The Becoming: Revelations

by Jessica Meigs

  Cade laughed softly and closed her fingers around the ring. “I seem to remember another time you said something similar,” she said with a smile, slipping the ring into her pocket.

  “Glad to know you find the things I say memorable.”

  Before Cade could form a reply, Ethan’s voice reached her across the lobby. “Let’s get this shit over with,” he said, his tone resigned as he strode back to the counter to gather some of the bottles. Remy’s dark eyes were red rimmed, and she refused to look at any of them as Ethan added, “I don’t want to spend so long debating when it’s a good time for me to die that what medications I’ve got left in me wear off before we make a move.”

  Chapter 60

  Ethan wouldn’t lie; he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. Even as he carried his armload of liquor bottles closer to the front doors, he imagined he felt the Michaluk virus in his veins, spreading and activating throughout his entire body, slowly taking control of him. He tried to not focus on it. He had more important things to worry about, things staring him right in the face, demanding his attention. He set the bottles at his feet and held the bolt cutters out to Brandt.

  “Would you do the honors?” he offered with the smallest of smirks. Even he was surprised by the casualness in his tone and mannerisms. Especially since it didn’t match what he felt inside.

  Brandt took the bolt cutters and stepped toward the door. “So how are we doing this?” he asked as he positioned the padlock between the bolt cutters’ blades.

  “We’re going to torch as many of the mother fuckers as we can before we haul ass up the stairs,” Ethan said. “We don’t need them coming after you when we walk out the front door of AmericasMart. It’s right across the fucking street. No way they won’t notice us. Brandt, while they burn, you and I are going to hold the doors shut for as long as we can and let them fucking roast.”

  Brandt raised an eyebrow and looked to Ethan, even as he grasped the handles of the bolt cutters more securely, prepared to squeeze them together. “You seem to have thought this over pretty hard,” he said. “Impressive, especially considering we haven’t been in this situation all that long.”

  “You bet your ass I’ve thought it over,” Ethan said. He glanced at Remy; she refused to look at him, instead keeping her eyes locked onto the front doors. She was still pissed off at him. He could hardly blame her for that. He looked away from her before he started to feel too much regret over what he was about to do. If he dwelled on it too much, he knew he’d falter, and then his friends might not survive. That was, quite frankly, unacceptable.

  “Well, let me know when you’re ready,” Brandt said. He shifted as if bracing himself against the oncoming assault from the infected. They had already noticed Ethan’s small group from their side of the doors and had begun making their way toward them. Ethan knew that the doors wouldn’t hold for long. He also knew he refused to let the infected come after them on their own terms. They were going to do so on his.

  Ethan squared his shoulders and looked at Cade. She stood in front of the two children, with her rifle in hand, and the determination in her eyes was so strong and so familiar that he felt an ache settle in his chest. He gave the woman a short nod and forced his attention back to the door, hefting one of the glass bottles and testing its weight. “Brandt,” he said, his voice tight and strained. “Do it.”

  Thankfully, Brandt didn’t hesitate. He gripped the handles of the bolt cutters and squeezed them with a grunt. The snap of the cutters shearing through the padlock echoed through the lobby, and Ethan startled involuntarily. He cursed himself silently and lifted the bottle as Brandt pulled the chain away from the doors. And then the doors burst open, and the infected swarmed toward them, trying to get inside.

  “Ethan!” Cade yelped behind him. “This is a bad fucking idea!”

  Ethan ignored her, swinging the bottle of vodka in his hand toward the infected. The bottle smashed across the faces of the nearest infected in a shower of clear liquid and glass, and the infected fell back a few inches before surging forward again. Ethan took the momentary lapse in their advance to grab another bottle and throw it over their heads. It shattered against the pavement beyond.

  A burst of gunfire broke out behind him. Ethan didn’t bother to turn around as he heard the wet, meaty slap of flesh against the floor. Cade was behind him, and he knew she wouldn’t let the infected get to the children as long as she breathed. Instead, he concentrated on throwing his bottles into the crowd. Brandt caught on quickly and scrambled to help, until all that remained was the largest bottle, its rag still hanging from the top like a flag of surrender. But surrender was far from Ethan’s mind. He patted his pockets, searching for something with which to light the rag, before he swore out loud. He couldn’t believe his own stupidity. He’d come up with a workable plan, and he’d forgotten the most important part.

