Gray let out a breath that was a perfect mixture of relief and annoyance. “Oh God, Brandt, a little warning next time?” he requested, dropping his own gun to the metal tailgate beside him. “You know how jumpy being out like this is making me. Waving that damn thing around doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Feeling exposed, huh?” Cade’s voice said from behind the two men.
Gray turned his head at the sound of her words, and he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, fairly.”
Cade moved to join him and Brandt at the end of the truck, sitting on her knees just behind Brandt and taking her rifle from him. Her dark hair was tangled and still wet, plastered to her forehead and cheeks. If Gray had had a hairbrush, he’d have given it to her.
“You don’t know exposed until you get into Atlanta,” Brandt said, his voice mild and tinged with exhaustion. “Downtown, there’s nothing but buildings all around you. There’s no clear line of sight. And there’s a shit-ton of places for those bastards to hide. Plenty of places for you to hide too, fortunately, but that’s assuming they haven’t chosen the same spot you have.” Brandt waved his hand, indicating the congested highway before them. “Out here is nothing. This doesn’t bother me. There’s hardly anything to even worry about, and we’ve dealt with, what, one infected guy since we left the safe house? This is a fucking vacation. You won’t see me get nervous until we actually get into Atlanta.”
“So we’re still going in then?” Gray asked. He looked first at Brandt and then shifted his eyes in the direction of the embankment, across the highway, over the makeshift concrete barricade that separated the two sides of the highway. He thought of the battered van at the bottom of the hill, a makeshift tomb for the youngest member of their group.
“Yes,” Brandt said simply. “We have to, if we go with my plan.”
“No,” a voice spoke up. Gray, Brandt, and Cade turned to see Ethan sitting straighter at the back of the truck, watching them steadily through the dark interior. He still looked pale and wan, but the expression in his green eyes was all hardness and coldness. He shook his head, and his eyes met each of theirs in turn. “We can’t go. We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Brandt asked. Gray could see gears begin to turn in Brandt’s head as the older man’s back stiffened and he too sat up straighter. The Marine was obviously grinding up for an argument. Gray hoped he wouldn’t be dragged into it.
“Because it’s too fucking dangerous. You said so yourself, Brandt,” Ethan pointed out. “Or have you conveniently forgotten your own argument against us going in the first place?”
Brandt let out a slow breath, as if he were trying to steady his nerves and not start a fight with Ethan, and then shook his head. “I have not. And I’m not going back on that either. I’m not saying I want to go into Atlanta. I’m saying we have to.” His voice was surprisingly calm and steady, though he appeared to Gray as one warring with something inside himself. Brandt turned to face the inside of the truck so he could see them all, and he said suddenly, “Avi is right.”
Avi blinked in confusion and frowned at Brandt, raising an eyebrow. “I’m right?” she repeated. “I … I haven’t even said anything.”
“No, I mean about Atlanta. About the government,” Brandt clarified. “You’re right about them hiding something about the Michaluk Virus.” Gray and the others perked up at Brandt’s statement, and Gray twisted to face Brandt.
“Wait, you know something about Michaluk that you haven’t told us before?” Theo asked.
Brandt paused for a moment, hesitating, and Gray wondered why the older man would look so uncertain about what he was about to say. “I don’t know very much,” Brandt said. “But what I do know is more than common knowledge.” He stood up in the back of the truck, balancing against the tailgate, and grasped the canopy above his head. He looked almost like a professor about to give a lecture. “I wasn’t supposed to know any of it. I had a friend named Derek who worked for the CDC,” Brandt explained slowly. “I was never clear on the details, but there was some sort of … I don’t know what. A serum or a drug or an antibody or something that was either discovered or developed in the lab. The government had the CDC doing tests and studies with it for an unspecified use. There was talk about benefits for certain types of diseases, but I don’t think I ever really believed that version of the story.
