At the end of the hall was the kitchen. At one point, the entire thing had been white with accents of silver on the drawer and cupboard handles and stainless steel appliances. Caleb stopped in the doorway and frowned. Why would anyone want an all white kitchen? It would be such a pain to keep clean. All that foodstuff being spilled or splattering while cooking. He shrugged. That was probably the point. It was a status symbol. A way to show others the owner had the means to keep it spotless. Either that or they never used it. The white had dulled to gray, and stains and scuffs covered the drawers and cupboards. Fingerprints were visible on the fridge door, and brown stained the inside of the glass on the oven. If there ever was a social equalizer, it was zombies. They didn’t care about class standing or how much money someone had. Influence and connections couldn’t save them. Nothing could.
Caleb snickered at the thought. That wasn’t entirely true anymore. The possibility existed he could save them. He didn’t doubt once it became public what he was capable of, the social hierarchy would form once again. He would be used so others could gain power, but before any of that happened, he had to figure out exactly what he was capable of.
The kitchen was a bust. There was no information in there. Caleb briefly considered checking the cupboards and the fridge for food, then decided against it. He needed to leave as sparse a trail as possible. His stomach groaned in protest. He turned out of the kitchen and considered going through the rest of the house, but he was sure it would be in vain. There was no reason to keep anything here. He doubted the living were there long enough, and why would they be? It was in the middle of the zombie ghetto. The only thing their presence would do was attract a lot of unwanted attention.
He stood in the middle of the hallway and sighed. Orangish-red sunlight filtered into the house, elongating the shadows of the sparse furnishings and reminding Caleb that night was right around the corner. No one would be coming tonight. His gaze drifted out the window to the corpses still lumbering toward the sound. They were completely unaware of the wall blocking their path and clumped together in a tangle of tattered clothes and rotten flesh. He turned his gaze from the window and directed it upstairs.
The second floor was always the safest place. Zombies had a hard time navigating the stairs. It wasn’t a guarantee they couldn’t get up there; given enough time, they could figure out the obstacle. But with an escape plan, it was easy to get away from them. Out of habit, Caleb headed upstairs. It was just as decrepit as the first floor. He headed for the room at the front of the house. It was a massive master bedroom. The furniture had long since been removed, leaving behind indentations in the frayed carpet where it had been. There was a window seat that looked out over the ghetto and was partially hidden by broken shades. A torn pad covered it, making it an almost soft place to sit. Caleb pulled his knees to his chest as he stared through the dust-covered window. The creatures still shambled toward the sound.
How long does it take before they give up?
How long will it be before you give up?
Caleb frowned. Was that even an option anymore? No. He’d come too far. He couldn’t stop now. Besides, things had progressed so much further. He wanted answers—needed them. A shudder ran through his body as visions of being close to the creatures ran through his mind. He had to find out what it all meant.
The sun continued to sink below the horizon. Aside from the ghetto, Caleb also had a great view of the city. He’d never seen it at night—not since the rising. In the before times, it spilled light into the dark places. Now, only a meager flicker of light pushed through the tall, angular shapes. Caleb rested his head on his knees. He yearned to be back in the city in his apartment, with things just as they had been before. It wasn’t perfect, but at least he could rest.
His stomach growled, and he grimaced. In the city, he would have food. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of anything but the undead and how hungry he was.
When he opened them again, bright white light flooded through the window. Squinting, he looked toward the sky. Night blanketed everything else. Caleb raised his head and stretched out his legs. His joints popped, his muscles protested the movement. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep, and he had no idea how long he’d been out, but that wasn’t what he found troubling. The ghetto was lit up with floodlights almost as bright as the sun, illuminating the creatures that had finally left the pursuit at the wall and stood like ghastly statues. Caleb’s mind drifted to his conversation with the cop and how he said the regulars had escaped from the ghetto. How? Only the living got them to move and with the visibility, it would have been easy to view if someone got in. Of course, with Zomtech and the authorities involved, it wouldn’t take much to cover anything up. It was becoming apparent Caleb was way over his head.
So give up. You’re too weak to be successful anyway.
Caleb set his jaw. I’ve had worse odds before that I’ve survived. I have to try.
He moved from the window seat to the floor and stretched out. Dust and the faint smell of mildew tickled his nose. Fully aware he probably wouldn’t sleep, Caleb also knew he had a long day ahead of him. He needed to get as much rest as possible.
Caleb watched the floodlights fade into the gray and soft yellow haze of morning. He’d moved back to the window seat and stared at the zombies, hoping maybe some understanding or answers would magically come to him. They didn’t. His hunger had passed from the growling stomach stage to cramps, and a headache pounded his skull. He would attempt to alleviate some of the discomforts with water, but it wouldn’t be long before weakness and disorientation set in. His grip already felt tenuous on the handle of the hoe.
He stepped into the kitchen and up to the sink. Turning the handle, he anxiously awaited the water to flow. Nothing. He twisted it back and forth to no avail. With a sense of defeat, he laid his forehead on the faucet.
