The Becoming: Revelations

by Jessica Meigs

  A soft scratching sound met Ethan’s ears. His head jerked up, and he looked at the door in time to see a slip of paper slide underneath it. Footsteps in the hall rapidly walking away accompanied the paper’s appearance.

  Ethan hesitated as he stared at the paper lying innocuously on the carpet. Then he darted off the end of the bed and snatched it up, clenching it tightly in trembling fingers. It was a note carefully printed in pencil, short, sweet, and straight to the point.

  E—

  Be ready. 9:00 p.m.

  —K

  A surge of something resembling a mix of relief and hope rushed through Ethan’s body. He stared at the paper a moment longer, reading and rereading Kimberly’s words. He realized he was holding his breath only when his chest began to ache, and he let it out with a gasp. He crumpled the torn piece of notebook paper in his fist.

  They were going to do something. They were going to help him. And then maybe they could get out of this hotel, maybe make a life of their own somewhere else. Where they could determine for themselves what they should do and when they should do it. Somewhere outside of Alicia’s control.

  Ethan walked briskly across the room, still clutching the note. He looked around wildly, trying to find a place to hide it, and settled on simply shoving it into his pants pocket. He began to gather the few belongings he had left in his possession. There wasn’t much; a lot of it he couldn’t have cared less if he never saw again. But there was the locket, still hanging from its broken chain. That was one thing he refused to allow out of his sight again; the heart-stopping time when he’d believed it gone for good had been relieved when Kimberly had located and given him his bag the evening before. He tucked the locket into his pocket alongside the note, where it’d be safer than in the bag.

  As Ethan packed, his mind hung onto thoughts of his friends, both old and new. His brain kept tripping over the same single question he’d entertained for the past five hours.

  What in the hell is going on?

  Chapter 31

  It’d taken half the night, but Brandt had managed to push past the ever-growing ache and pain in his shoulder and forearm, the nausea churning in his gut, and the pounding in his head in order to get some rest. It was a rest he neither wanted nor needed, but he took it anyway; he knew if he didn’t, Gray would breathe down his neck during the entire journey to Atlanta.

  Sometimes, Brandt thought Gray acted entirely too much like Theo. He hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or not yet.

  Brandt gingerly rotated his stiff shoulder as he stood at the opened back door of the Escalade, feeling the crinkle of gauze and medical tape wrapped around his shoulder and bicep. He waited for Remy to emerge from the thick trees at the side of the road. Gray was already in the Escalade’s driver seat, uselessly twisting knobs on the vehicle’s in-dash radio. Brandt didn’t bother saying anything to him about it anymore; the younger man never listened anyway. Brandt figured Gray had his reasons for the ritual, and he was sure it was mostly hope that he’d hear some semblance of civilization amidst the static. Brandt wouldn’t begrudge him that.

  Sometimes, Brandt thought Ethan did too good a job instilling hope in the younger members of the group.

  Brandt huffed out an impatient breath and rested his hand lightly against his holstered Beretta. Remy was taking too long—typical female—and he was ready to get moving again.

  “Remy! Come on! Get the lead out!” Brandt called out. He contemplated going into the trees after her. He was sure he’d probably see something he’d later regret, and he was positive Remy would never forgive him if he did, but the potential for the resultant amusement was intriguing.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Remy replied irritably. She emerged from the trees, brushing her clothes off and grimacing at Brandt.

  Brandt took her backpack and flung it into the back of the SUV before pushing the door shut. “It’s about time,” he teased.

  “Hey, you guys have it easy, okay?” Remy protested. “Don’t blame me. Blame Mother Nature.”

  Brandt snorted out a laugh and motioned to Remy. “Well fine then. Get in the car. I want to make it to Atlanta by this evening.”

  “Think we can get there that soon?” Remy asked. Brandt heard the heavy doubt in her voice. “I mean, last month it took several days just to travel two hundred miles. This time, we’re talking … what?”

