Origins (The Becoming Book 6) Read online

  The Becoming Origins

  Book Six in the Becoming Series

  Jessica Meigs

  A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

  Published at Smashwords

  ISBN: 978-1-61868-685-5

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-686-2

  THE BECOMING: ORIGINS

  The Becoming Book Six

  © 2015 by Jessica Meigs

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Dean Samed, Conzpiracy Digital Arts

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

  Permuted Press

  109 International Drive, Suite 300

  Franklin, TN 37067

  http://permutedpress.com

  Author’s Note

  STOP.

  Read this.

  If you haven’t read at least the first three books in The Becoming Series, it might not be a good idea to read this book if you’re not a fan of spoilers. Because there are some major spoilers for major plot points in the first three books in the series, most especially The Becoming: Revelations.

  Now that that is out of the way…

  Hello, and welcome back to the world of the Michaluk Virus!

  Included in this volume are three novellas: The Becoming: Brothers in Arms, The Becoming: Origins, and The Becoming: Deliverance. The title of one of those may be familiar to some of you, but by no means should you skip it. Why? Because the version of The Becoming: Brothers in Arms that is included in this volume is a revised version of the novella. Here, let me explain.

  Way back in March 2012, I released a version of The Becoming: Brothers in Arms that was, to be quite honest, drastically truncated from what I originally wanted it to be. Because of contractual issues, I couldn’t release the version I wanted to release due to the length. So I ended up cutting out a lot of stuff I hadn’t wanted to cut, including an entire character and some character development on at least one character (wow, there’s a lot of “character” in that sentence). In this volume, I had the chance to rectify that, so I’ve cleaned up and rewritten The Becoming: Brothers in Arms to bring it closer to what I’d originally envisioned for Theo and Gray’s story.

  The Becoming: Deliverance is a novella that’s been in the works since, oh, 2013, when people started asking me for it. It tells the story of Remy Angellette and what happened to her during the outbreak in New Orleans and the true story behind what happened with her family.

  As for The Becoming: Origins, I cannot emphasize enough that you shouldn’t read it unless you’ve read The Becoming: Revelations, as it spoils a major plot point of that novel. Chronologically, however, Origins takes place before book one in the series, so if you’re one of those folks who prefers to read things in the order that the events happen, then Origins should be read before The Becoming; Brothers in Arms and Deliverance take place at the same time as the first half of The Becoming.

  Now that that convoluted mess is out of the way, please jump in and enjoy! And once you’re done, consider leaving a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Goodreads to let everyone know what you thought of the book! Reviews help writers sell books, and selling books means I can have the money to take the time to write more books.

  Also, feel free to follow me on the social networking sites that I frequent! I’m available on Facebook at facebook.com/JessicaMeigs, on Twitter @JessicaMeigs, and on Goodreads at goodreads.com/JessicaMeigs.

  Contents

  The Becoming Origins

  Part One: Before

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Part Two: During

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Part Three: After

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  The Becoming: Brother in Arms

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  The Becoming: Deliverance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  The Becoming Origins

  Part One: Before

  Chapter 1

  When Michael Brandt Evans woke up the morning after he’d spent the night drinking as much as his liver could handle, he discovered that he had a splitting headache, a queasy stomach, and a strong desire to crawl into the nearest hole and not climb back out for a few days. His left arm was asleep from laying on it too long, and a pretty, skinny blonde woman was lying half on top of him, still sleeping off her own buzz. He grimaced against the brightness of the sun filtering in through the blinds of a bedroom painted a garish, Pepto Bismol pink and rubbed at his face with his free hand, trying to wake up a little more and collect his wits, at least enough to wiggle out from under the blonde and get dressed. And, maybe, find out exactly where he was.

  He grasped the blonde’s shoulders and gently shifted her over to the other side of the bed. She sighed in her sleep and settled back against the mattress, curling up and staying, blessedly, asleep. Brandt sent up a silent prayer of thanks for that. He honestly couldn’t remember her name, and he didn’t want to have to sit there and fish his alcohol-soaked mind for it while she stared at him.

  Brandt’s feet hit the floor, and he staggered to the attached bathroom without too much loss of his dignity. He leaned against the sink, hands braced on the porcelain, and stared at the haggard reflection in the mirror over the basin.

  It was a cold, hard reality that Brandt had let himself go in a lot of ways since he’d come back from deployment in Afghanistan the month before. A lot of Marines had the “once a Marine, always a Marine” mentality and lived their lives accordingly. Brandt didn’t. He couldn’t see the point in that. Living his life like he was still active duty military wouldn’t do anything to negate the fact that he had virtually nothing in his life worth living for.