Did I make a mistake? Maybe the rumors aren’t true.
You still have a chance to leave.
A loud and distinctly human “woooooot!” echoed through the morning air. Caleb lifted his head and stepped to the kitchen entryway. The sun glinting off metal caught his attention. The beam of reflected light came from the window in the living room, so he pressed his back against the wall near the opening and peered around the side. Gazing outside, he realized how close he was to the main gates of the ghetto. It was probably only twenty steps from the front door of the house, which explained why this one was still standing. It was convenient. The zombies were once again migrating past the gate and clumping a few yards away, no doubt drawn to the sound. Behind the iron bars was a white van. It idled as the gates swung open, pushing undead out of the way as they moved. The vehicle drove through and headed for the house. Caleb pulled himself from staring out the window and searched for a place to hide. He wasn’t going to go back into the closet. There was only one way in and out, and he mentally chastised himself for running in there in the first place. Not finding anything, he ducked into the living room and hid in a shadowed corner.
Must and mildew tickled his nostrils, and the wall squished behind his back. This room had some furniture with a couch and two chairs facing each other. The upholstery was worn and faded, tears and splits covered several of the cushions. They had probably been red at one point, but now they were faded to a rust color. Caleb contemplated crouching behind one of the chairs, but before he could move, boots stomped into the house. The layers of carpet muffled the sound, but the fall of footsteps was distinct in the silence.
“Damn those scavengers,” a voice boomed in the other room. It seemed obscenely loud in the quiet house.
Caleb cringed. Instinctively, his gaze drifted out the window to see if the noise drew the attention of the undead. It seemed loud enough to.
“They think it’s so funny to hoot and holler and get the zombies all riled up.”
“Quit complaining,” another voice said. His tone was calmer and softer. “It makes it easier to round ‘em up, doesn’t it?”
/> “I guess,” the first voice replied.
The pair headed down the hall, and Caleb heard the closet door open and things clinking. What were they getting? He hadn’t noticed anything in there, but he hadn’t exactly been looking. He was curious, but not dumb enough to risk a look. Eventually, the clinking stopped. The closet door closed.
“You ready, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Two minutes.”
The footsteps faded away from Caleb, then the front door opened and closed. Caleb really wanted to watch the men work, but he had a limited window to get to that van. He hurried out of the living room and back into the kitchen. When the men entered, he hadn’t heard the front door open, so he assumed there was another entrance. He was right. It was in the kitchen on the far side of the counter nearest the wall. Slowly and silently, he opened the door. Beyond was a garage with the van parked inside. Caleb’s stomach fluttered. It seemed too good to be true—too easy. But on the other hand, he wasn’t going to question it. He needed to get back to the city.
Before stepping into the garage, he listened intently and scanned the area. He really hoped there wasn’t another person left behind guarding the van. The only sounds were the ticking of the engine as it cooled. He couldn’t waste any more time. Stepping into the garage and pulling the door quietly shut behind him, he headed for the van. Standing at the driver’s side window, he peered in. There were two bucket seats for the driver and passenger, then a bench seat behind those for other passengers. Behind that was a solid metal wall that separated the cab from the cargo area. He placed his hand on the handle and hoped it wasn’t locked. Right before lifting it, he realized the hoe probably wasn’t going to fit under the seat with him. Shoot! What was he going to do with it? He had to put it somewhere they wouldn’t notice it. His eyes darted around the area. It wasn’t a typical garage. There were no garage things in there—no tools, no boxes, no lawn maintenance supplies. It was empty. That wasn’t helpful. A hoe would be out of place and raise suspicion. Still, he had to do something with it. He decided to put it in the only place the guys probably wouldn’t look: under the van. Sure, they would notice it eventually, but by then, Caleb would be a long way away.
Caleb bent over and gently set the hoe on the ground. He was careful to place it so that the tires wouldn’t run it over. He straightened up and placed his hand back on the door handle. With meticulous movements, Caleb opened the door and climbed inside. He shut it silently, then scrambled into the back. It was a tight squeeze, but he was able to wedge himself under the back seat.
He had just pushed himself under the seat when the van shook. The back doors squeaked as they were pulled open. Grunts, moans, and wheezes echoed through the garage and lasted for several moments before they were silenced by slamming doors. Several moments of silence followed. Caleb bit the inside of his cheeks as his heart fluttered in his chest. Then, footsteps clicked on the concrete floor, and both cab doors were pulled open with force. The van shook again and sunk slightly from the weight of the living as they climbed in. The doors slammed, then everything drifted once again into the dreaded silence. Caleb forced himself to take slow, shallow breaths. His vision was obscured by the seat above him, so he would never know if he had been spotted until they pulled him out.
They know. The voice in the darkness sounded pompous, as if it knew this would happen all along. You should have kept running.
Sweat beaded on Caleb’s forehead. His gaze darted as far as it could see, and he waited for the men to grab him. They couldn’t have spotted the hoe. There was no way. They hadn’t been in the garage long enough. It had to be something else.
