But now, as this thing helped him to his feet, he noticed the spark in her eyes. He couldn’t tell why it was so alluring. Whatever it was caused anger to tense his muscles. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be simple—us versus them. The humans against the monsters. But the line of who the real monsters were was becoming blurred. Humans against humans. Humans against zombies. BZs working with humans. RBZs as assassins. When did it all stop making sense?
He would have jerked out of her grasp if he had the strength, but he didn’t. And something about that thought didn’t seem right. She had saved his and Samuel’s lives. There was a sense of comfort in her grip—her rotting, unnaturally strong grip. His stomach cramped further and the dizziness grew. His knees buckled, but Lilah’s grip kept him from going down.
“Oh, looks like you’ve had a little too much excitement.” Matt’s voice sounded far away. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
His arm wrapped around Caleb’s waist and held him upright. Caleb was thankful for the solidness of his grip. He leaned into Matt and did his best to walk with him. His feet wouldn’t obey his commands, and they shuffled and tripped as he willed them forward. Still, they eventually made it back to the room Caleb had woken in, and he was placed on the cot. He was never so thankful to feel the firm support of the canvas beneath him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he eased himself into the laying position.
“You may be immune to the disease,” Matt explained in his distant-sounding voice, “but it still takes its toll on you. Get some rest. We’ll talk more later.”
Caleb didn’t hesitate to comply. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he let the darkness take over.
You can’t save them, the voice whispered. And even if you could, what makes you think they want to be saved?
Caleb pulled himself into the fetal position. The cramping in his stomach turned into fire. It felt as if lava flooded through his intestines. He wanted to throw up but was afraid if he did, his body would be destroyed from the inside.
Besides, the voice continued, the other survivors will only use you. They’ll do whatever they can to exploit you and save themselves. They’ve already started.
His thoughts drifted to the video he had received through email and how Rachel had been devoured by the undead. The fire burned hotter. He tried to pull himself into a tighter ball and bit his lower lip.
More people will meet that same fate. And it’ll be your fault. Do you want to be responsible for that death and destruction—again?
His stomach lurched, and he barely made it to the edge of the cot before the vomit splashed onto the floor.
You can’t let them get to you. You don’t know who you can trust. You should leave.
Bile scorched the back of Caleb’s throat as his stomach emptied itself of all its contents. The desire to comply with the voice and leave coursed through him, but his body couldn’t. Every muscle ached and was weak. He wasn’t able to go anywhere. Part of him knew he wouldn’t even if he could. It was the same scenario he’d gone through in front of Zomtech. There was nowhere he could go.
He finally stopped retching and rolled onto the cot. Pain still burned through his midsection, and he wondered if Matt, Samuel, and Lilah were still in the room to witness what had just happened. If the pain wasn’t so intense, he might have been embarrassed. But at that moment, he didn’t care. All he wanted was for the darkness to completely takeover, to force him into unconsciousness, but it didn’t. It kept him awake to experience every excruciating moment.
CHAPTER 7
Caleb wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to deal with the torment. He would have taken the nightmares over this. He wanted them. He knew they would come if he could just fall asleep. The darkness was becoming more profound. The voice was getting louder and bolder. Those notions left him unsettled. He’d worked so hard to keep both of them at bay, to bring the light back to his life, and it wasn’t taking much for it to be undone.
What would it do to him? Would it finally kill him? Would he get the peace he so desperately craved? That he tried to obtain on his own? Was that even what he wanted?
After months of working with the psychiatrist and facing his demons, he thought he had come back to the world of the living. He had felt like maybe he could hope again. He would never be completely free of the darkness—he was aware of that—but he had been managing it.
Maybe that was an illusion. Maybe he wasn’t managing anything at all—it was possible he was being managed. The thought caused his chest to tighten and his breath to catch. It was too much, too difficult. The emotions were too intense. He hadn’t actually been living, just existing, and it was a pathetic attempt at that. Just when he was getting things back together, this had to happen.
