It didn’t surprise him that Sadie wasn’t in it. She’d never been one to sleep through the night, usually no more than a few hours at a time. She had become paranoid, jumping at the slightest sounds, hovering by the closed tent flap, weapon in hand.
He couldn’t blame her for the paranoia. He’d gotten to be a little paranoid too. Considering there were zombies stomping around in the world now, he supposed it was a healthy paranoia, which was better than the kind that turned a person into a gibbering mess. At least this kind of paranoia only gave him an itchy trigger finger, which had saved his and his sister’s lives on more than one occasion.
His own weapons were laid out on the dresser top in a neat, militaristic row. His Kevlar was draped over the back of a chair. He picked up the Kevlar and started to look it over, making sure its integrity hadn’t been compromised during the last fight he and Sadie had been involved in. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he shrugged the vest on, fastening catches and snaps and buckles and bits of Velcro until its snug familiarity gave him assurance. Then he started on his weapons.
Holsters and sheaths found their ways onto belts and straps and around thighs, guns and knives and ammunition slid into pockets and against leather until he was standing by the dresser with twenty pounds added to his slight frame, shotgun in hand, ready to take on the world.
Now he just had to figure out where to take it on at.
Jude made one more pass around the room, checking for anything he’d forgotten—he didn’t know when he’d be able to return—and then grabbed his low profile backpack, sliding it onto his shoulders and settling it into place. It was identical to his sister’s, which sat on the floor beside her bed, slouching there like an insolent toddler. He sat down on the edge of the chair long enough to double-knot his boot’s laces and then headed for the bedroom door, intent on exploring his new environment and looking for weak points in security.
The hallway was quiet and still, no sign of anyone anywhere. The doors lining the hallway were shut, so he closed his own. Last line of defense against zombies and all that. He could see how someone would come to that conclusion, though he knew exactly how effective a simple closed door was against zombies: not the slightest. His father would attest to that, if he were still alive.
Jude draped the strap of his shotgun over his shoulder, letting it bump against his back as he started for the stairs. He paused at the top for a moment, listening carefully for signs of danger; all he heard were two voices, both female. One belonged to his sister. He headed downstairs and out the front door, as silent as a ghost. No one noticed his exit.
It was dark outside, the only illumination coming from the almost-full moon. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. The air smelled fresh and crisp, like cut pine and late summer, and he drew as much of it as he could into his lungs, holding it in, as if to cleanse them, before he blew the breath out and opened his eyes again. The stars loomed overhead. He studied them, trying to figure out the time—his watch had been broken during the fight he and Sadie had engaged in earlier, when a zombie had gotten too close and he’d resorted to punching it in the face. He gave up when his tired mind couldn’t remember the astronomy lessons his father had given him when he was younger.
A rifle pop sounded nearby, reminding him of why he had come outside to begin with. He abandoned his gaze at the nighttime sky and shifted it toward the front gates.
He wondered fleetingly what had become of Remy and Dominic; he hadn’t seen them since entering Woodside. He hoped neither of them had gotten in trouble for bringing them here.
On one of the platforms was a man, tall and lean, a rifle cradled in his hands as he stared down over the gates at the commotion below. Jude nodded decisively and started in that direction, climbing the aluminum ladder bolted to the platform, the same one he’d practically slid down earlier. He mounted the platform cautiously.
The man half-turned to look at him and gave him a small smile. “Hi,” he said. He turned away before Jude could return the greeting with a wave, focusing his eyes below. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s dangerous.”
Jude shrugged, even though the man wasn’t able to see the gesture, and stepped forward to lean against the wall.
The man looked at him. “You’re not a very talkative one, are you?” he asked.
Jude held up a finger, indicating for the man to give him a moment, and then shrugged his backpack off one shoulder and swung it around. He dug inside until he came up with a pad of paper and a pen. He hadn’t had to use paper in a long time, but Sadie had always made sure he had some handy in case he had to communicate with someone who didn’t know sign language. He uncapped his pen with his teeth and wrote, as neatly as he could manage, “I’m mute. I can’t talk.” Then he held it up so the man could see it.
The man’s eyes skimmed the note. “Wow. I’ve never met anyone who was mute before. Have you always been like that, or…?”
Jude shook his head. “Since I was eight,” he wrote, and he paused before adding, “I’m Jude, by the way.”
The man smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Keith.” He offered Jude his hand, and Jude shook it. “I’m generally in charge of the guys we use to guard the community. Obviously, we’re not doing too good of a job of it.” He motioned toward the zombies, then paused, raised his rifle, and aimed. One of the zombies had started to climb the pile of dead ones mounded at the foot of the gates. With a single shot, Keith put a neat hole in the climber’s forehead and knocked him back.
“Nice shot,” Jude scrawled underneath the last note. Keith read it and smiled.
“Thanks. I used to go out deer hunting a lot before all of this went down.” He waved his hand, indicating the world at large. “Now, I just shoot the infected.”
Jude didn’t miss the way Keith’s eyes slid up and down him, like he was assessing him. Jude flushed and distracted himself by writing down another question for the other man. “Where are you from?”