  “Brandt! I need a light!” he called to the other man, even as he continued to search his pockets as if one might magically appear where one hadn’t been before.

  Brandt’s hand disappeared into his pocket, and a second later, he flipped his wrist at Ethan. Something silver spun through the air, and Ethan snapped his hand out and caught it before realizing he’d done so. His fingers closed around the warm metal, and he glanced at it. It was an expensive-looking silver-plated Zippo lighter with “U.S.M.C.” engraved on both sides. Ethan flipped the lighter open and ran his thumb over the flint wheel. It lit on the first try, but before he put the flame to the rag, Brandt stopped him.

  “Wait, I have an idea,” Brandt said urgently, swinging his bag around and digging into it. A shot rang out, and an infected man dropped to the floor right in front of the Marine. He barely noticed.

  “Better be a fucking good one,” Ethan snapped. He reached for his own weapon as a hand grasped for his face. He batted it aside with a firm swat of his fist.

  Brandt held two grenades in his hands like strange, demented-looking pieces of fruit. Ethan’s eyes widened. “You take the middle. I’ll handle the sides,” Brandt instructed. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have about ten seconds to get the doors shut again before the world out there goes to hell.”

  Ethan grimaced and touched the flame to the rag. It quickly caught, and he hauled back to throw it into the crowd of infected. “I thought the world was already in hell!” he said to Brandt. He threw the bottle out, as hard and as high as he could. As it arced over the growing crowd of infected, Brandt ripped the pins from the grenades, released the arming levers, and threw them, one left and the other right. The two men moved fast, grabbing the doors and shoving them closed, pinning them there with only the strength of their bodies.

  Ethan braced his hands against the glass as the flaming missile he’d thrown smashed across the infected, the alcohol he’d previously thrown igniting in a whoosh of fire. Seconds later, as Brandt and Ethan fought to keep the doors closed in the crush of infected pressing against them, the grenades went off, crashing through the night with nearly ear-shattering force. The blasts broke several windows, sending glass showering to the floor. Ethan glanced at Brandt as the rush of flames from the burning alcohol set fire to the infected and their horrible screams rent the night air. “Well, if there were any infected who hadn’t gotten here yet, they’re sure on their way now!” he yelled over the sound.

  “No fucking kidding!” Brandt replied. He planted a foot behind him, bracing himself more firmly against the door, the muscles in his arms bulging as he struggled to hold it closed against the infected that, despite the fires and explosions, still tried to get inside. Ethan wasn’t faring much better; the muscles in his own arms and shoulders strained under the onslaught from the other side of the door. The fire hadn’t caught the ones at the front, and he found himself momentarily uncertain as to what to do. He’d banked on the alcohol setting most of them aflame, but that hadn’t happened. “What now, Ethan?” Brandt prompted, as if reading Ethan’s thoughts. “You’re the one with the grand plan here! What are we
going to do now?”

  “When I say go, you five are going to run for the fucking escalators,” Ethan said, his words strained with the effort of holding the door closed. “I’m going to delay them for a bit while you head for the sixth floor.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Brandt’s eyes met his. The look in them was serious; Ethan was sure it was the most serious he’d ever seen the man in the entire year he’d known him.

  “I’m surer about this than I’ve been about anything in my life,” Ethan said breathlessly. He had to choke the words out past the lump forming in his throat. He turned away from Brandt and shoved against the door harder as he looked to Remy. She’d barely moved during the entire exchange, during anything he and Brandt and Cade had done for the past several minutes. Not since he’d talked to her. She stood stock still, her bolo knife in her hand, watching them—watching him—with wide, frightened eyes. Her eyes were so different from the ones with which he’d become so intimately familiar that, for a second, he thought he was looking at someone else entirely. Then he blinked, and Remy reappeared, still standing in the same position. He cut his eyes away from her, unable to bear the look she gave him. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, to second-guess himself or his decision. Instead, he turned to Brandt again.