He wanted to be excited about it—he really did. He was humanity’s hope. Instead, all he could see was how he was going to be used and manipulated—how he already had been. It was only going to get worse. He was going to become a pawn.
His chest tightened again. He strained to inhale a breath. The air wouldn’t enter his lungs. He tried again. He heard the squeak as he tried to pull air into his body, and the pain radiated through his limbs when he was unsuccessful. Panic seized him. All of his muscles tensed. He gasped for air. Not again. He couldn’t do this again. The pain, the fear, the self-doubt and self-loathing was too much. And the worst part was he had to do it alone. There was no one to help him. He couldn’t trust Matt. Even though he wasn’t a prisoner, that didn’t mean things were on the up and up. Matt admitted he was hiding out here from the same people who were targeting Caleb. That meant he must have some idea of who was after him, but he wasn’t talking. He had plenty of time to tell Caleb who was after him before he collapsed. Matt avoided the issue. If he really wanted Caleb to trust him, he should have said something. It would have helped immensely.
And then, his body relaxed. Warmth pulsed through his veins and into his extremities. Air entered his lungs, and he breathed deeply. Relief washed over him. A ray of light pierced through the darkness of his mind’s eye. For a moment, laughter echoed in his brain, and then the darkness slammed in.
* * * *
Caleb inhaled a sharp breath and reached out. He grasped for something—anything—but his fingers closed around air. The blackness lightened to gray, allowing him to see some of his surroundings. He was in the desert, laying in the sand. He sat up slowly, confused. A slight breeze blew, tousling his hair and surrounding him in heat. He climbed to his feet. The gray lightened further, taking on a bluish tone.
Caleb turned slowly, taking in his surroundings and trying to figure out where he was. Sand surrounded him on all sides, rippled from the wind. A tiny plant wavered in the breeze. The heat grew more intense, penetrating through his skin and settling in his stomach area, making his intestines feel like they were on fire. He turned slowly back to the position he had started from. Before him lay a road. It was barely discernable from the sand. Caleb squinted to make sure it was really there. In the distance, a pinpoint of gold light glowed. It caught his gaze. He stared at it for several moments, amazed by its beauty, drawn to its twinkle. It was just what he needed to destroy the darkness within him. If he could just figure out how to possess it. He reached out for it, then stepped forward. A weight settled around his ankle. With difficulty, he tore his gaze from the gold light to look down.
“Ah!”
The hand had come from the ground. The bones of the fingers protruded from the top of the torn flesh. Black circles of rot were ready to split and fall off the yellowed flesh. Whatever body it was connected to was hidden beneath the sand. He jerked and pulled on his leg, trying to free himself, but the hand wouldn’t let go. He fell forward into a sea of hands. He reached out, hoping to find something that would stop his fall. Again, there was nothing to grab but air.
* * * *
Caleb twitched awake. He attempted to sit up on the bed, but his body was slow to obey his commands. The acidic burn of vomit coated his mouth. His
tongue felt thick, and his head pounded. Unable to sit up, he decided to roll onto his side instead. His body complied with that request, but the small movement exhausted him. His arm flopped over the side of the cot. The chill of the floor traveled through his fingertips to his wrist. The contrast between the temperature of the floor and his body became apparent. Heat rolled off him in waves. He expected sweat to pour off him, but there was nothing. His body was too dehydrated. He was tempted to slide onto the floor and let the coolness surround and engulf him.
“Are you feeling better?”
Caleb was startled by the low whisper. He involuntarily jerked and instantly wished he hadn’t. His skull threatened to split open, pain rushed in waves through every muscle in his body. Still, he wanted to know who was in the room with him. He forced his eyes open. The lids stuck together, but he managed to pry them apart. His eyes had trouble focusing, but when they did, he looked at Samuel sitting on the floor across from him. There was a sense of relief that settled over Caleb knowing it was someone he knew in his room.