“Anyway, I was told by Derek that the federal government had both hands in on the testing, because they were interested in the whatever-it-was. I don’t know why they jumped in on the testing, but the feds started to fund the project at some point in the summer of 2008. They started testing it on animals in October of that year, and since it showed some promise for whatever they wanted it for, they pushed for testing on human subjects entirely too soon. They put out a discreet call for human subjects for clinical trials by December.”
“Why did people never hear about this?” Gray asked. “I mean, you would think there’d be evidence of clinical trials or test subjects talking or something.”
“Because the subjects were culled from the military,” Brandt answered. “They specifically asked for military men and women only. No civilians, only officers and NCOs with a rank of E-6 or higher, Marines preferred. They lived in isolated quarters at the CDC and were required to sign a non-disclosure agreement swearing they wouldn’t tell anyone about what was going on, and they stuck to it. I thought it was an odd way to go about it. Why soldiers and why officers? I asked Derek, but he didn’t know the answer either.”
“Super soldiers,” Remy murmured.
Brandt looked at the young woman, a curious expression on his face. “You know, that thought did cross my mind,” he admitted. “But it seemed a bit outlandish at the time.”
“Wait, what do you mean by super soldiers?” Ethan interrupted.
“Super soldiers,” Remy repeated emphatically. “Have you ever seen the movie Soldier? It’s about genetically enhanced soldiers being used in the military to fight wars or some shit. Had Kurt Russell in it?”
Ethan continued looking lost; obviously he’d never seen the movie, though Gray vaguely remembered seeing it on TV. Brandt shook his head and started speaking again. “Moving on,” he said. He took a slow breath and considered his next words. “I never really believed a word of it. I thought Derek had been smoking too much of the good stuff, if you know what I mean. So I just sort of blew the whole theory off as a bunch of bullshit created by an overactive imagination.
“But then in late January of 2009, I think it was on the twenty-fourth, I was woken up by Derek practically beating down my door. He said there’d been an outbreak of a virus that was spreading very rapidly and causing some serious disorder in the city, and the military had been called out to contain it, to shut it down as fast as humanly possible. A quarantine zone had been established around Emory University, and eventually the entire metro area of Atlanta, and all testing in the CDC on what became the Michaluk Virus was to be terminated immediately.”
A hush descended upon the group at Brandt’s words. The ominous meaning behind the word “terminated” was evident in Brandt’s tone, and they all stared at him. His words had shocked them into some level of submission, as if everyone were afraid to speak, afraid to hear anything more for fear of what he’d say next. But someone had to break the silence, someone had to ask the questions, and Gray decided it might as well be him.
“What exactly did the quarantine entail, Brandt?”
Brandt sank down to the floor of the truck, closing his eyes. Cade slid over to sit beside him, giving him reassurance with a gentle squeeze of his wrist. “The total sealing off of the CDC, the university campus, and later the city itself, at all costs. No one in, no one out. It didn’t matter whether they were infected or not. The military …” He paused and looked away, back down the highway again, staring at the traffic jam before them for a full minute, clutching Cade’s hand tightly. “They had orders. Shoot anyone who attempted to breach the containment areas, regardless of the level of
infection. Civilian or military, it didn’t matter. They didn’t pass.”
“So no one was even given a chance to try to save themselves?” Remy asked in horror. The emotions in her voice were painted onto her face. “They were trapped like … like rats in a cage, and nobody tried to help them?”
Brandt shook his head slowly. “Remy, you have to understand that they had no choice. Once it was understood what the Michaluk Virus did, everything had to be tried to keep the virus contained within that small area. It couldn’t be allowed to spread. The hope was that it would feed on itself and kill itself off after a time. They were trying to keep the world from becoming what it is now.”
“Fucking lot of good that did,” Ethan muttered. He gave Brandt a cold look, and Cade gave it right back to Ethan, the fingers of her free hand flexing against her knee into a warning fist.
