Humanity's Hope: Book 1 in the Saving Humanity Series

CHAPTER 5

Dizziness swept over Caleb, nausea gripped his stomach. Placing his hand on a tree, he steadied himself so he wouldn't fall to the ground. Pain radiated through his arm. Through unfocused eyes, he glanced at the bite. Blood continued to flow from the wound, blackness snaked its way through his veins. The sickness was taking over. Whatever it was that made zombies was taking over his body. The thought made his knees weak, his vision went blurrier. He barely felt himself falling to his knees. After everything he had been through outside the city, he was going to die in a park. Talk about irony. Or was it Karma? Caleb couldn't keep his thoughts straight to figure it out. He might have found it ironic if he could form a complete thought.

He shook his head to clear his vision. The fuzzy outlines of Samuel and the Big Zombie were a few steps in front of him. He needed to follow them, get ... where? Where were they going? What was going to happen to him once they got there? Why hadn't he stayed behind to let the authorities take him into custody? Why did he trust a BZ? Why did BZs even exist? His head started to pound. He had to keep moving. Using the tree, he attempted to pull himself up. His hand slipped on the bark, and he fell forward, right into blackness.

* * * *

A click sounded behind Caleb, the distinct sound of a gun slide being pulled back and chambering a round. He glanced over his shoulder. The room was dark, so he couldn't see the person behind him, but sensed him. The man's body heat radiated through the back of Caleb's shirt; the scent of sweat, dirt, and dried blood entered his nostrils. Caleb tightened his grip on his gun. The metal was warm. It was hard for him to tell where his flesh ended and the metal began. His breathing came in rasps, the warm humid air around him condensed and ran down his spine. In the distance, footsteps sounded—barely audible. Had he imagined them? After a few minutes, they grew louder, multiplied. A steady thump, thump, thump of feet on concrete approached, coming from what sounded like hundreds of people. A knot developed in Caleb's stomach. It was possible there were at least a hundred, but he suspected there were more. Lots more. He adjusted the grip on his gun and made ready to fire. The comfort he normally felt when the firearm was in his grasp wasn't there. It felt light, useless. The footsteps drew closer.

A metal clang resounded through the room. They had made it to the metal door. A rhythmic pounding starting. Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang. Repeating over and over, occasionally accompanied by low moaning. Caleb bit his lip. Darkness surrounded him, blanketing him in comfort, protecting him. If the light illuminated him, he would die. He hoped the darkness would never leave.

He shifted uneasily, hoping to get himself into a better position if the door gave way. A hand touched his shoulder, squeezing slightly. The touch was comforting, yet full a fear. The fingers shook slightly, the grip lost some of its strength. Caleb wanted to say something reassuring, tell his father everything was going to be all right, but he didn't want to lie. The clanging continued, growing more and more demanding. A shard of light pierced into the room, near the top of the door. Caleb's heart skipped a beat. The hand left his shoulder, the body pressed closer to his, the muscles stiffening. Caleb felt his own muscles tighten, his finger twitched on the trigger, ready to fire. Another shard of light stabbed through the room, followed by another and another. Caleb's face was illuminated, as was the empty expanse of room in front of him. Setting his jaw, he stared down the sight of his gun.

Boom! The door fell in. Caleb was blinded by whiteness. He blinked, trying to regain his vision. When he could see, a half-rotted skull was inches from his face, hissing and snapping for his flesh. Caleb sucked in a sharp breath and moved backward. His foot slipped out from underneath him, he fell to the floor. Warmth radiated through his back, followed by a stickiness.

Sweat beaded his forehead, an oppressive heat surrounded his body. He tried to wipe the perspiration from his brow, but his arm wouldn't move. Panic gripped his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes as wide as he could. Shards of light streamed all around him, illuminating the rotting flesh of the undead as they crowded around. Putrid bodies pressed against him, pinning his arms to the ground. They writhed and pulsated as they stuffed red, wet flesh into their mouths. Oh, God! Is that mine? He didn't dare glance down at his body, but he had to know. Steeling his nerves, he held his breath and glanced down. The air rushed out of him in relief. His body was still intact. Who were they feasting upon? He turned his head. His nose almost touched the pale face of his father. The eyes were wide open, a look of horror covered his face. Caleb's throat tightened, tears stung his eyes. He wanted to cry out, but he couldn't risk drawing the zombies' attention to him and suffering the same fate. He should have done more to save his dad. The door should have been barred better, they should have tried to escape like the others. Why had they stayed in that room? It was a death sentence. That's right, Dad didn't want to leave. He wanted to wait for reinforcements. Caleb couldn't let him stay alone. He volunteered to be with him. He should have tried harder to convince him they couldn't stay.