The Becoming

by Jessica Meigs

  “I see you’re up and moving,” Brandt observed. He rubbed his face and scratched a hand through his dark brown hair. “How’s your knee?”

  “It feels a lot better,” Cade admitted. She leaned to rub the appendage in question, kneading it with her fingers, probing for pain. She didn’t feel any. “I think I’ll be okay to run if you want to get out of here.”

  Brandt dragged himself out of his chair and rolled his head from side to side to work the kinks out of his neck. “Are you sure?” he asked. He slipped past her to look out the window.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Absolutely sure?” Brandt pressed. He looked at her, his eyebrows knitted together in a concerned frown. Cade resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “Yes, Brandt. I’m sure,” she said stubbornly.

  They were silent as they studied the street outside. Cade tried to make out a route that would get them out of there, but she couldn’t conceive a path that wouldn’t take them right past a large group of infected. Any plan requiring them to shoot was out of the question; the noise would only draw more infected to their location, and in their exhausted state, they would both be toast. As she pondered the street, a low, deep rumble of thunder sounded over the city. Cade glanced up at the sky with the faintest twinge of nervousness.

  “What do you think?” she asked Brandt. She moved as if to pull her hair back into a ponytail, then made a face as she realized that the rubber band she usually kept around her wrist was missing. So much for that, she thought irritably as she let go of her hair. It fell loose around her shoulders in a curling, tangled mess.

  “I think…” Brandt started. He drew the words out as he too looked up at the sky. A flicker of lightning greeted their upturned eyes, and he grinned. “I think it would be a great idea to wait for that thunderstorm to get here,” he said. “If it’s loud enough, it could mask any sounds we make, and the rain could help cover our movements.”

  Cade brightened at Brandt’s words, and she went to the bag she’d left on the desk. She rooted through it, pulled out a battered little notepad and started to flip through it. “Yeah, you said something in here about the infected and rain,” she said as she focused on the miniscule writing in the pad. “Ah! You said right here that they don’t like the rain, that they tend to hide from it when they can,” she said. She tapped her finger against the page as she looked up at Brandt. He gave her an odd, thoughtful look. “What?” she asked. A touch of impatience marred her voice.

  “Nothing,” Brandt said. “I just … you kept that?”

  “Yeah, I did. It’s got useful information in it,” Cade said. “Why throw it away when we can still use it?” She flipped the cover shut and tucked the notepad back into the bag. “So what’s the plan, Brandt?”

  “You’re actually asking me to make the plan?” Brandt asked. He raised his eyebrows incredulously.

  “Why not?” Cade asked with a shrug. She dug deeper into her bag and pulled out a fresh tank top. She slung the white shirt over her shoulder as Brandt replied.

  “Well, considering the absolute mess I made of getting Remy out of the RV, I figured you wouldn’t want me touching anything remotely resembling a plan,” Brandt admitted.

  “I won’t let you touch anything resembling an emergency exit plan,” Cade teased. She slipped out of her leather jacket and draped it over the back of the office chair before she started to unbutton her blue flannel shirt. “I figure we’ll be okay if you don’t make that half of the plan.”

  Brandt smirked. “Yeah, I don’t have much practice with it anyway,” he said, going along with the joke as Cade wiggled out of her flannel. She grabbed the bottom of her dirty white tank top to pull it off, but she paused as she realized that Brandt was watching her.

  “Hey, mister, this isn’t a striptease. Turn around,” Cade ordered. She laughed and twirled her finger in a circle in midair. It wasn’t that Cade felt self-conscious changing in front of Brandt; far from it, really. The military had a way of beating bashfulness and modesty out of a person, and it had done a sufficient job of it with Cade. She wasn’t squeamish about changing in front of him. But she certainly wasn’t going to give him a free show either. Especially not if it ran the risk of making group cooperation awkward.

  Brandt laughed and shook his head, but he politely turned his back to Cade. Instead, he looked out the window to study the ground below again. Cade suppressed another laugh and quickly donned the new tank top before he got the idea to turn around again. She pulled on her flannel shirt without buttoning it and shrugged on her leather jacket once more.

