Brandt glanced at him and then hurried along the backside of the balcony, ducking through a large, dark doorway. Gray swore softly, hesitating before carrying Cade to the door, Remy following close behind. Cade was becoming a dead weight, and Gray’s arms were tiring. He wanted desperately to put her down and rest his arms, but it seemed he’d have to descend two flights of stairs before he could make that happen.
Brandt was already at the bottom of the stairs when Remy and Gray finally reached the first floor. The older man shone his flashlight around their immediate vicinity, watching for dangers as he waited for them to join him. He looked up with a wry smile as Gray thumped down the last few steps. “Sorry. I forgot I was supposed to take Cade off your hands when we got inside.”
Gray shrugged nonchalantly as Brandt scooped Cade easily out of his arms. “No big deal. I could handle it,” Gray said, lying through his teeth. He followed Brandt into the large, open area that made up most of the first floor, the same area lined with the tables and chairs he’d seen from above. Remy was right on his heels, oddly silent as she breezed into the room. Brandt carried Cade close to the performance stage and settled her into a folding chair, holding onto her shoulder to make sure she’d stay steady before he climbed onto the stage.
“What’s all this?” Gray asked, following Brandt onto the stage. He motioned for Remy to stay with Cade before hoisting himself onto the platform, wincing as the pain in his arms radiated through his shoulders.
“Radio, mostly,” Brandt said. He started fiddling with cords and cables, shoving his small flashlight between his teeth and following a cord down a set of steps and out the backstage door. Gray wondered at the wisdom of allowing Brandt to go outside alone, but then the older man was back, prodding at switches again.
The radio’s lights flickered on, and a quiet burst of static emitted from the speaker. Excitement rippled through the group. Even Cade looked slightly more alert, sitting up an inch straighter for a moment before slumping back over, more conscious than before, though that wasn’t saying much. Gray dropped off the stage and went to Cade, kneeling beside her and gently pushing her shirt and jacket aside to examine her wound. He didn’t know much about emergency medicine, not like his brother had, but he’d seen Theo treat and talk about wounds enough that he felt confident enough to figure out what needed to be done.
Brandt sat heavily in the metal folding chair before the table and began to twist knobs, searching for someone, anyone who would answer and possibly come to their aid. It was the most important moment they’d experienced since the Michaluk Virus made its appearance, and they were all heavy with that knowledge as their eyes followed Brandt’s every move. He twisted a few more dials, and Remy tentatively spoke up.
“Brandt, have you found anything yet?” she asked. Brandt waved her off and grabbed a pair of headphones from the crate beside the table, jamming the plug into the radio’s output port and slamming the headphones onto his head. He hunched over the radio, focusing on it and tuning the rest of them out. Gray sighed and shook his head, returning to his examination of Cade’s wound.
“How does it feel?” Gray asked Cade. He tugged at the medical bag Remy still wore, trying to get the woman to move closer to him. The tape holding Cade’s bandage on had come loose in the group’s desperate dash for the Tabernacle, and the bandage needed to be reapplied, if only to help staunch the blood that still oozed from the wound.
“Very painful,” Cade replied. Gray gently pulled the rest of the gauze and tape away from her wound, and Cade gripped the edge of the chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “It’ll need stitches,” Cade added weakly as Gray wadded the bandages up and tossed them to the floor. “We’ve got to close the wound so nothing gets into it and gets it infected, if it hasn’t already.”
“I hate that fucking word,” Gray muttered. He dug several large squares of gauze out of the bag and wiped at the blood trailing down Cade’s side again.
“I said a lot of words,” Cade said, breathless with the exertion of talking. Gray took out more fresh gauze squares and pressed them firmly to the wound, prompting a low groan of pain. “Which one are you so full of hate for?” she added after a moment.
“Infected,” Gray answered. “It’s just so fucking … I don’t know. Ominous or whatever.”
“Yeah, it’s taken on new meaning in the past year, hasn’t it?” Remy spoke up. She straddled another chair just behind Gray and watched him work on Cade’s side.
“You’re telling me,” Gray muttered as thoughts of his older brother flashed through his mind. “Infection” was the last word Gray wanted to hear, especially after what Theo had been forced to do. Theo’s choice had been better than living like one of the bastards that killed Ethan and Nikola and infected Theo in the first place, though, Gray reminded himself yet again. It was the only comfort he could offer himself.