  “Three-eighty,” Brandt clarified. He went to the back passenger door and started to open it for Remy.

  Remy stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We’ve only traveled, like, eighty of those miles. And you’re proposing we do three hundred in less than twelve hours?”

  “We’ve traveled one-twenty-five, Remy, not eighty,” Brandt corrected. “You slept part of the way. And besides, when we last went to Atlanta, we had to walk a good portion of the way, and we were traveling with twice as many people as we’ve got now. If we stick to the highways and avoid the interstates—”

  “I know, I know. We’ll get there faster because there’s less vehicular congestion on the roadways,” Remy said in exasperation. “You don’t have to tell me this. I’m not new to this whole dog-and-pony show.” She sighed and twisted her ponytail around her hand. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. If we track down the Westin, and if Cade is there, I don’t think going in exhausted will help any of us drag her out of that woman’s dirty little paws.”

  Before Brandt could formulate an appropriate response beyond the nasty one on the tip of his tongue, Gray flung the driver’s door open and nearly fell out onto the pavement. Remy and Brandt turned as one to look at him as he scrambled to his feet, and Brandt raised a curious eyebrow. “Are you … okay?” he asked reluctantly.

  “The radio,” Gray told them, breathless with excitement. “I think I’ve picked something up.” Brandt and Remy merely stared at him, until Gray rolled his eyes and added, “It’s not a recording.”

  Brandt and Remy stared for a second longer before launching into action. In a flurry of movement, Brandt shoved away from the back door, and Remy threw it open and flung herself inside. Gray was already back in the driver’s seat, so Brandt joined them, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling the door shut. Gray turned the stereo up so they could all hear clearly, and almost as one, they leaned closer to the radio.

  Meanwhile, the search for Michael Evans continues, a soothing female voice said over the car’s speakers. Alicia Day and her people reportedly returned from another trip out of town chasing another lead on his location, but our spies say she did not return with Evans as initial rumors stated.

  In other, somewhat related, news, there was significant infected activity near the intersection of Central Park Place Northeast and Ralph McGill Boulevard Northeast. Though we have no specific information at this time, Day’s people were involved, and shots were fired. Our people are currently investigating, but we can only hope that Day herself was involved.

  Brandt heard the unspoken words under the woman’s voice, the words that seemed to say, “We can only hope she bit it in the fight.”

  There are unconfirmed reports of an escapee from the attack. We’re in the process of searching the area for this potential ally to offer our protection. We will give updates on this situation as they become available.

  That’s it for now. Those of you standing against Day’s control, tune in to the usual frequency at the usual time for your updated messages.

  Over and out.

  The radio station turned to dead air and then switched to the usual static they’d become so accustomed to hearing. Gray switched the radio off, clearing his throat in the silence that followed. “I, of course, don’t know what other frequency they’re referring to,” he said weakly, visibly overwhelmed at what they’d just heard.

  Remy let out an ear-shattering whoop of excitement and bounced in her seat. Brandt fought to not cover his ears, though he did turn to glare at her. She ignored him. “There are people in Atlanta!” she exclaimed.

  “There have bee
n people in Atlanta all along,” Brandt snapped. “Gray, get moving. We’re wasting time just sitting here.”

  “I know there’ve been people there all along,” Remy said, visibly deflated by Brandt’s lack of enthusiasm. “What I mean is there are people there who could maybe help us.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Brandt muttered. Stomach acid churned in his gut, and he started to feel nauseated again. He occupied himself with the road map, snatching it off the dash and opening it to examine it closely.

  “Here’s what I’m worried about,” Gray spoke up as he pulled the Escalade back onto the highway. “Did you hear what she said about an escapee?”

  “Yeah, I heard,” Brandt answered. He kept his eyes focused on the map.

  “Do you think it might’ve been Cade?”

  “I hope not,” Brandt confessed. “Because if it was Cade, well, she’s in infected territory and likely unarmed. On top of that? She’s within a mile of the Atlanta Medical Center.”