  “So what’s the plan then?” she finally asked as she joined him at the window again.

  Brandt glanced at her and asked, “You always wear flannel shirts?”

  “They’re the only long-sleeved shirts I packed last month,” Cade replied. “They’re warm and not bulky, so I don’t have to worry about them slowing me down.” She glanced out the window and hummed thoughtfully before she prompted again, “Plan?”

  “Well, I figure we’ll wait until the thunderstorm really gets going,” Brandt said. Another flicker of lightning brightened the street outside. It was much closer than before, and Cade’s nerves felt like they were vibrating under her skin. “We stick close to the building, keeping to the side of it so they can’t completely surround us. As long as we keep them away from us, we should be okay.”

  “And after that?” Cade asked. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  “After that, we get at least a block down the street and find a truck that’s got the keys still in it and enough gas to get us to where Theo, Gray, and Remy should be hiding,” Brandt concluded. Cade raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s the best I can do,” he said defensively. “We don’t have a whole lot of options.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Cade said. “It’s a good plan. Best we can do under the circumstances. I just … what if they’re not there?” she asked. “What if the others had to move? There’s no way we can know where they went if they didn’t leave a note or whatever, so…”

  “So what then?” Brandt finished. “Just means you’d be stuck with me for months and months on end.” The smirk on his face was devious, and Cade gave him a dirty look before she let out a melodramatic groan.

  “Oh God, Heaven help me if that’s the case,” she said. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead as she closed her eyes and mock-fainted. She opened her eyes a crack to peek out at Brandt, and she laughed at the hurt look on his face. “Oh, come on. I’m kidding!” she protested. “It wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, your cooking skills are shit and mine aren’t much better, so we’d probably starve to death eventually, but you’re a damn good shot, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

  Brandt smiled and tugged at Cade’s hair. She laughed and swatted at him as she ducked away from his hand, and she looked back out the window again. “So we’re stuck here until the storm starts,” she said. She leaned against the black metal frame surrounding the large windowpane. “What should we do until then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe…” Brandt tapped his finger against his chin as he looked around the room thoughtfully. Then he shook his head in frustration. “There is absolutely nothing to do in here.”

  “That explains why I’m going nuts with boredom,” Cade said cheerfully. “I’ve been so tempted to roll my chair over to the window and play target practice just to keep from going insane. If it wasn’t for the fact it’d waste ammo, I’d be doing it right now.”

  Brandt snorted and shook his head. “You know, sometimes you scare me,” he said. He retreated to the desk and sat on the edge of it, propping his foot into the seat of the desk chair.

  “Oh good. Mission accomplished,” Cade said with a grin as she turned away from the window.

  Brandt laughed and patted the desk beside him. “Come on, have a seat. I want you to rest your knee as much as possible before we get moving.”

  Cade smiled and sidled over to the desk. She climbed on
to it and made herself comfortable before she relaxed back against her hands. She and Brandt sat in silence and watched the flicker of lightning and listened to the deep rumble of thunder as the storm approached, pushing them closer to their impending escape.

  “So why exactly do you put up with him?” Brandt asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them as they’d both stared out the window.

  Cade startled and blinked, glancing at Brandt. “Put up with who?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Brandt shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “No, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

  Cade directed a light punch at his bicep. “Come on, tell me what you’re talking about,” she urged. “You can’t ask something like that and then be all, ‘No, never mind.’” She dropped her voice and mimicked him, and he laughed softly.

  “I just mean Ethan,” Brandt clarified. “How do you put up with him? And why? I wouldn’t willingly put up with someone like that outside of the world we’re living in now, and you’ve been friends with him for, what, seven years? How do you deal with his bad attitude?”

  “Ethan doesn’t have a bad attitude,” Cade protested. “He’s just … abrupt.”

  “Which is a polite way of saying someone is an asshole,” Brandt pointed out.

