“She hasn’t done anything to Ethan,” Kimberly said quickly, “at least not physically. But I think she’s been fucking with his mind. I know for a fact she’s been interrogating him without his knowledge.”
“How so?” Cade asked. She started to twist to look at Kimberly more fully. The movement caused a pang of pain to jolt through her side; she sucked in a short breath and instead settled on turning her entire body, tucking a leg underneath herself, facing Kimberly and waiting for her explanation.
“I think she manipulated him,” Kimberly said. “Alicia is a total master at manipulation and soft interrogation. She will use anything she thinks will get her way or will get the information she wants out of you. In Ethan’s case, she ingratiated herself with him. She let him believe she cared, that she was there to help him. She gained his trust and used dirty tricks like sex to get him to talk.” She blew out a breath. “The end result was that he felt comfortable enough to talk and talk and talk without paying attention to what he was saying. There’s no telling what he’s told her. There’s no telling how much of an advantage she holds over us, just through sheer knowledge.”
Cade thought back on the year before, the battle she and Brandt fought as they tried to get Ethan to trust their then-new arrivals Theo and Gray Carter. It’d been a never-ending fight, one neither of them had ever truly won; Ethan was not and had never been the type to trust people in such a short period of time. Cade had a very hard time reconciling what she knew of her best friend with what Kimberly told her. She shook her head, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, before saying, “I just … I can’t see it. Ethan’s not the type to jump into something like that.” She snorted softly. “Hell, he and Remy danced around each other for seven months before anything happened between them, and even then they didn’t tell anybody about it. For him to just, well, jump in bed with someone he just met is … completely unbelievable.”
“Perhaps he’s changed since you last saw him,” Kimberly suggested. Her fingers tapped a rhythmic pattern on the cushion beside her.
“Perhaps,” Cade acknowledged. “Near-death experiences will do that to a person, I hear.”
Kimberly nodded and folded her arms over her chest, slouching lower in her seat. “And Ethan had a nearer experience to death than most,” she added.
Cade braced her nerves before she forced out the question that bumped at the forefront of her mind. “How close?”
Kimberly looked contemplative as she rubbed her fingers idly over her left bicep. “Well, most infected people at the Westin have only been bitten once, or they had the misfortune of having the Michaluk virus passed on to them through other means. Ethan … well, on his arms and shoulders alone, he was bitten four times. I don’t know about his legs, because I haven’t seen him without any pants on, but Derek tells me there are several bites there too. And that doesn’t include all of the scratches and scrapes on his back and sides either.”
“I had no idea it was that bad,” Cade admitted. Her eyes flickered to the closed door. “What about you? Are you …” She trailed off, unable to say the word. She hadn’t reconciled what she knew of Ethan with what she’d seen of the infected.
“Infected?” Kimberly finished. “Fortunately not. But I almost did end up that way about four months ago. I was out on a search for supplies with Dominic and some other of Alicia’s people. I got jumped from behind inside a restaurant. If Dominic hadn’t been there, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” She paused, contemplating the door, before asking suddenly, “Are you really pregnant with Evans’s baby?”
Cade was taken aback by the sudden question, but she managed to cover it up and answer anyway. “Four pregnancy tests said I am,” she said smoothly.
“Are you sure it’s Evans’s?” Kimberly asked promptly.
Cade felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as her anger and irritation made their reappearances. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.
Kimberly put up her hands defensively. “Nothing! Nothing!” she insisted. “I didn’t mean it like that, not at all. I just wanted to make sure!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Cade muttered. She rolled her eyes and turned away from the woman, slouching against the couch once more as the bedroom door opened. Derek stepped into the room and beckoned to her.
“I’m done with him, and he’s asking for you, Ms. Alton,” Derek announced, wiping his palms off on the thighs of his pants.
“Oh thank God,” Cade drawled out. She realized too late how bad that sounded, and her face flushed as she pushed herself to her feet. “Not that your company hasn’t been absolutely stimulating,” she added to Kimberly, “but I really would like to see my best friend.”
Kimberly flipped her hand at Cade carelessly. “Don’t worry about it. I’d want to get away from me too after watching me stick my foot in my mouth.”
As Cade retreated to the dark bedroom, she heard Derek say, “Should I even ask?”
“Probably not,” Kimberly replied. The door swung shut behind Cade.
Cade stood in the darkened bedroom, blinking rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust. The curtains had been pulled securely over the windows, letting not even a sliver of light peek through, and the room was lit only by a flashlight standing on its end, the beam pointed at the ceiling. She shoved her hands in her pockets and fought the nervousness inexplicably stirring in her gut. She rocked on her heels and turned her eyes to the silhouette leaning over the bed, pawing through a familiar-looking backpack. Despite her trepidation, a smile crossed Cade’s face, and she eased up to him. After only a second’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him from behind and gave him as tight a squeeze as she dared to.
“I am so glad you’re okay,” she said. She rested her head against Ethan’s back for a long moment, listening to him breathe as she worked past the maelstrom of emotions that had plagued her since the discovery of Ethan’s survival. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she closed them tightly. She didn’t want this reunion to echo the weepy one from earlier in the evening.