“No,” Caleb croaked.
Pain throbbed through his skull, his throat caught fire. He squeezed his eyes shut to alleviate the hurt. It didn’t help.
Shuffling reached Caleb’s ears, then he felt a hand on his shoulder. It made his skin feel ten times hotter than it had before. He wanted to jerk away, but he couldn’t.
“Here. Have some water.”
Cool plastic poked Caleb gently in the lips, and he parted them immediately. The liquid ran over his tongue and across his cheeks and stopped the burning. As it slid down his throat and into his stomach, the heat dissipated from his body. The pain in his intestines lessened. It was such welcome relief. Too soon he heard the loud gurgling that indicated the water was gone. He spit out the straw with irritation.
“I’ll get more,” Samuel said quietly. His footsteps faded as he left the room.
Caleb rolled onto his back and opened his eyes—it didn’t take nearly as much effort to accomplish this time as it had before. His headache had subsided, and the swelling in his tongue had gone down. Physically, he was starting to feel better, and that helped his emotional mood slightly. At least he felt like things weren’t as fatalistic as they had appeared to be just a few moments ago. They were still far from rosy, though.
“Here ya go,” Samuel spoke softly.
Again, Caleb was startled. He hadn’t heard Samuel come back into the room. Thankfully, he didn’t twitch this time, but his heart slammed into his rib cage. Samuel held the cup out to Caleb, and with the little strength he had, Caleb took it and leaned up to take another drink. He downed half of the liquid before stopping. His stomach sloshed with water.
“What happened?” Caleb averted his gaze back to the ceiling.
The cot creaked as Samuel sat on the edge and tilted slightly from his weight. Caleb hoped he wasn’t flipped onto the floor.
“Matt’s not really sure. He’s never dealt with an immune before, so he has no idea why you reacted the way you did or if it’s normal. He thought you were in agony, so he gave you a muscle relaxer. Knocked you out for a while.”
“How long?”
“A couple hours. But I stayed here and watched you the whole time. Matt wanted to draw some of your blood, but I wouldn’t let him. I told him he had to wait until you could give your consent.”
Caleb smiled. He appreciated Samuel was there to look out for him. It was probably a rare moment that his paranoia actually paid off. There was probably no harm in Matt taking a sample. People already knew he was immune; that wouldn’t be a groundbreaking find. However, he may have been able to get more answers as to why he was reacting the way he was. There were so many questions and not enough answers. Anything probably would have been helpful.
“Did Matt say anything else?” Caleb wondered.
Samuel shook his head. “No.” He folded his hands in his lap and stared at Caleb, worry covered his face. “How are you handling all of this?”
The sincerity and concern in Samuel’s voice caused the breath to catch in Caleb’s chest and tears stung his eyes. The shrink had been the last one to ask him a similar question—right after Caleb had told her about his father’s death and everything he had to do to survive. He had been angry, confused, and sad. They all swirled inside of him in a mess of emotions, creating a black void. It was the same way he was feeling now. He didn’t have an answer for her then, and he didn’t have one for Samuel now. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. While he appreciated Samuel’s concern, it was also an irritation. It reminded him how weak he was. How broken.
“Yeah, man, I get it. It’s too much too fast. I was overwhelmed when I heard. I can only imagine how you feel.”
A bitter chuckled escaped Caleb’s lips.
“Maybe the better question to ask is what do you want to do?”
Silence pervaded the room for several long moments. That question had been foremost in Caleb’s mind since he awoke in the bunker. Just when he thought he had an answer, something would make him question his choice.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “What do you think I should do?”
Normally, he wouldn’t ask anyone else what he should do, but he was just so lost, so tired of making decisions, he wanted someone else to do it for him.
Samuel glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m not sure you should stay here.”
“Why?”
“Are you sure you can trust these guys?” Samuel asked. “I mean, we don’t even know them.”