  “Yeah, well,” Cade said feebly. She shrugged and bit her lip, looking down at the carpet for a moment before shifting her eyes to the large window before them. “He’s my asshole, so don’t go insulting him, okay?” She chuckled at her own words, and then she lifted her hand to examine the slice in her palm. “My family was from the United States. My mom and dad were born here, and so was my older brother, Caleb,” Cade started to explain. She didn’t dare look at Brandt as she quietly told the story. “My grandparents—my mom’s parents—were from Israel. Before my sister and I were born, my parents decided to move back to Israel, where my grandparents were living again, so they could be closer to their parents. Lindsey and I were born in Israel. We were all in the IDF, like we’re supposed to be, Lindsey and Caleb for two years each. I’m the only one who liked it so much that I stayed in it.”

  When Cade fell silent, Brandt cleared his throat and asked, “You have a brother? You’ve never mentioned a brother. Just Lindsey.”

  “I had a brother,” Cade clarified. Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before she managed to add, “He died when I was twenty-four. There was a bomber, and he was on the bus …” She broke off and shook her head.

  “Oh,” Brandt breathed out as realization dawned on him. He lifted his hand and hesitated before he gently rubbed her back in soothing circles. “I’m so sorry, Cade. That’s … that’s so…” He paused as he tried to find the right words.

  “Senseless?” Cade suggested. She snorted softly. “Most of the deaths in this world are. Hell, our world’s become nothing but senseless.” She pushed her bangs away from her eyes and breathed in deeply. “I should be used to senseless by now.”

  “I don’t think anybody ever gets used to senseless,” Brandt said.

  Cade shook her head and dropped her hand back to her lap. “But you weren’t asking me about my family. You were asking me about Ethan and why I deal with him so willingly.” She ran a hand through her thick hair and started to twist a lock around her fingers, desperately needing to keep her hands busy and her mind distracted. “It’s because he acts like a dead replica of Caleb,” she explained. “So much like him it’s almost scary. And when I moved back to America when I was twenty-five, he was the first person to befriend me. He was there for me when my grandparents passed, when my mom and dad both passed, and now when the whole world has pretty much passed. We’re like brother and sister because of all the shit we’ve been through. So that’s why I deal with his asshole attitude.”

  Silence hovered as Cade finished her story, as short as it was and as little as she’d been willing to tell. A rumble of thunder in the distance hung between them. Brandt let out a soft breath and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Shit, Cade,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Cade said, tracing the seam of her jeans with her finger. “It’s just the way it is, you know? Nothing to be sorry about.”

  An hour later found them still sitting on the desk, still waiting on the storm to begin. Cade was disappointed; it was one of those typical winter thunderstorms that rolled through the south and dumped a ton of rain on whatever random spot it chose. She was growing concerned that the block of buildings where she and Brandt hid wouldn’t be one of those random spots. She hesitated and glanced at Brandt. “What if it doesn’t storm?”

  “Oh, it will,” Brandt said. His eyes were steely with determination.

  “But what if it doesn’t?” Cade persisted. She pressed the issue as she slid off the desk to look out the window. “What then?” she continued. “Does that mean we’ll be stuck here until another storm comes around?”

  Brandt didn’t answer her question right away. Another rumble of thunder shook the windowpane, and Cade turned to him. Instead of watching her as she’d assumed, he had his eyes glued to the door behind them. One hand was raised in her general direction as if to preempt anything she might say. Cade frowned and watched him curiously as he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I heard something,” Brandt replied. He glanced back at Cade before he left his perch on the edge of the desk and headed toward the office door.

  Cade frowned and shook her head. She was at a loss as to why it mattered. “Brandt, you’ve been saying you’ve heard something for two days now,” Cade said. “Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?”

  But even as Cade voiced her question, the faint sound of banging and thudding coming from outside the office became more audible as she drew closer to the door. She paused in mid-step behind Brandt and sucked in a breath as she squeezed her eyes closed and focused on the sound. And even as she struggled to listen, she knew exactly what she was hearing. Her eyes snapped open.