  “What’s so bad about the Atlanta Medical Center?” Remy asked.

  “It’s essentially hell on earth, or at least it was a year ago,” Brandt said. He hated the way his voice shook as he answered her. “It was a place so dangerous the military declared it a total loss. And now Cade might be near it.” He swallowed hard and added, “I don’t see how she could possibly survive for any length of time in that area without help.”

  Chapter 32

  When Cade emerged from the parking garage into the hazy, foggy morning light, she was bone tired and starving. The thunderstorm she’d had to endure had kept her awake for most of the night, so she’d had only a couple of hours of fitful sleep, nowhere near enough to sustain her for a significant amount of time. But it’d be long enough for her to scavenge something to eat and drink. She wasn’t willing to wait any longer for that.

  Cade stepped around the gate that once blocked vehicles from exiting without a ticket and stopped on the sidewalk beyond. She looked in either direction, frowning as she squinted into the fog, gripping her shotgun tightly in both hands. She couldn’t see anything moving within her line of sight, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything lurking behind the cars parked in jumbled messes along the roadway. Cade sucked in a fortifying breath and started forward, choosing to walk east until she reached an intersection that would tell her where she was.

  The area of Atlanta through which Cade passed was home to the largest mess she’d seen yet. Store windows were broken, their glass littering the sidewalk and crunching under her boots with every step, their displays long since pilfered. Cars were parked and smashed everywhere, their frames bent and crunched, their contents spilled out across the pavement and adjoining vehicles. Cade even passed a large truck sitting almost completely on top of a small four-door coupe. The car was crushed under the weight of the truck; Cade wondered only fleetingly what had happened to its former occupants, but she didn’t dare go closer. She didn’t need to know that badly.

  As Cade passed store after empty store, she began to worry that she’d be unable to find the food and water she so desperately needed. Weapons and ammunition were useless if she became too dehydrated to use them. She was already losing fluids; her tank top and flannel shirt were damp under the Kevlar vest. Taking the vest off wasn’t an option, however. She needed every ounce of protection she could get.

  Cade squinted into the distance again, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make out the path ahead. Still, nothing stirred anywhere. She glanced at the shops around her, spotting a health-food store. The windows were broken, but she hoped there would be something left inside that could hold her over until she found a more substantial source of sustenance. She scanned the street one more time before crossing, weaving between vehicles and climbing and sliding over them as necessary, ignoring the pang in her side that the exertion caused. Thankfully, nothing assaulted her on her short journey, and she arrived in the broken doorway of the health-food store unmolested.

  The interior of the shop was as dark as Cade expected. She hesitated in the doorway and examined the interior as closely as she’d studied the street outside, her shotgun against her shoulder as she scrutinized every inch of the store that she could see. She couldn’t make out any movement, but that didn’t mean it was safe. There could have been infected inside that just hadn’t noticed her yet. Considering how cunning they’d seemingly become, the infected could have been simply lying in wait, watching, waiting for her to walk into the store before they pounced on her. The thought alone made Cade shudder in disgust.

  Giving in to the need for light, Cade fished the flashlight she’d pilfered from the police cruiser out of her bag. Once the cool metal was in Cade’s palm, her thumb depressed the squishy black power button, and a bright white light flared on, shining over the interior of the shop. Cade blinked rapidly as her eyes were flash-blinded by the brightness, but she ignored the stinging, watering sensation and stepped into the shop. She took a look around, easing forward, one careful step at a time, sweeping her eyes and the light over every nook and cranny in the shop.

  When Cade didn’t see anything worth noting, she moved farther into the shop. Instead of eyeing the corners, she looked to the metal shelves and toppled displays. Most of the shelves were bare and dusty, long since ransacked of any food they once held. Cade bit her lip as she registered the lack of anything useful in her immediate vicinity, and then she continued on. Her blue eyes scanned every inch of shelf she passed, her head swinging from side to side to check the shelves on either side of her.

