The Becoming Read Online Free PDF

sweat was from stress or from the heat of the fire.
    “What’s going on?” Andrew asked as he came into the living room. He held two drinking glasses in his hands; condensation ran down the sides to wet his skin. He squinted at the television and cocked his head to the side.
    Cade glanced at Andrew long enough to take in the fact that it was indeed him before she turned her gaze right back to the television. “There’s a riot in Memphis,” she replied. Her voice betrayed her shock at the news.
    “Wow,” Andrew breathed. He dropped to the couch beside Cade, nearly spilling the drinks all over both of them. When he plunked the glasses onto the coffee table, the liquid in one of them sloshed out over the rim. “When did this start?” Andrew asked as he wiped the condensation off on the thighs of his pants.
    “I’m not sure,” Cade admitted. She turned up the volume after a momentary glance back at the staircase. She didn’t want to wake Josie by turning the volume up too much; she and Andrew would never get the preschooler back to sleep if she came downstairs.
    Andrew gave an almost imperceptible nod, intent on the screen for several minutes. The silence during that time hung heavily between them, and the feeling of it lying across her chest like a wet blanket made Cade uncomfortable. “That’s really not all that far from here,” Andrew said as a map of Memphis came up on the screen. A bright red star marked the location of the riots and fires in question. Andrew grabbed his drink as he studied the screen and added, “Barely three miles.”
    Cade drew in a breath of surprise as she realized that Andrew was right. Three miles wasn’t much at all. It was less than the distance she ran every morning: five miles, religiously, just after sunrise. Andrew abandoned his drinking glass and went to the front window, his steps still unsteady as he crossed the carpet to look out into the darkness. “You don’t think it will come over this way, do you?” she asked.
    “No, I think we’ll be okay here,” Andrew said. He rested his hand against the cold pane of glass. He spoke in an absent tone, as if he weren’t totally focused on what he said. It disturbed Cade enough to draw her attention away from the television, and she frowned as she rose from her seat to join him. She wasn’t reassured or convinced. The sound of the reporter’s voice on the television made her stop in mid-step, and she half-turned to look back at the screen. The woman’s voice had taken on a heavier, more noticeable sense of urgency.
    We’ve just received a report … I’m sorry, is this correct? the reporter asked someone off camera, her voice shaking slightly. Cade couldn’t decide if the reporter was excited or terrified, but both options made her feel nauseated. She dug her nails into her palms as she stepped closer to the television. We have just received an unverified report from one of the county hospitals that numerous victims of the riots appear to be in some sort of delusional state. There are reports of the injured attacking the doctors and nurses trying to assist them…
    “Jesus, what is going on? ” Cade snapped. A twinge of genuine fear buzzed down her spine. She reached for the television remote again and flipped through a few channels. Cade settled on another news program, where a somber-looking man sat behind a desk, holding a small sheaf of papers; she could just make out the faint tremble of the sheets as the man’s hands shook.
    Once again, the footage you are about to see may not be appropriate for younger viewers. It was taken on the street outside the Southside residential fire by Fox News reporter Veronica Sawyers .
    Andrew drifted away from the window and stood behind the sofa. The scene changed to footage of a young, healthy-looking blond reporter, microphone in hand, her hair and makeup perfectly applied.
    Police and first responders are asking everyone to please remain indoors at this time. They’re