Remy put her hand on Gray’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Gray’s hands stilled, and he bowed his head, drawing in a shuddering breath as emotions welled up in his throat. Cade rested her hand loosely on top of Remy’s in solidarity, and Gray lifted his head enough to give both women a grateful look, even as he blinked back the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Gray would have to deal with Theo’s death later, maybe after the military had come to get them, as Brandt kept insisting would happen. If it did, then Gray could mourn.
There was a thud from the stage. Gray and Remy both startled and whirled in that direction, prepared to face anything coming their way. But it was only Brandt, grabbing for the radio’s microphone and mashing the broadcast button, talking quickly into it.
“This is Lieutenant Michael Brandt Evans with the United States Marines. Who is this?” As he spoke, he hunched over and pressed a hand against his headphones, listening intently. Gray finished wrapping Cade’s wound and stood, moving to the edge of the stage to watch.
“Let me speak to Major Bradford. I need to speak with him ASAP,” Brandt demanded. His eyes were intense as he clasped the microphone tightly. There was a long pause, in which Gray exchanged an uncertain glance with Remy.
“Major Bradford, this is Lieutenant Michael Brandt Evans, formerly stationed at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia,” Brandt said into the microphone, digging his fingers into the edge of the table. Gray raised an eyebrow at Brandt’s words, turning his eyes fully onto Remy and mouthing, CDC? Remy shrugged, and their attention was brought back to Brandt as he continued. “I am alive, uninjured, and uninfected. I am accompanied by three survivors, all uninfected, but one is injured and requires prompt medical assistance. I am requesting an emergency airlift from the city to a safe location as soon as can be managed.”
“Do you think they’ll send help?” Remy murmured. Gray swallowed hard, watching as Brandt continued his conversation with the presumed Major Bradford on the other end of the radio.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Gray admitted. “But I think Brandt’s hanging a lot of hope on it, so I really do hope they will. He won’t be too happy if they decide not to.”
Brandt’s tone dropped so neither Gray nor Remy could make out what he was saying as he alternated between speaking and listening. Gray glanced back at Cade worriedly, wanting to get her take on the possibilities, but she’d resumed her slumped posture in her chair, exhausted beyond her physical abilities, her eyes closed and her head bowed. As he took a step toward her, Gray finally made out four simple words that told him everything he needed to know.
“Yes, sir, I understand,” Brandt said softly. He let go of the microphone and took the headphones off. He stood slowly, staring at the radio, and Gray drew in a nervous breath, waiting for the older man to speak.
Brandt picked up the microphone again, and Gray drew in a breath, anticipating the man’s next broadcast. But instead of depressing the microphone’s button again, Brandt slammed the microphone onto the table. Gray jumped at the loud bang and took a step back as Brandt struck the microphone against the table and the radio over and over. His face was a snarling grimace of anger, his cheeks flushed red. He didn’t stop until the microphone was nothing but a mangled chunk of plastic and metal and wires. Gray took another step back and grabbed Remy’s arm, dragging her with him as Brandt upended the table, sending the radio and everything else on it to the floor with a crash that echoed through the entire building. Brandt grabbed the metal chair in which he’d sat and flung it across the stage to strike the back wall. Then he stopped, bowing his head, his shoulders shaking as he tried to catch his breath. Remy and Gray watched Brandt, frozen, uncertain what to do.
Remy moved forward once it was obvious the man’s anger had drained out of him, springing onto the stage and making her way to Brandt. She hesitated, and then she put her hand gently on his back, leaning to look him in the face and speaking to him quietly. It was a conversation Gray couldn’t hear, but whatever she said seemed to work, because within minutes, Brandt visibly relaxed, the straight, stiff set of his shoulders easing, and he turned toward Gray and Cade, moving slowly toward the injured woman as he spoke.
“We’re going to have to get the hell out of Atlanta on our own,” Brandt announced, not looking at any of them. “What’s left of the fucking government is pretty much useless. We won’t get any help from them.” He paused beside Cade, glancing around the room, taking in the rows of tables and chairs. “We’ll take one of the Hummers parked outside, at least as far as outside the city. The gas mileage is shit, so we’ll find something else once we get to that point. We’ll take any supplies here we can find, food, water, first aid, whatever you think might be useful.” He paused again, kneeling beside Cade and brushing his fingers gently over her cheek. “Let’s hurry, okay? I don’t want to spend too much time here, not with Cade like this. And I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to get the fuck out of Dodge.”