“I absolutely hate this part of the job.” The voice belonged to the man Caleb had heard speak first in the house.
“You all right?” the other asked.
“I will be.”
That didn’t sound good. Something must have happened. Whatever it was, he hoped it kept their focus away from the back seat. It would make his life so much easier.
There was a moment of silence, then the van’s engine roared to life. Sunlight streamed through the windshield as the garage door opened, then the van moved forward. Caleb bit his bottom lip.
I really hope this works.
CHAPTER 15
The driver and passenger remained silent. Caleb’s discomfort grew. Without them talking to distract him, he was forced to focus on his uncomfortable situation. It felt as if the seat was pressing into his back, smooshing him into the metal floor of the van. The desire to crawl out and stick his head out the window was overpowering. The air felt thick and smelled faintly of exhaust. Caleb was convinced he was being asphyxiated and would soon fall into a deep sleep that he would never wake from. His skin felt prickly and hot, sweat beaded on the small of his back. The ragged breaths he was taking were too loud—he just knew it—and they were going to hear him and capture him. He tried to keep them smooth and even, but the thought of breathing in poison made it difficult.
At least you’ll be able to get out from under this seat.
Caleb closed his eyes and thought of the light. He drew in slow, silent breaths through his nose. If the air killed him, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. Either way, he needed to calm down. Panicking was just making it worse. What was he going to do when they got into the city? No doubt they would pull into a secure facility at Zomtech. They couldn’t risk the creatures getting into the city. There would more than likely be guards, with guns. There was no way Caleb would be able to get away from them. He’d have to explain why he was hiding in the van. Man! This was going from worse to deadly. Why hadn’t he thought this out better and considered all the angles?
You should have ran.
No. He could do this. He would just wait it out. There was no way they would guard the van forever. They wouldn’t check the backseat. Eventually, they would park the vehicle and let it sit. That was when he would make his break for it. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to stay under the seat until then. His breath hitched at the thought, but after a couple deep breaths, he got it back under control.
* * * *
“It hurts all the time.” Caleb pointed to the center of his chest. “Right here.”
The psychiatrist nodded slightly. “What were your expectations for how you would feel after all that you’d lost?” Her tone was soft, even, soothing.
“I just want it to stop!” Caleb’s tone was just below a shout. Panic and desperation crept around the edges.
Caleb lowered his gaze to his lap. His hands were flat against the couch next to his legs. His wrists were still wrapped in white gauze, but it would be coming off in the next few days. The malnutrition, dehydration, and trauma had taken its toll on his body. He was hooked up to the IVs for five days. He had started eating after two, but his body was slow to recover. Even now, he felt weak. Keeping his tone under control had caused black dots to dance in front of his eyes, and exhaustion slumped his shoulders forward. He certainly wasn’t as strong as he’d once been. They said it would return in time, but Caleb wasn’t so sure. So much had changed.
“I wish I could tell you everything was going to be all right.” The psychiatrist’s voice was even softer.
Caleb’s gaze flicked up to look at her briefly, then it settled back in his lap. In that short time, though, he saw the sympathy on her face. Her brown eyes glistened with tears, and her mouth turned down in a frown. The creases on her forehead and around her eyes deepened. Her dark skin seemed darker, shadowed with sadness.
“But the truth is, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Everything’s been turned upside down. Nothing makes sense anymore.” She shifted in her seat so she was leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees.
Caleb glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and held her in his sight.
“What I do know is that what you did wasn’t abnormal or weird. You aren’t odd for feeling the way you do. You are allowed to feel like that.”
Ca
leb’s throat tightened. His breath hitched. He folded his arms across his chest.
“You can’t deny that the situation that brought you here wasn’t bizarre. You were so far off the grid, so far from others, you should have died.” A small smile crossed her lips. “But you didn’t. Fate, a higher power, the universe—whatever you want to call it—saved you. Gave you a second chance. That has to mean something.” She cocked her head to the side, as if her last statement was a question he was supposed to answer.
Caleb huffed. For the past five days, he had been cursing the world in his mind that he had been saved. His anger grew until he thought it would burst out of him in uncontrollable fury. He thought he would lash out and attack anyone who came around him. He envisioned tearing out his IVs and trashing his room. When the nurses came in to get him under control, he would punch them into unconsciousness and run from the building, once again disappearing in the ruined world. But he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy. He could barely walk to the bathroom by himself. That added to his irritation. His jaw was sore from clenching it. The hollowness became deeper, blackness crept into his brain. The desire to withdraw into himself grew more pronounced.
“There’s so little hope left in the world, Caleb. There is so much pain and sadness. But there is a ray of light, no matter how small. You should have died—I don’t doubt many times over. But here you sit. You’re broken and bruised, but nothing that time won’t heal. You’ll never forget what you went through, and it has changed everything, but you’ll also do what humans have always done. You’ll survive.”
Saving Humanity Series (Book 1): Humanity's Hope Page 14