“I’m glad I’m okay too,” Ethan said, chuckling. He turned in Cade’s arms and swept her into a tight hug. Cade clung to him, her hands pressed flat against his bandaged back. “And I’m glad you’re okay,” he added, breaking the long silence that fell between them. “I’ve been so worried about you guys, all four of you, since that shit went down in February.”
“Well, obviously we’re fine,” Cade said. Her breath caught in her throat. “At least, I’m fine. I don’t know about … I’m not sure about … about …” She fell silent and rubbed both hands over her face helplessly.
“Remy,” Ethan finished. He released her and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know. Kimberly and Derek told me what they’d heard. I’m not sure how they get their information, but I think it’s something to do with the people here.” He picked something up from the bedspread beside him. Cade recognized the locket he’d brought back from Memphis the year before, partially melted, sooty, and dangling from a broken chain he’d refused to replace. Cade hadn’t been aware he still had it.
“What are we going to do, Ethan?” Cade asked. She sank down onto the bed beside him and rested her elbows on her thighs. “This is … way bigger than I ever thought it would be.”
“I know, right?” Ethan murmured. He looked to the bedroom door. “And I’m worried. Those guys out there are underestimating Alicia. They think she’s not completely in control of herself, that she’s acting aggressively because of the virus. It’s … it’s way worse than that. I think she’s in complete control. Everything she does, she does with the full knowledge of how it will turn out down the road.” He heaved out a sigh, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of conviction. “What are we going to do?” he repeated. “We’re going to do what we have to do. We’re going to take the bitch down before she hurts anybody else.”
Chapter 43
Brandt sat with his knees drawn to his chest, his head bowed as he struggled t
o relax. It was hard with Remy sitting and staring at him across the dim hallway in which they hid, the look in her eyes as hard as it’d been when they entered the building. He clenched his jaw and dug his blunt fingernails into the worn knees of his jeans.
“You need to sleep. You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Remy said. “I’m not tired.”
“You’re acting like a bitch,” Brandt countered. “That means you’re tired.”
“Don’t presume you know me well enough to know how I feel.”
Brandt gritted his teeth and suppressed an angry snarl. “Damn it, Remy!” he snapped. “I’ve known you for a year. Stop acting like we just fucking met!”
“I feel like we just have,” Remy admitted. Something in her voice, something quiet and sad, drew Brandt’s full attention to her. He squinted at her in the dim light from the flashlight between them, wondering what was going on underneath that thick, wavy hair of hers. Obviously something bothered her, something far beyond Gray’s recent death. Instead of coping with it or talking about it, she’d clearly decided to just lash out at the nearest person. Which was fine, but considering Brandt was the only one present and the one getting the brunt of her ire, he was less than pleased about it.
“What do you mean?” Brandt asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just that,” Remy said. She picked at a loose thread on the hem of her jeans. “You’ve hidden so much stuff from us that I can’t tell if you’re telling me the truth or not anymore. And I don’t like liars. Especially not the kind that are intentionally trying to deceive me.”
“I wasn’t trying to deceive you,” Brandt said, focusing his eyes on the floor’s white tiles. He couldn’t look at her; it made him feel vulnerable, and he hated that feeling. “I was trying to protect you. All of you.”
“From a danger you’re not even sure exists anymore,” Remy pointed out. “How do you know the government is still hunting you? Why would they waste their time anymore? For all we know, they’ve all been dead for months. I mean, did they ever come after us when you radioed for help at the Tabernacle last month?” She didn’t wait for Brandt to respond. “No, they didn’t. Because they have more important shit to do with their resources, and because they probably think that there’s no way for you to spill the beans anymore anyway.”
Brandt rolled his shoulders to work some of the stiffness out of them as Remy fell silent. A ripple of pain shot from his stab wound up through his neck and directly into his skull. He dropped his head against the sheetrock behind him and sucked in a slow breath through his teeth as he waited for the pain to subside.
Remy noticed and promptly asked, “Are you okay?”
Brandt ignored the question. “You make too much sense sometimes, you know that?” he said almost absently, his voice low as he focused on banishing the pain plaguing him. He drew in a breath and held it for a moment. When he let it out, it was harsh and ragged. Even in the dim light, Brandt saw the concern and disapproval on Remy’s face. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.
Remy raised an eyebrow. “How else am I supposed to look at you?” she asked. “You’re hurt, and you’re doing a piss-poor job of hiding how much pain you’re in. Which, I might add, is doing nothing but ticking me off.” With an easy, smooth move, Remy grabbed her bag and swung herself across the narrow hall, settling down on her knees beside Brandt. She reached for his shirt collar, and Brandt swatted her hand away.
“Don’t,” he said defensively, inching sideways along the wall away from her.
“But you’re hurt!”
“I’m well aware of what I am,” Brandt replied. “Now stop.”
“But you’re bleeding through your shirt,” she protested.