  Brandt shook himself out of the admittedly depressing thoughts spinning in his head and turned the faucet on, splashing cool water onto his face. He retreated from the bathroom to find the rest of his clothes. He wanted to get out of there before the blonde woke up.

  It took Brandt a few minutes to locate most of his clothes; his jeans were in a pile on the bedroom floor, and his jacket was draped over the sofa in the living room, but his shirt was nowhere to be found. Writing it off as a loss, he zipped his jacket over his bare chest, stuffed his feet into his tennis shoes, and slipped out of the woman’s apartment. As he descended the stairs from the second floor to the ground level, he was already planning his day out in his head. He was going to go home, take something for his hangover, and sleep it off for a while before getting up to d
o it all over again.

  He exited the building, taking in a sharp breath. The cold, early December air outside was like a slap to the face. Brandt shoved a hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved his cell phone. There were three voicemail messages waiting for him, so he accessed his voicemail inbox to listen to the most recent one as he stopped at the curb and squinted at the nearest sign, trying to figure out where he was. His sister’s irritated voice filled his ear.

  “Michael Brandt Evans, I don’t know where the hell you’ve run off to this time, but if you don’t return my calls or texts, I’m going to have to call the police and report you dead in a ditch somewhere. Call me back, you bastard, and let me know that you’re okay, would you?”

  Brandt started walking toward the street sign near the corner, dialing his sister’s number. She answered on the third ring.

  “It’s about time you called me back, you asshole!” she raged, though there was obvious worry beneath her words.

  “Hello to you too, Olivia,” Brandt said, stopping by the street sign and squinting at it. “What did you need?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the corner of Ponce De Leon and Juniper,” Brandt answered. “Why?”

  “Because I’m guessing you’re drunk again and you need a ride home,” she said. “You didn’t answer your phone last night. Who were you with this time?”

  “That’s none of your business, Liv,” Brandt replied, if only to save face for the fact that he couldn’t remember the woman’s name. “Can you come pick me up?”

  Olivia sighed. “Give me one good reason why I should ditch out on my virology class—which, I might add, is my favorite—and drive all the way from Emory to pick you up.”

  “You act like I just asked you to drive across the state,” he said. “I’m twenty minutes away.”

  “Yeah, in Atlanta traffic,” Olivia shot back.

  Brandt rolled his eyes. “If you don’t want to do it, I can call a cab. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Just wait there and I’ll come get you,” Olivia said. “Dr. Rivers won’t mind if I’m not there. I’m the only one passing his class right now, anyway.”

  Brandt raised an eyebrow. “You, skipping class? How shocking.”

  “Shut up,” Olivia snapped. “I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t leave or call a cab, or I’ll track you down at home and kick your ass for wasting my time.”

  She hung up before he could dredge up a retort from his marinated brain. Brandt shoved his phone back where it belonged, tucked both hands into his jacket pockets, and leaned against the street sign to wait for Olivia to show up.

  It was just shy of seventeen minutes later when a black Toyota Corolla pulled up at the curb beside him and the passenger window rolled down. Brandt leaned over and peered inside to see his younger sister Olivia staring at him from behind the steering wheel. Slim and fit with dark hair and eyes that matched his, she was a picture of beauty, the type of girl the boys on campus probably chased after frequently. The thought made him scowl.

  “You didn’t have to come all the way out here, you know,” Brandt said, climbing into the passenger seat and pulling the door shut. He hadn’t realized he was cold until the warmth of the car’s interior hit him, and he immediately started shivering.

  Olivia put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic, heading in the general direction of Brandt’s house. “I needed to talk to you anyway, but I’d prefer not to do it while you’re hung over. Any chance you’re going to be home this evening, or are you planning to be out getting drunk again?”

  “Do you even have to ask that question?”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Michael, seriously. Are you on your way to being an alcoholic? Do I need to start calling around to find out where the nearest AA meetings are being held? Because I’ll do it, you know. I don’t like what you’ve been doing to yourself since you got home.”

  “I don’t need you mothering me,” Brandt bit out. “I’m a grown man, and I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Says the man who I just picked up off a street corner because he was probably so drunk last night that he doesn’t remember where he parked his truck,” Olivia snapped back. “Someone has to look out for you, because you’re doing a shit job of it. Since Mom and Dad are gone, I’m the only one left to deal with it.”

  “You have enough to deal with in your own life,” Brandt said. “Why don’t you focus on it and leave me be to fuck up mine?”

  “Because I’m your sister and I’m supposed to care,” Olivia said. “You make it really hard, Michael. You know that?”