  By the time she reached the end of the first row, the only thing Cade had found was a small box of raisins. She gently squeezed the box and then tore it open, peering inside. The dried fruit looked far drier than it should have, and it was covered in a fuzzy mold. Cade sighed in disappointment and tossed the box to the floor, crushing it underfoot as she moved on to the next aisle.

  The next three aisles yielded no results, and by the time she reached the last aisle, Cade was near tears in frustration. It was ridiculous to be so upset over her lack of luck in this one store. There must have been dozens of stores within a mile radius that she could search. But suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, Cade sagged against the nearest shelf. She covered her eyes with her hand, shaking her head slowly and taking a moment to herself, breathing in deep, ragged breaths.

  Cade swore under her breath and slapped the side of her own head. “Come on, Cade, get it the fuck together,” she muttered. “Now isn’t the time to have a fucking breakdown.” She pushed away from the shelf and lifted the flashlight, wiping haphazardly at her eyes with the back of her hand. She shone the flashlight over the shelves once more, hoping to see something she’d missed on the first pass.

  A thud and the distinctive sound of something rolling across the floor rang out behind Cade. She spun on her boot heel and aimed her flashlight down the dark aisle. She didn’t see anything there. She narrowed her eyes and took a slow step, lifting her shotgun as a precaution. The squeak of a sneaker on the tiled floor drew her eyes to the right, and she caught a glimpse of hair over the shelf as someone hurried to the front of the store, bent low to stay hidden below the top of the short shelves.

  “Stop right there,” Cade said sternly. She aimed her shotgun in the figure’s general direction, even as she briskly rounded the end of the shelf to step into the adjoining aisle. The dark figure froze and didn’t turn to face her, which was enough to convince Cade it wasn’t an infected person. “Put your hands up and turn around,” she ordered. “Slowly.” Her shotgun didn’t waver a fraction of an inch from the girl—and by then, Cade was absolutely sure it was a girl—who stood, her back to Cade, at the end of the aisle.

  The sound of a pistol’s hammer being pulled back cracked out behind Cade. Her back stiffened. A steely male voice spoke up. “You let your guard down. Bad move.”

  “You try to pull that trigger and I’ll drop her before I even hit the ground,” Cade warned.

  “Don’t even try,” the man be
hind Cade warned. “We’re not here to harm you anyway. So you can put the damned shotgun away.”

  Cade didn’t lower the shotgun. She didn’t dare. For all she knew, the moment she did so, the man would pull the trigger on his own weapon. Instead, she tightened her grip on it, her fingers clenching the weapon firmly enough to blanch her knuckles white. “Then what are you here for?” Cade demanded.

  “We’re here to help you,” the man said. “We saw you escape from that Alicia bitch yesterday.” The way he said Alicia’s name reminded Cade of the way someone would discuss something smelly he found stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “We’ve been searching for you ever since. We’re just here to lend you a hand.”

  Cade felt a surge of hope at the man’s tone, but she quickly tamped it back down. She couldn’t let her emotions show. To do so would risk making herself vulnerable, showing these potential enemies just what it took to get under her skin.

  But these aren’t enemies, her brain whispered. And she knew her instincts were right, despite the gun held to her head. They felt more like potential allies—something she desperately needed in this unfamiliar city. She hesitated, her brain swinging between her options. Then she lowered her weapon.

  “Fine then,” she said to the man behind her. “You win. Now can you please get the gun off me?”

  The man chuckled. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got some serious balls,” he said, the amusement clear in his voice. “But just so you’re aware, I haven’t had the gun pointed at you for a good thirty seconds already.”

  Cade’s shoulders relaxed. She looked at the girl, who still stood at the end of the aisle, watching Cade with wide eyes. Cade turned her back on the girl to face the man who had managed to sneak up on her and hold her at gunpoint.