Caleb wasn’t overly surprised those words came out of Samuel’s mouth. He was such the paranoid type. However, he was kind of surprised it had taken him this long to actually say something, and he said “guys,” implying there was more than just Matt. Samuel had obviously had contact with quite a few of them. Without knowing exactly how those encounters went, Caleb had to have faith his friend was steering him in the right direction. Caleb was actually more convinced that Samuel was looking out for himself and was trying to get Caleb to go with his friends, but at least Samuel was offering solutions.
“Don’t you think if Matt was going to do something, he would have already done it?” Caleb’s question was as much for him as it was for Samuel.
He shook his head. “No. I think he’s lulling you into a false sense of security.”
Caleb smirked. “And just where do you propose we go?”
Samuel lowered his voice even further. “My friends will take care of us.”
There it was. Just as Caleb had suspected. Samuel could have honestly been concerned for Caleb and only trusted his friends, but Caleb wasn’t so confident. He didn’t really want to be surrounded by eccentrics.
“Your conspiracy theorist friends?” Caleb didn’t even try to keep his voice down.
He agreed with Samuel they probably should get out of the bunker and away from Matt, but being around a group of paranoid loons was not the better alternative. How did Caleb know they wouldn’t use him and his immunity to get what they wanted?
His head pounded as the possibilities—and impossibilities—of where he could go ran through his head. What he really needed was to feel better and to be able to think clearly. He needed some alone time. He’d survived on his own before, he could do it again. More importantly, he needed time to figure out who he could trust. He squeezed his eyes shut to help alleviate some of the pain.
“Later,” he croaked. “I’m not going to make it very far in this condition.” He rolled onto his side and attempted to rest.
Samuel patted Caleb’s back. “Okay, man. I’ll be right here.”
Caleb sat on the cot, absently running his thumb over the scar on the inside of his wrist. Mercifully, he had fallen asleep and woke up later feeling much better. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but the headache and nausea were gone. His body felt bruised and battered, but it was a soreness he could deal with.
His room was empty. Samuel wasn’t in there guarding him.
The door had been left open. He was free to leave if he wanted to. That was the million dollar question: did he want to? Uncertainty and distrust swirled in his brain. There were so many “what ifs,” they mushed together in his mind and formed a ball of doubt. On top of that, the voice in the darkness was telling him to run, that he could end all of the confusion just by leaving. Caleb’s chest felt tight, his stomach tingled with nervousness. It was too much—all of it. He couldn’t handle the pressure.
The raised skin of the scar on his wrist felt soft beneath his thumb, and he found himself focusing on how it contrasted with the dryness of the rest of his flesh. His gaze fell to his wrist and the angel wing tattoo. He turned his right hand over and glanced at the devil wing tattoo. He stared at them for a long moment, taking deep breaths and stilling the thoughts and voices in his mind. It became apparent what Caleb needed to do.
CHAPTER 8
Samuel stared at Caleb across the table, the look on his face a mixture of confusion and anger. One eyebrow was raised, while the other was pushed down. His mouth was twisted in an open sneer. Three days had passed since he’d been in the bunker. He’d spent a lot of that time sleeping and fighting off the fever.
“You can’t be serious,” Samuel managed to say after several long moments of staring at Caleb. “It’s suicide!” Samuel’s voice echoed through the empty cafeteria, and he glanced around, the look on his face turning to fear. When no one stepped into the room, Samuel placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. He cleared his throat, and then lowered his voice. “You are intentionally putting yourself in harm’s way and potentially making yourself a target.”
Caleb scoffed. “I’m already a target. That’s not going to change.” He wasn’t nearly as worried as Samuel was about keeping his voice low.
Samuel’s face reddened, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That might be, but why would you purposely put yourself in a situation where you could get caught? You have no idea who’s after you or what they’re capable of.”
Saving Humanity Series (Book 1): Humanity's Hope Page 8