  Brandt didn’t reply. He propped his head on his hand and stared out the passenger window at the passing city scenery. The blur made him feel queasy, but he ignored the feeling in favor of not looking at his sister. Anger and irritation rolled in a wave over him from her side of the car, and he knew that if he looked at her, he’d either snap or crack. He didn’t relish the thought of either one.

  “You should expect a phone call later,” Olivia said, bringing the car to a stop at a red light. “From one of my professors. He needs to talk to you.”

  “Is something wrong?” Brandt asked. “Are you in trouble at school?”

  “Why is your first thought always that I’m in trouble?” she asked with exasperation. “I’m not in trouble. Not academically. I’m just…I might have to drop out, okay?”

  “Drop out?” Brandt repeated in surprise. “Why are you talking about dropping out? You’re too smart to drop out! You’re supposed to go off and be a doctor somewhere and turn out better than I have.”

  “You haven’t turned out that bad, Michael,” Olivia said. “You went off and got into the Marines, and you were, what, a lieutenant? That’s not turning out bad, even when you factor in the drinking.”

  Brandt waved a hand to dismiss her comments. “Why are you talking about dropping out? I thought you were doing well in school.”

  “I am,” Olivia said. “I’m tops in almost every one of my classes. It’s just getting too expensive. I can’t qualify for enough grants to cover all of my tuition, and I can’t get enough loans for it either. After this semester, it’ll be the end of the road for me.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Brandt muttered. “Anything I can do?”

  “Assuming you can’t magic a large sum of money out of thin air, no, there really isn’t anything you can do,” Olivia said. “I just wanted to give you a heads up so when I move in after this semester, you’ll know why.” She eased the car to a stop at the curb in front of his house and shifted the gear into park. “Do me a favor, Mike?” she said, turning sideways in her seat to look at him. “Go inside, take some aspirin and a shower, and try to look presentable.”

  “What the hell do I need to look presentable for?” Brandt asked.

  “Because I asked you to,” Olivia said. “Trust me, you’ll feel a lot more human if you do. And I’ll feel a lot better if I know you’re at least making a minimal effort to take care of yourself.”

  Brandt stared at her, touched by her concern but unwilling to show it. He debated internally and then said, “I’m going to fix dinner tonight.” It was as close to an invitation as he was going to come to offering.

  A slight smile crossed Olivia’s face before she schooled her features into impassive neutrality. “So, about six?”

  “Yeah, six.” He climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him, intending to go inside and do exactly as she’d asked him and shower, shave, and try to look somewhat presentable. But only because she’d asked him to.

  Chapter 2

  Olivia hadn’t been kidding when she’d said that Brandt would feel more human if he took a shower and shaved. Though his head still ached, he felt better than he had in days. Now his stomach was growling, actually growling, with hunger, and he finished throwing on his t-shirt and jeans before he headed toward the kitchen with the intention of finding some food to eat.

  He opened the refrigerator and leaned
inside to see what was available to eat that wouldn’t take too much time or energy to cook. He noticed out of the corner of his eye the blinking red light on his ancient answering machine, signaling that he had a new message. He ignored it in favor of food. Whoever had left the message could wait a few more minutes while he got a bite to eat.

  He found a Tupperware container full of leftover turkey from the week before, food that Olivia had brought him from her Thanksgiving get-together with her friends at Emory. He cracked the lid open and sniffed the meat inside, debating the merits of hunger versus potential food poisoning. He dumped the container, lid and all, into the trash and fixed a cheese sandwich. He took a large bite of it as he wandered to the answering machine and mashed the play button. The machine beeped, and the message started to play. He leaned against the wall and continued eating his sandwich. The caller’s voice was male and very deep, with inflections that made Brandt think he was highly educated.

  “Hi, Michael, this is Dr. Derek Rivers. I’m your sister Olivia’s virology professor. I’d like to talk to you not only about her schooling, but about a possible opportunity that has recently arisen. If you could please give me a call back and let me know when a good time would be for us to meet, I’d love to talk to you.” He rattled off a phone number that Brandt didn’t bother to write down; he’d always been able to remember strings of numbers with remarkable accuracy.

  “Huh,” Brandt said out loud, the syllable muffled by the bread and cheese he’d stuffed into his mouth. He finished chewing it and swallowed, then went back to his bedroom to retrieve his cell phone from the bedside table. His curiosity had been stirred by the message the professor had left. Had Olivia lied to him about being in trouble at school? Had she cheated on a test or paid someone to write a paper for her and gotten caught, and was just using the excuse that she’d run out of money to cover the fact that she was getting kicked out?