The Human Race (Book 2): The Fighting Chance

by Tahnee Fritz

  A few minutes pass of me kneeling on the ground, puking next to a tree. The pain in my stomach stops long enough for me to open my eyes and look for the building again. Things start to come back to focus and the buzzing fades a tad. I find the strength I need to get to my feet and lean against the tree as I stand. I feel something dripping from the corner of my mouth and I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. Blood is what I see.

  “What is happening to me?” I say through gritted teeth.

  At least talking doesn’t hurt so much.

  I pick up my right foot and start moving away from the tree. I cringe as the pain shoots up my leg and clench a fist before taking another step. My fingernails poking into the palms of my hands helps slightly with the pain. It’s not enough to stop it entirely, but it helps.

  I move as fast as my body will let me and the building gets closer. The pain isn’t going away, not that I was expecting it to. I never thought dying would hurt this much, but I also never thought I’d get bit by a vamp and a zombie all in one day.

  There are a few trees left before getting to a gravel driveway. There are no cars parked here and the place seems empty and dead. Not like it would stop me from going inside anyway. I’m pretty much dead as it is.

  I let go of the last tree and walk over the loose rocks at my feet. It’s much harder to move without having something to lean against and it seems like it is taking forever to get to the door. I hold onto my stomach and push through the pain to get there. My head is pounding by the time my bloody hands press against the glass to push the door open. Luckily it’s not locked and I walk right in.

  There are shelves full of dead plants all over the place and a few bags of seeds cover the floor. One of them has been split open and my feet slide a little when I step on them. The register is at the front of the store and I practically fall against it in order to keep myself upright. I glance up to the ceiling, noticing the windows in it to let sunlight in for the plants. Too bad that didn’t save them, but at least it keeps the vamps out.

  “Is anyone here?” I manage to say as loud as I can.

  I wait a moment but never get an answer. Not a movement, sound, or even breathing. I’m completely alone in this old greenhouse. It’s a big relief knowing no one will be here to witness what I’ll be changing into. I think that’s about the scariest part of it all. Changing into something I cannot control. A creature that feeds on the living in order to survive.

  Why was I so stupid? Why didn’t I pay more attention to what was happening around me? Why did I have to let everyone in my family down, including Ryder?

  These are the worst questions I’ve ever had to ask myself.

  I grip my stomach and walk further into the building. The sharp pains are still there and I feel nauseated. Any minute now and I could be on my knees letting my insides spill out of me again. I grip a nearby shelf to ease in walking and start looking for the bathroom. It’s the only place I can think of that will shield me from the world and I can die in a small amount of peace.

  At the back of the store is a huge section filled with various types and sizes of pots for planting. Most of them have been knocked over and broken from some kind of struggle and are now in pieces on the floor. Others are still stacked in a neat tower where they’ll never move again. I lean against a tall stack of clay pots and look around. Another cash register is at this part of the store and behind that is a room with a restroom sign above it. I force myself to move toward it.

  Everything I touch with my right hand leaves behind a bloody print. The marks from the zombie wound are letting enough blood flow down my arm to my fingertips. I wipe my hand on my jeans hoping that will help, but it doesn’t. I touch the wall by the bathroom and a perfectly smeared handprint is left behind on the white paint.

  The bathroom isn’t anything special. There’s a skylight in here as well, which is a little weird if you ask me. The sun shines through the small square in the ceiling to let in just enough light so I can see. There are two stalls and both of the doors are wide open revealing an empty toilet. The garbage can is still upright next to the door. On the wall across from me are two mirrors above two separate sinks. My feet move faster to the mirror closest to the stalls and I let my hands stain the white porcelain of the sink with blood.

  I look at my reflection. My face is pale and sickly. My lips are a faded shade of red and my hair looks dull. The bite marks on my neck have turned purple and look infected. I lean forward and stare into my eyes. They are a very dull shade of the same brown they’ve always been.

  A slight jab of pain hits my stomach and I close my eyes for a second. My fingers tighten around the edges of the sink as I fight back this pain. All I can think of is wanting this never-ending struggle to be over with. I know I’m going to die very soon, but I’m not sure I’ll survive the pain it will take to get there. This is too much for one person to have to go through and I’d hate to think this what all infected humans had to go through during their own change. If I held onto my gun, I’d be finding it very hard not to pull the trigger to end this suffering.

  The pain lets up again and I take a deep, staggering breath. I open my eyes and see my face staring back at me and I lean a little closer to the mirror. My only focus now is the color of my irises.

  “Please stay brown.” I say to my eyes in the mirror. “Please stay brown.”

  I feel the bile rising in my throat again and I clutch the sink with my hands. I force the vomit to stay down and keep staring at my eyes. I don’t want to see the pitch blackness of a zombie staring back at me. I don’t want to see the hazy grey of a vampire in the mirror either. I just want the boring brown eyes I’ve always had to stay with me, to be the one thing that won’t make me a monster.

  My nose is about two inches from hitting the glass of the mirror. I stare at my eyes, yelling at them in my head to stay brown as the sickness and pain is constantly rising inside me. As I stare at them, the brown color of the iris begins to change. I shake my head back and forth and grit my teeth.