“But what about the people still in there?” Remy protested. “Are they still there? Speaking of which, how the hell did you get out of there? The news said that no survivors escaped metro Atlanta when that big battle happened and all those people broke out.”
“People didn’t break out,” Brandt corrected. “The infected did. They organized as best as those things know how, and they attacked en masse. They just completely overwhelmed whatever defenses the military tried to put up. I only just got away, and it was through a combination of luck and training that I even did. Please don’t ask me to describe that. I really don’t want to.”
The group hushed once more as Brandt bowed his head, looking exhausted and numb. Gray tried desperately to process everything he’d learned in that short time, but it seemed almost too much for his brain to handle. He could feel a headache rapidly approaching; he weighed the option of asking Theo for aspirin against the option of toughing the headache out.
The silence was broken again as Gray considered this. But this time, it was Avi who spoke up.
“How did the virus get out in the first place, Brandt?” she asked. “Is what they say about that part of the narrative even true?”
Brandt stared at his lap, and for a moment, Gray thought the older man wasn’t going to answer the question. When he did start talking, though, Brandt’s voice was flat and dull, almost a monotone. “I don’t know all the details of that, either. I only know what I was told, and it had been through several channels by then—official and unofficial ones—so there’s no telling how much was changed from actual record or just flat-out exaggerated. It mainly involved the antibody mutating in one of the test subjects, and someone who worked at the CDC—Kevin Michaluk—getting unknowingly infected before the subject was contained. No one knew it was contagious, and since the virus didn’t officially even exist at that point, Michaluk was allowed to clock out and go home when he should have been quarantined with the rest of the subjects. He infected nearly everyone he came into contact with on the way home, and the following day, he attacked his girlfriend on the MARTA. That’s how it began to spread, and on a crowded bus, that’s how it exploded. In a city with a population the size of Atlanta’s, you’re bound to run into more than a few people to pass the virus on to. It mutated so quickly … caught everyone by fucking surprise.”
“So what exactly are you saying?” Avi asked.
Brandt looked up at them, his eyes focusing on Ethan’s face with a hard expression in them. “We never stood a chance against Michaluk,” he said quietly. “Nobody did. And we still don’t.”
Chapter 30
Remy started awake from a very heavy sleep. She blinked hazily and tried to get her eyes to focus in the dark. She was exhausted, and it took her heavy mind a few moments to slog to the realization of where she was: somewhere just over the Georgia state line, in an abandoned military truck on a barricaded and congested highway. She rubbed her face, grimacing as her fingers brushed against her dirty hair, and squinted at her companions.
They all still slept, reclining in various positions of semi-comfort. It was cold, so there was more huddling against each other than not. Brandt and Cade were at the very end of the cargo area; Brandt sat with his back against the side of the truck, and Cade lay with her head against his leg. Remy smiled slightly and slid her eyes to Avi and Theo, who both sat near Cade’s feet, propped against each other for support. Theo had his arm around Avi, and they looked peaceful in sleep, even considering the fact that the truck was the least comfortable place in which they’d spent the night. Remy was intrigued by their sudden closeness; they’d been particularly talkative the past couple of days, and Theo seemed more sympathetic to Avi’s plight than anyone other than Remy herself. It wasn’t totally surprising. Theo was the type to help people, a lot like Ethan, and he’d help Avi as much as he could.
Gray was near Theo and Avi, on the side closest to the end of the truck. His hand was loosely wrapped around a handgun resting on his thigh. He was supposed to be on watch, but he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. Remy smirked, supposing that his exhaustion had gotten the better of him, and then stretched and looked to Ethan.
He wasn’t there.
That in itself didn’t surprise Remy. Since she’d met him, she’d noticed that Ethan had a restless nature. She’d get up in the middle of the night and find the older man pacing up and down the hallways of whatever safe house they were in, his brain stuck on plans and problems and whatever else bothered him. Usually, once she approached him, they’d go to his room and he’d talk his way through whatever was on his mind. The thought that he was doing the same thing out in the middle of nowhere, in one of the most dangerous regions in the country, didn’t sit well with Remy.