  “You ready?” he asked Brandt. He shifted his grip on the door, ready to step back, to let the door go and allow the infected to come in after him.

  “Do we have a fucking choice?” Brandt replied, somehow managing to hold the door with one arm long enough to draw a gun from under his jacket.

  “Not if you want to get out of this shit alive,” Ethan shot back.

  “Thirty minutes, then?” Cade’s voice said to Ethan’s left. He didn’t look at her as he nodded.

  “If I can.”

  Cade seemed to find that acceptable, because she scooped Shae from the floor, ready to pass her to Brandt at a moment’s notice. Sasha moved closer to Remy, and Ethan called out to Brandt again.

  “Ready?”

  Brandt nodded, and almost simultaneously, they threw themselves back from the doors.

  The infected rushed in.

  Chapter 61

  When the first of the infected gained entry into the hotel, Brandt was already in motion. He lifted his right arm, aimed at one of the infected, and fired a single round directly into the man’s face, even as he swept the toddler from Cade’s arms and nestled her against his left side. The girl dug her fingers painfully into his shoulder, pressing down hard enough against his stab wound that Brandt felt woozy. He quickly shook it off. He had to; there was too much going on right in front of him for him to worry over something as inconsequential as an ache in his shoulder.

  “Stick close to me!” he yelled to Sasha over the gunfire that erupted behind him. “Hold on to my belt, and don’t let go!” The girl was quick to obey. Smart kid, Brandt acknowledged. At least she listened when she was given orders. She was also surprisingly light on her feet as she sprinted alongside Brandt, keeping up with him as he followed Remy.

  Remy led the way, Cade taking up the rear automatically. The younger woman ran like the hounds of Hell were biting at her heels. Brandt supposed that, in a way, they were. Her own personal hell had come to visit, and she seemed to be trying to outrun it in vain. She slammed into the glass doors leading into the tiled hallway so hard he thought she’d break them. Instead, she rebounded off them and grabbed the handle of one, flinging it open and diving through the entryway into the darkness beyond.

  Twin bursts of gunfire erupted behind Brandt, and he risked a glance behind him as he and Sasha followed Remy through the door. Cade had turned in mid-stride to give Ethan a hand, managing to run backward several steps as she fired three shots at the infected flooding around Ethan. Brandt was thoroughly impressed at the skill she displayed; he’d never seen anyone move that fast backward, not to mention doing it while shooting a weapon. Cade darted forward to catch up with him as he moved through the doors. The sound of gunfire continued behind them in a staccato beat that let them all know Ethan was still alive.

  “We’ve got to move faster,” Cade warned him breathlessly, releasing the magazine from her Glock in mid-stride and shoving it into a pocket. She withdrew another and, as they started up the escalators, jammed the fresh one into the weapon’s grip. “They were really making headway into the lobby.”

  “Ethan?” Brandt prompted as he reached the top of the escalator.

  “Still breathing, for now,” Cade replied. She pulled the slide back on the weapon to chamber a round. “I hope he manages to catch up with us.”

  “I hope he doesn’t,” Brandt admitted. “I’m not particularly thrilled with the idea of watching him die again.” The words made him think of Remy, and he looked up suddenly, grabbing for his flashlight to shine it down the fourth-floor hallway in accompaniment with the one Cade had whipped out after reloading her sidearm. The young woman was nowhere in sight. “Where the fuck is Remy?”

  Cade’s eyes darted over the hall, and she hissed through her teeth. “Shit,” she muttered. “I want to yell for her, but I’m not sure if it’s safe.”

  “Should we risk it?” Brandt asked cautiously. As they slowed their quick jog down the hall, he tugged Sasha closer to him so he could protect her more easily if the need arose. The girl was more than willing to comply, thankfully, and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he squinted into the darkness around them.