Keith glanced at the note and shrugged. “Muscle Shoals, Alabama,” he answered. “You?”
Jude smiled slightly, happy to be having a conversation with someone other than his sister and without his sister here to interpret for him. He hadn’t done this in so long that he’d almost forgotten what it was like. He was a fast writer, so the pen and pad exchange wouldn’t slow their conversation. He scribbled, “My sister and I are from Cartersville, Georgia. It’s about an hour outside of Atlanta.”
Keith winced. “Oh hell, so you guys got hit pretty quick by Michaluk.”
“Not even any warning,” Jude confirmed. “It wasn’t there one day, and then it was.”
“Family?”
He shrugged and added, “Except for Sadie, they’re all dead.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Keith said. He sounded like he actually meant it. Jude shrugged again and chewed on the end of his pen, trying to decide what to say next. While he was excited to be communicating with someone besides Sadie, he suddenly had no idea what to say. He twirled his pen between his fingers, watching the zombies below that reached for him.
Keith motioned to Jude’s shotgun. “You any good with that thing?”
“About as good as I can be,” Jude answered, truthfully. “My dad taught me and my sister how to shoot and how to survive.”
Keith nodded and motioned towards the world beyond. “So where have you two been hiding out at since this went to shit?”
“In the woods, mostly,” Jude wrote.
“No shit?” Keith sounded surprised. “This whole time?”
Jude shrugged. “For a few months, we lived in houses. Then Mom died. We kept getting harassed by zombies and didn’t want to deal with it anymore. We got our stuff together and went to the woods. Been there ever since. Until today.”
“Impressive,” Keith complimented, and Jude grinned. “I heard a little about what happened out there with you, your sister, Remy, and Dominic. Must have been some fight.”
Jude nodded. “It was,” he a
greed. “Sadie and I had a handle on it. If they hadn’t jumped in, I think we still would’ve beaten the zombies back.”
“Why do you keep calling them zombies?” Keith asked.
“Why do you keep calling them the infected?” Jude retorted, and Keith laughed.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. “I call them the infected because everyone here does. Because, I think, Dr. Rivers started it. Or someone from the core group did, I’m not sure.”
“Core group?”
“Yeah, core group,” Keith said. “The ones who founded the place.” He started counting them off on his fingers. “Brandt, Cade, Derek, Kimberly, Remy, Dominic, and that infected guy Ethan.”
“Ethan is infected?” Jude asked, feeling alarm rising up in him. Ethan had seemed fine when he’d seen him earlier. Then he remembered the scars he’d seen all over the man’s forearms. “How so?” he wrote.
“I’m not sure of the mechanics of it,” Keith said. “I just know he got bitten and then somehow got cured. But he’s still got these weird side effects and stuff that, quite frankly, make me uncomfortable.” Before Jude could ask for more details, the sound of a whistle, short like a signal, chirped out from the main house.
“What’s that?” Jude scribbled. He held the pad up for Keith to see.
“Committee meeting,” Keith answered. “They’re meeting about something. Probably what to do about these guys.” He nodded toward the zombies—the infected, Jude mentally corrected—that were throwing themselves against the wall just thirty feet below. “You should go to it,” he suggested. “See how the community works.”
“Are you coming?”
Keith shook his head. “No, someone’s got to stay and keep an eye on things right here,” he said, motioning to the infected. “They keep piling up and climbing over, or at least trying to. I’ve got to keep them from doing that.”
Jude nodded and glanced toward the main house, assessing how much time he had to join the proceedings. He could see Dr. Rivers hurrying from the house next door, a small stack of papers in his hands. Brandt stood in the frame of the front door, waiting on him.
“I’ll see you later then, yeah?” Jude finally wrote. “I’ll come keep you company. It’s too stuffy in that house.”
“Yeah, it can get a bit claustrophobic around here,” Keith agreed. “See you later.”
Jude tucked the notepad into his pocket, gave Keith a final wave, and then scooped up his shotgun, returning it to his shoulder. He grabbed the top of the aluminum ladder and practically slid to the grass. Then he jogged toward the house where the committee was meeting, curious about what was going to happen and what they were going to do.
Chapter 22
Night had fallen heavily over the community, but the darkness brought no reprieve from the sounds of the infected. If anything, their snarls, moans, and groans seemed all the louder and more ominous with the fall of night. The occasional pop of gunfire didn’t help matters. The unceasing sound was driving Cade slowly crazy, and as if sensing her anxiety, the baby stirred restlessly inside her, rolling and kicking and doing nothing to soothe her nerves. If anything, the baby made everything seem worse, serving as a reminder of everything she stood to lose.
Cade glanced at the people present for their second meeting in as many days. Isaac stood at the foot of the stairs, his large arms folded over his chest, his eyes closed as if he were meditating. Derek sat on the stairs beside him, looking exhausted, his hands surprisingly empty; he usually had a notebook or file folder in his hands in his unceasing work on the viral cure. Ethan was sprawled on the couch beside her, an arm draped along the back, leg resting against his knee. He gave her a small smile when he saw her looking at him. Dominic and Remy were both absent—again—and she couldn’t help but wonder where the hell they’d gotten off to this time. Brandt and Kimberly were talking in low voices in the kitchen, accompanied by the rustle of paper. And on the floor sat the community’s newest arrivals, Sadie and Jude O’Dell, silent as they signed to each other; judging by their facial expressions, they seemed to be arguing. Their presences surprised her, and she leaned close to Ethan and asked in a hushed voice, “What are the civvies doing here?”