  “Stay brown!” I scream and slam a fist against the mirror.

  A crack spiders its way across the glass. It distorts my reflection, but I can still see my eyes. A grey hue has taken over the brown in them. It doesn’t cover my entire eye like the zombies black ones nor are they hazy like the vamps. They are just grey and appear lifeless. I close them and lower my head in shame.

  At that instant, a pain so sharp hits my entire body and I can’t stop myself from collapsing to the floor. I land on my shoulder, the pain from that doesn’t even affect me. I grip my stomach and stare at the wall in front of me. There’s nothing to keep the pain from coming, nothing to keep myself from changing into a new kind of creature to infect the human population.

  I wish I would have held onto my gun. My suffering would have been over by now with one quick pull of the trigger. My life would be over and I wouldn’t be dying on the floor in some bathroom in the middle of nowhere. I’d be forever dead and get to spend the rest of eternity wherever the dead go. Whether that be in heaven or hell, as long as I’d get to see my family when I got there, I really wouldn’t care.

  It’s cold on this floor which is only making the pain seem much worse. My whole body is shivering and my teeth are chattering. The tears coming from my eyes are the warmest part of my being and even they hurt. I don’t have the strength to wipe them away. Every movement I make feels like knives stabbing my body. It feels like my insides are on fire while the rest of me freezes on the floor. My heart is beating so fast I can’t calm down enough for it to slow its tempo. It’s getting hard to breathe without feeling like my lungs are going to explode, but I feel like vomiting if I hold my breath.

  I close my eyes, hoping this will all be over soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

  Through the blackness behind my eyes, I see Ryder’s face. The only face I want to be seeing right now. He’s upset and tears fill his eyes, but that’s still him. I wish I could hear his voice. I wish I c
ould hear him screaming my name one more time. I hate knowing I’ll never get to see him or feel safe with him again. I’ll never get to feel his skin against my own or taste his lips upon mine. His kisses were the best thing in the world and the only kind I’ve ever known. At least I got to tell him I loved him before my life fell apart.

  I can see his mouth moving in my mind. The words never come out, but it’s just my mind replaying the last moment I got to see him. He’s probably still screaming my name, struggling against Carter’s grip to come after me. I’m so grateful for Carter holding him back like that. I really would have died if Ryder got hurt just to come after me. His image is starting to get fuzzy. I’m losing him and I can’t fight through the pain long enough to get it back.

  This is it.

  This is my ending.

  My thoughts are fading to the black death that is sure to consume me. My body is shaking even more now and my heart is going too fast for me to even determine if it’s beating at all or if it’s just one continuous pounding in my chest. There’s blood in the palms of my hands from my fingernails digging into my skin. I keep my eyes shut tight as I take one last breath while everything else disappears.

  * * *

  “Bridget,” a voice, barely a whisper, enters my ear, “Bridget, wake up.”

  Behind my eyes, the world is still black. No face, no image of the life I’ll never have to take over the darkness. The pain has stopped and I don’t feel like death anymore. I’m not shivering and the tears aren’t rolling down my face. I actually feel fine.

  “Bridget.” I hear the whispering voice and I open my eyes.

  I’m still in the bathroom, lying on the floor. The sun isn’t shining through the glass window above me, but I can see everything as if it were. There’s a set of muddy feet not far in front of me. No shoes I recognize although I’m sure I know this person. They know my name so I must.

  “Get up, Bridget.” The voice is louder this time, coming from a man.

  I carefully set my palms of the floor, expecting pain to flood my body, and I push myself up. There’s no pain as I get to my feet and brush the hair out of my eyes. I can see everything perfectly as though this room were lit by candles or the lights still worked. It’s as though I have night vision or something.

  The person sharing this room with me stands in doorway. His sweatshirt is torn by his neck and his hands and fingers are brown with mud. His black hair is a mess and there’s a bite mark on his neck. I look into his familiar eyes and see sadness staring back at me.

  “Charlie?” I ask, confusion filling my voice.

  He nods, “Been a while, Bridget.”

  “You could say that.” The lump is already forming in my throat as I stare at my brother’s face.

  It’s been five years since I’ve seen him and it’s felt like forever since I’ve heard his voice. Yet, here is his, standing a few short feet away from me, looking the exact same as the night we covered his body with dirt. He was eighteen when he died and still looks that way at this very moment. For the first time, I’m actually older than my brother.

  I start moving my feet and it feels like I’m walking on air. I just want to touch him, to wrap my arms around him for the first time in years. I’ve missed him so much and seeing him now is more than I can bear. I need to cry on his shoulder. I need him to tell me things are going to be alright.

  He raises a hand to stop me from getting to close to him, “Sorry, Bridget, you can’t hug me.”

  I shake my head and stop moving, “Why?”

  “I’m dead, remember?” he replies.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here though? ‘Cause I’m dead now too?” I ask.

  “You’re not dead, little sis.” He states.

  “What are you talking about? I was bitten, of course I’m dead.” I retort.

  He shakes his head from side to side and looks past me, “See for yourself.”