  “Is it coming from our floor?” she asked in a rush of breath. She grabbed the back of Brandt’s jacket in a tight grip to get his attention. “Have they made it up here?”

  “Stay here. I’ll go check,” Brandt said. Cade opened her mouth to object, but the look Brandt gave her warned her not to push it. Instead, she simply nodded and stood back to give him room to open the door. Brandt drew his gun and stepped out into the hall. He left the door cracked, and Cade watched his progress from the spot beside the door.

  Brandt eased into the center of the carpeted hallway. His steps were slow and measured as he worked his way down to the end of the hall. The noise was loudest near the stairwell door. Cade swallowed hard as a nervous flutter worked its way into her stomach. She recognized the same feeling on Brandt’s face as he rested his hand flat against the steel exit door. He hesitated and looked back at Cade for a moment. Then he pushed it open slowly and disappeared into the dark stairwell.

  Cade watched anxiously for Brandt to reappear. She bit her lip and grabbed for her gun in case she needed to back him up. But it wasn’t necessary. Brandt stumbled back into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. He fumbled at it for a moment as if he were seeking a lock before he gave up and ran back down the hall to Cade.

  “They’re in the stairwell, one floor down,” Brandt said breathlessly as he burst back into the office. He slammed the door shut and locked it before he shoved one of the visitors’ armchairs against it for good measure. “And on every floor below it. They’re working their way up the stairs. They’re slow, but they’re going to be up here within twenty minutes, if we’re lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Cade repeated. “Define lucky. Twenty minutes doesn’t equal lucky in my world!”

  “We’ll be lucky if we get the full twenty minutes,” Brandt said. His eyes darted around the office frantically. “It’ll probably be less. I’m giving us the max. Makes me feel better.”

  “Fuck,” Cade breathed out. She
rested her hand against the gun on her hip again as she glanced at the door. “What are we going to do?”

  “Well, I have an idea, but I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it,” Brandt said. He’d begun to dig into his shoulder bag. He knocked several packages of vending machine crackers out of it as he pulled out a long, thin coil of rope that Cade hadn’t been aware he’d had.

  “What’s the rope for, Brandt?” Cade asked. She made a face at the faint tremor in her voice.

  “You ever go rappelling?” he asked.

  “Rappelling,” Cade repeated blankly.

  “Yeah. The IDF covered that with you in training, right?” Brandt prompted. He dumped the rope on the desk and started to unwind it, straightening it and shaking the kinks out.

  “Of course, but…” Cade trailed off as the impact of Brandt’s question suddenly hit her. “Brandt, you aren’t seriously suggesting we rappel down the side of a building, are you?”

  “What other choice do we have?” Brandt began to wrap the rope in a loose loop from his wrist to his elbow, staring at Cade as he did so.

  “We don’t even have any equipment!” Cade protested. “I mean, yeah, we got a rope. But there’s no harness or anchor, and we definitely don’t have a carabiner or anything! And you expect us to just … go down the side of the building?”

  “Anchor,” Brandt said simply. He patted his hand firmly on the top of the mahogany desk. “And you’re wearing a belt. We can make it work as a sort of harness if you’re not brave enough to go down the side of the building without one.”

  “You can’t really expect a belt to—”

  “Cade. Shut up,” Brandt ordered. He dropped the rope on the desk and braced both hands against it. His gaze was steady as he looked at her. “We don’t have a choice, okay? Unless you really want to go out down the stairwell and end up dying when you run out of bullets.”

  “You’re assuming we won’t die rappelling down the side of the fucking building,” Cade shot back. She crossed her arms firmly over her chest. Despite her protestations, though, she knew Brandt was right. It wasn’t that she was scared of dying—far from it; she had become accustomed to the idea of death during her first tour of duty. What did frighten her was the idea of throwing herself off the side of a building with nothing but a thin rope and five stories of air between her and the street.