Ethan shrugged. “Brandt told me he’s going to pick their brains, since they’ve been in the thick of it recently.”
Cade nodded and settled back in her seat. “So what’s going on in there?” she asked, nodding toward the kitchen. Whatever Brandt and Kimberly were talking about, it was clearly private.
“I’m not sure,” Ethan admitted. He sounded troubled, which drew her eyes back to him. “I was, obviously, not invited.”
“Something going on with you and Kimberly?” Cade asked, a small smile crossing her face as his cheeks flushed red.
“Not at all,” Ethan insisted. He grinned and added, “Yet.”
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to lie—I certainly wouldn’t mind,” he admitted. “I’ve gotten a fair bit…well, attached to her over the past few months. She’s been a huge help.”
“You don’t like her just because you think you’re obligated to, do you?” she asked. “Because I will seriously kick your ass if you hurt her, best friend or not.”
“No, of course not,” Ethan said. “I like her. Genuinely. Even if she hadn’t been taking care of me, I’d still be attracted to her.”
“But fortunately, you got to spend a lot of time with her while she nursed you back to health,” Cade teased. “How’s her bedside manner? Or do you guys call it something else nowadays?”
“If you weren’t pregnant, I swear I’d smack you,” Ethan grumbled, though he was fighting a grin as he said it.
“If I weren’t pregnant and you tried that, you’d end up face down on the floor, begging for mercy and writhing in pain,” Cade quipped.
“Too true.”
“Ladies and gents, we’ve got a problem,” Brandt said as he entered the living room. Kimberly followed, folding a piece of paper. She slipped past him and went to the recliner, sinking into it with obvious exhaustion and worry on her face.
“I don’t think I need to elaborate on what the problem is,” Brandt continued, “but we need to come up with a solution.
“Cade and I were discussing options earlier, and we decided we need to evacuate the community. There are simply too many infected outside to kill off, and we don’t have the ammunition to even try. But, with the front gates completely blocked off, we can’t go out that way anymore. We have to figure out an alternate route out of the community that even the elderly will be able to use, and we have to figure out where to go and how to get there.” He stepped forward and dropped a handful of folded maps onto the coffee table.
There was silence as everyone looked at one another. Brandt’s eyes met Cade’s, and she could read his stress easily. She tried to give him a small, reassuring smile, but she could tell that it hadn’t reached her eyes. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke up to break the silence.
“Reconnaissance,” she said. “We need to figure out our destination, and then we need to gather as much information as possible about the conditions around it. And I think we should scout out a temporary safe location close by to take people to while we look for something more permanent.”
“I’m not sure we have enough time for all of that,” Brandt said, “but we’ll look into it. Anything else?”
“We should go north,” Sadie said.
“Why north?” Cade asked.
“Because there might be military in that direction,” she explained. “If we go that way, maybe we can link up with them and get some extra help.”
“But we’re not sure the military will even help us,” Isaac said. “Wouldn’t they be more focused on fighting the infected than on helping out a bunch of civilians who have already made it this far on their own?”
Brandt nodded. “We can’t count on the military,” he said. “They’ll be concerned with their own objectives. I haven’t heard of any references to sur
vivor camps, so as far as I’m concerned, they don’t exist. If we come across the military and they’re willing to help us, then fine. But hunting them down is not a priority.”
“What about what Kimberly and I are proposing?” Derek asked. His voice sounded weary, with a face to match, and Cade frowned.
“What are you proposing?” she asked.
“We’ll deal with that later,” Brandt said before Derek could answer the question. “Evacuating our people is more important.”
“No, it’s not,” Derek said. He rose halfway off the stair, and Isaac put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He sat back down with an exhausted sigh. “The cure is the most important thing in this community, but I don’t have the ability to finish it. We must get the samples out of here before they’re lost. We must.”
“I understand the urgency,” Brandt said. “Believe me. But in my mind, both of these problems are urgent. I’d like to solve the problem of the defenseless before we move to that one, please.”
“But this problem is faster to solve,” Derek insisted.
“Brandt, what’s going on?” Cade demanded.
Brandt growled low in his throat. “Fine,” he snapped. “Derek and Kimberly want to get some samples out of here and try to hunt down someone that can do something useful with them. Kimberly has volunteered to go, but she needs to know if anyone here knows of someone who they think will be willing to go with her.”
“I’ll go,” Ethan spoke up barely before the last words left Brandt’s lips.
“Ethan, I don’t think you’re healthy enough,” Brandt started to say.
“I’m fine,” Ethan retorted. “I’m perfectly fine. She needs help, and I’m willing to give it to her.”
“You just got off bed rest—”
“And I feel stronger than ever,” Ethan interrupted.
The Becoming (Book 4): Under Siege Page 16