  Before Cade could answer, a figure appeared from the darkness. She lifted her gun, since Brandt’s hands were full with both a flashlight and a crying two year old, and pointed it at the short silhouette. Brandt took a quick step back, tugging Sasha with him, his shoulders tensed. Then he realized it was only Remy, and he blew out an explosive breath as Cade swore.

  “Jesus, Remy, I almost fucking shot you,” she snapped to the younger woman. “Don’t get ahead of us again, got it? Stick close.”

  “Whatever,” Remy muttered. “You guys coming? I scouted ahead. The stairwell is clear through the fourth floor and up to the fifth-floor landing. I can hear something on the sixth floor, though. There might still be more infected up there in the lobby.”

  “And I don’t have any more grenades to clear them out the easy way,” Brandt said with a vague sense of disappointment.

  “I really don’t think I’d let you use them if you had them anyway,” Cade countered. “Makes too much mess, and frankly, it’s too risky. If there are any up there, we’re just going to have to handle them manually.”

  “Just take all my fun away, why don’t you?” Brandt retorted. A crash echoed from the third floor behind them. He startled and looked back instinctively. He couldn’t see anything, but the sound served as a great reminder that they needed to get moving again. He nodded toward the hallway ahead of them. “You two lead the way. I don’t have a free hand to do shit that’s remotely useful right now.”

  Cade gave him a short nod and stepped forward, pulling Remy along by the elbow so she wouldn’t rush off without the rest of them again. Brandt drew in a deep breath and took Sasha’s hand, leading her with him. “You realize the hardest part isn’t going to be the sixth floor,” he said to Cade’s back as they moved to the stairwell door.

  “Yeah, I know,” she muttered, easing the door open and shining her flashlight into the stairwell, checking over the path ahead of them despite Remy’s assurances that it was clear.

  “We’re probably going to have a lot more trouble with the mall,” Brandt added. “Or rather, with the street just outside the mall.” He shifted his grip on Shae to bring her closer to him.

  Cade grimaced and glanced at him, her pretty face drawn into a frown. “I’m aware, Brandt. I’m trying to take things as they come. If I think too far ahead, I’ll get distracted from what’s right in front of me, and then one or more of us will probably end up dead.”

  “Good point,” Brandt acknowledged, watching as the woman hesitated before stepping through the doorway and into the dark stairwell beyo
nd. Remy followed her as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She probably didn’t, Brandt acknowledged as he goaded Sasha ahead of him, bringing up the rear. As far as he was aware, Remy had stopped giving a shit about whether she lived or died around the same time she saw her family killed. Once he’d found out about her and Ethan, Brandt had hoped that Remy had found a new reason to care about living; it seemed her feelings for Ethan didn’t run as deep as he’d assumed, because her relationship with the man—and its aftermath—had only served to make her even more reckless.

  He had just begun to step into the stairwell, handing his flashlight to Sasha to carry so he would have one arm free, when a shout behind him drew him back around. He reflexively reached for his Beretta and lifted it as he half-turned, shoulders tense, back straight, shielding Shae and ready to fire at the oncoming danger.

  Thankfully, he didn’t get a chance to depress the trigger. He froze and lowered the weapon in surprise. “Bennett!” he exclaimed as the man’s form came into view. “I thought you said you were going to stay behind.”

  “I also said I would catch up if I could,” Ethan corrected breathlessly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know.”

  “So I see,” Brandt said. He looked the man up and down thoughtfully, taking in his torn jacket and bloodied jeans, the sweat shining on his forehead and cheeks, and the stench of blood and smoke and alcohol around him. “Are you okay to …?” He trailed off pointedly.

  “I can make it through the mall with you guys, I think,” Ethan said. Brandt had his doubts about that; the man looked ready to go under any minute. And, sadly, he didn’t seem totally aware of it.

  Brandt nodded to Ethan, despite his trepidations, and looked down at Sasha. “Go up to the front and stick close to Cade,” he instructed. “Ethan, you walk right in front of me.” He didn’t add the “just in case” that danced at the tip of his tongue, though Ethan seemed to sense it. He nodded again and headed up the stairs behind Sasha, his hand grasping the railing tightly as he began to climb.