  Hesitantly, I glance over my shoulder and look down at the floor. A shivering, pain-filled Bridget is still there, convulsing from the pain she’s in. Blood forms a small puddle by her mouth and it makes me sad. I can’t stand the thought of seeing myself in so much pain like that. My body is dying and transforming into something I’ll never understand. At least I had the common courtesy to kick myself out of my head while this is happening. I run my fingers through my hair and turn back to my brother.

  “Sorry, sis.” Charlie says.

  “Nothing you could’ve done.” I reply. “I couldn’t even stop this from happening.”

  “Yeah, but you tried.” He says.

  “I failed, Charlie. I let all of you down.”

  He shakes his head again, “You didn’t fail anyone. You made it farther than any of us could. You were able to save yourself and the lives of quite of few other people because you lack the ability to give up. You are not capable to let things go and you set out to make great things happen. Because of you, that boy you’re so in love with is still alive.”

  “Ryder.” My voice is hardly a whisper.

  “Yeah, him.” Charlie says.

  I close my eyes and try to find his image in my thoughts again. The only thing I can see is the utter blackness in the void that has taken over my memory. I still remember his name and the times we shared together, but I cannot bring his image back. I could squeeze my eyes shut as tight as they’ll go and I’ll never bring his face back.

  “Bridget,” Charlie says and I open my eyes, “this isn’t your fault.”

  “It is my fault.” I say. “I didn’t turn around fast enough. I didn’t aim right or pull the trigger at the right moment. I know better than that. Dad taught me better than that. Why did this happen to me?”

  He shrugs, “I’ve been asking myself that very same question for years now. All of us have been. Mom, Maggie, and, yes, even dad. We don’t get why this had to happen and we’re always stuck wondering why it did. It’s like we’re caught in limbo, but we’ve come to know that this isn’t our fault. No matter what we could have done, we would still be in this position. I still would’ve gotten killed by that vamp, Maggie attacked by that zombie, and mom still would’ve killed herself because she couldn’t handle the grief anymore.”

  “What about dad?” I ask. “Would he still be dead even if something had gone differently?”

  Charlie nods, “Even him. He tried staying with you, sis, he really fought the effects from that vamp’s bite for as long as he could. He stayed with you until he couldn’t handle the pain anymore. But you made his final moments the best moments he could’ve wished for.”

  “How do you know this?” I ask.

  He shrugs, “I was there. I’ve always been there, right by your side. All of us have. We were there when you buried dad in the rain. There when you couldn’t sleep through the tears in your eyes and the sadness in your heart. When you fought those zombies and saved your boyfriend’s life. My favorite part was watching you stand up to that town and save those people. Watching you fight the vamps for something you believe in, was the proudest I’ve ever been of you.”

  A small smile forms across my lips. Knowing all of them were there watching over me when I needed them the most, made doing those things worth it a little more. It makes this life a lot more bearable just to know they have been by my side since things went south.

  “Where’s everyone now?” I ask.

  “They didn’t want to see this one.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because I knew you didn’t want to be here either. Someone needed to help you get out of your head while the madness takes over your body. I’m the escape you needed for this moment.” He replies.

  “You’ve always been good at being an escape for me.” I say.

  “That’s what older brothers are here for. Well, in my case not here, but...” he smiles and looks up at the ceiling.

  I take this second to look over my shoulder again. The real me is still on the floor. The shivering and shaking is slowing and the blood isn’t dripp
ing from her lips anymore. Her eyes are squeezed shut so tight, I can tell she’s still in pain.

  “See,” Charlie draws my attention back to him, “I’m already taking your mind off the pain you’re in.”

  “What’s going to happen to me now? What am I going to turn into?” I ask.

  He shrugs yet again, “Honestly, I have no idea. No human has ever been infected by both creatures before.”

  “Will I still be myself?”

  “With you, anything’s possible. You got zombies to fight a battle with the vamps and kill themselves in the process. Whatever you’ll be when you wake up, you’ll be something this world has never seen. Something this world will never forget.”

  “You think I’ll wake up from this? You think I’m not gonna die completely?” I ask.

  He nods his head, “You’re a strong, young woman, Bridget. You’ve overcome challenges no person should have to be faced with. I know you’ll wake up.”

  “Well, that’s good, I guess. If I run into someone out there, I probably won’t last very long, but at least I’ll wake up.” I reply.

  He smiles and shakes his head, “Leave it to you to let your sarcasm take a turn for the dark side.”

  He looks up at the ceiling again, then turns away from me. I let him get through the doorway before taking a step and stopping him.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” I ask.

  He turns slightly and says, “It’s time for me to go back, sis. I knew this visit was going to be a short one and I have to go.”

  “I don’t want you to go. I need you here with me.” I beg.

  This is the first time I’ve seen my brother or heard his voice in a long time. How can I just let him walk away from me? How can I let this moment be over before it really begins? I don’t want to see him go again. A part of me died with him that night in the woods and a bigger part of me feels like its dying all over again just knowing he’s leaving. This was probably the only time I’ll ever see him and I don’t want it to end.