feet, making room for the next arrival, and slouched down onto her stomach, panting and sweating. Then Brandt and Keith pulled Dominic over the wall. He too collapsed onto the platform, lying on his back, his chest heaving.
By her count, Cade had two bullets left in the magazine attached to her rifle. With Dominic and Remy and the two newcomers pulled to safety, she ceased fire. There was no point in wasting more ammunition. She couldn’t shoot all of the infected who pushed at the community’s gates. Not that she wouldn’t have liked to.
“Allen, stay here and keep an eye on those things,” Cade ordered, slinging her rifle onto her shoulder. She adjusted the strap, to make sure the weapon was secure, and climbed down the ladder. When she felt solid ground beneath her tennis shoes, she breathed a sigh of relief before turning toward the other platform.
Brandt, Dominic, and Remy had already descended the ladder, and the two newcomers waited at the foot of it, the girl—as always—standing protectively close to the boy. Brandt glared at Remy and Dominic, his jaw bulging as he clenched it. The tableau was silent, save for the hammering of hands against wood and the loud moaning and groaning from the other side of the wall. Cade glanced in that direction, but she didn’t have time to worry about that right now, not with the questions stirring in her head. She stormed toward the small group, fists clenched. When she drew close enough for them to hear, she snarled out, “Remy Angellette! What the fuck were you doing outside that wall?”
The Becoming (Book 4): Under Siege Page 9