Brandt blinked and looked to his shoulder. Just as Remy said, blood did indeed stain his shirt—fresh blood, judging by the shine of the liquid seeping into the fabric. He prodded at the wound, tugging the fabric away. The bandage with which he’d so awkwardly and painstakingly bound it had come loose, allowing the blood to flow again. He groaned at the thought of wrestling the gauze back into place on his own. But he had no choice; he refused to risk infecting Remy if he was contagious. It was a chance he could not take. He tugged her bag closer and pawed through it in search of the few medical supplies they had left. There was precious little, and Brandt hated that he had to use any of it. He pushed aside a few latex gloves and pulled the gauze and medical tape out again. Then he removed the layers of clothes over his torso and set to work on his bandages again.
“Do we still have that portable radio thing Gray always insisted on carrying everywhere?” Brandt asked, trying to distract his mind from the pain that jostling his wound caused.
“I think so,” Remy said. She scooped up the third backpack, the one neither of them had opened since their frantic dash from the scene of Gray’s death. She unzipped it and hesitated before dipping her hand inside. It took only a moment of rummaging—a moment in which Remy’s face took on an expression of intense concentration—before she successfully pulled a compact, battery-free crank radio from the bag’s confines. She studied it with as much intensity as she’d searched for it, and once it was cranked up, she thumbed the power switch.
Brandt hadn’t realized he’d leaned forward in anticipation until the hiss of static that greeted his ears made him sit back. Remy sighed and slouched against the wall beside him, fiddling with the frequency knob as Brandt finished bandaging his shoulder.
“Do you remember what station that report was broadcast from?” Remy asked, annoyance evident in her voice as she inched the tuner along its dial.
“It was somewhere in the three digits, I think,” Brandt said doubtfully. He tore a piece of tape free from the roll. “Not positive, but I think it might have been one-oh-one something.”
Remy spun the dial to the upper end of the frequency display, pausing periodically to listen carefully to the static. Finally, between the hisses and skips, a man’s voice broke through. After tinkering with the dial for a moment more, Remy cleared it up enough for them to listen.
… is your daily report of the conditions in the areas of Atlanta populated by the uninfected, a surprisingly cheerful man’s voice said over the airwaves. Bringing you the latest updates on the movements of the infected and those who sympathize with them so you don’t accidentally become someone’s dinner.
Brandt barely stifled a laugh. Remy wasn’t so lucky. She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Even as she laughed, there were tears in her eyes. Brandt scooted closer to her and, after only a second’s hesitation, put his arm around her and gave her a comforting squeeze. Remy offered him a grateful look as the man on the radio continued.
First in the news today is new information regarding the fight at Ralph McGill and Park Place yesterday, the man said. Brandt snatched the radio from Remy’s hands and turned the volume up a bit more. Last time we spoke to you, we reported that there had been a fight of some kind at that intersection. We can now confirm that Alicia Day and her crew were involved in a skirmish with the infected and that a woman, whose identity will remain undisclosed at this time, escaped Day’s custody and is now in a safe place with our allies.
“He’s talking about Cade, right?” Remy asked.
“He has to be,” Brandt said fervently.
—nother fight was reported by one of our lookouts at the same location just this evening, the man continued. No infected were immediately involved, though our sources report that an unknown man and woman fled the scene with a third, visibly injured man. None of them have been seen since. If you have seen them or know of their whereabouts, please report to Isaac Wright as soon as possible. If you don’t know where to find Mr. Wright, well, you’re not the droids we’re looking for, so don’t bother. The last part was delivered in a cheeky tone that made a slight smile quirk at Brandt’s lips.
In other news, there are reports of a growing number of infected gathering in the vicinity of Centennial Olympic Park. Now, I’m well a
ware that this is an area we normally do not visit due to its proximity to the Westin, but regardless, we’re going to suggest that you do what you can to avoid that area of the city until further notice.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, that’s all we’ve got for the moment, the young man’s voice added. Wasn’t much news today, but no news is good news, as the saying goes. We’ll be on air again tomorrow at our usual time. There was a click, and the man’s voice was replaced by a rush of static as the station went off the air.
Brandt grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head, following with his jacket. “Well, I suppose that’s our cue to get some rest, huh?” he said, switching the radio off. “We’ll take turns sleeping while the other stays up and keeps watch. Fair enough?”
“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “But after sleep, what exactly are we going to do?”
Brandt glanced at the radio thoughtfully. “As much as I want to go after her, Cade is, by all reports, in safe hands right now,” he said. “It’s not what I want to do, but I’ve got to think of priorities and what’s likely to improve life for everyone involved.”
Remy sat up straight, looking intrigued, and began to pull her dark hair into a ponytail. “So does this mean we’re …?” she started to ask, her eyebrows rising to emphasize her question.
Brandt pulled himself off the tiled floor and began to collect his things. He double-checked that his Beretta was securely in its holster and fastened to his belt, and he slung his bag carefully over his right shoulder. The strap dug into the clawed skin, and he clenched his teeth for a second before continuing. “We’re going after Alicia and finding out exactly what the hell the bitch wants with me, on my terms,” he declared. “For tonight, though, we’ve got to get some rest. You’re going to stay right here and sleep the best you can for the next four hours, and I’m going to sit at the end of the hall. I’ll wake you in four hours, and we’ll swap out then, okay?”
The Becoming: Revelations Page 23