Remy hesitated, uncertain if she should get up to find him. The night before, she’d promised Ethan she’d be more careful and not take so many crazy risks; it was one of the few things he’d ever asked her, and she was determined to do as he requested. Remy looked around the cargo area one more time, as if checking to see if Ethan would just spring out of the truck’s shadows and surprise her, then resigned herself to going after him. Someone had to track him down. Considering his earlier state of mind, it was probably a good idea for her to be the one to do it.
Remy slowly stood and began picking her way around the others, choosing each step with care. The last thing she wanted to do was step on someone and then have to explain where she was going. She eased her foot carefully down beside Cade and slid the next step over Brandt’s legs. She paused at Cade’s duffel and scooped a handgun out of it as silently as possible; she’d lost her own gun in the accident, and she was unwilling to climb down to the van to find it. Remy eased onto the edge of the tailgate and ejected the magazine to make sure the gun was loaded—trusty Cade, it seemed as if all their guns always were, thanks to her monumental efforts—and then clicked the magazine back into place and made sure the safety was on. She slowly slung her legs over the tailgate and dropped to the cracked pavement. After tucking the gun into the waistband of her jeans, she squinted in both directions through the moonlit night and tried to decide where to start looking for Ethan. Her first instinct was the van, so she headed that way first.
Remy walked quietly across the road, climbing over the concrete barricade between the two lanes with less grace than she’d have liked, and paused at the top of the embankment to look at the remains of the van. It still sat on its roof, the tires jutting up toward the sky like the legs of a dead animal. Remy thought of Nikola inside of it, all alone, and shuddered. She wished there were a way they could give her a proper burial. But they didn’t have the equipment, time, or security needed to do so.
Remy didn’t see any movement near the van, so she continued on. She turned left and walked alongside the road, her boots crunching softly over the gravel lining the edge of the pavement, on alert for any unusual movement or sounds. She glanced to the truck again and noticed movement in the cab. Frowning, Remy headed to it and climbed over the barricade again, freeing her gun from her jeans and easing up to the passenger door. Remy flipped the safety off, and her hand found the door handle. She too
k a deep, steadying breath—it’d be her luck that she’d open the door and one of the infected would fall out of the truck—and then flung the door open with a loud creak. Remy jerked her gun up and pointed it inside the cab, only to find a gun aimed at her face in return.
“Jesus, Remy,” an exasperated voice said from the dim interior. Remy let out a breath of relief and lowered her gun, turning the safety back on but keeping the weapon in her hand. “I almost shot you.”
“I was just looking for you,” Remy replied. She gave Ethan a smile, despite the chill that ran down her spine at the fact that she’d just faced down a deadly weapon and likely escaped death in the process. “You weren’t in the back of the truck.”
“I needed some time to myself,” Ethan said. He set the gun on the dashboard and relaxed back onto the long bench seat again, a leg on the seat, knee bent, his other foot resting flat on the floor. Remy eyed him for a moment and then grabbed the doorframe and hoisted herself in. “Come on, let me in here with you,” she urged, batting lightly at the foot on the seat and balancing precariously on the doorframe. “It’s fucking cold in the back.”
Ethan nodded and sat up, backing against the driver’s door. He dropped both feet to the floor and patted the cracked seat beside him. “Yeah, sure. Come on in. You cold?”
“Just a bit chilly,” Remy admitted. She pulled herself into the cab and settled beside Ethan, closing the door quietly behind her. She relaxed against the seat with a sigh and watched Ethan for a minute before she spoke again. “You okay?”
“As good as can be expected,” Ethan said with a shrug. He let out a heavy breath of his own and added, “Thinking and shit, you know?” He reached down to the floorboard, groping about and pulling free a bottle of water. “Drink?”
The Becoming: Ground Zero Page 17