Saving Humanity Series (Book 1): Humanity's Hope

by Sinclair, Pembroke

  He tried to keep his voice under control. “You do realize they’re probably kids, right? No older than thirteen. How do they know anything?”

  “Hey, they’ve been right about things before.”

  Caleb cocked his head to the side, his mouth drawn into a thin line. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  Samuel leaned back in his chair. “I can’t tell you. It’s classified.”

  Irritation flowed through Caleb’s veins as he turned to his computer. “That’s awfully convenient.” He typed in his password to log on.

  “You just wait, once this little attack gets buried in the media, you’ll know I was right. You’ll know my contacts were right. Something weird is going on.”

  Caleb turned around, throwing his hands in the air. “Right about what? What could they possibly know about this attack?”

  “It was planned. Someone let those zombies out. They are trying to cause fear and panic among the populace.”

  “To what end?”

  Samuel shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they want power, to gain control. Why do humans do half the stuff they do? But you watch, the government will downplay the situation, and more attacks will occur.”

  “Well, if you ask me, we wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if they just killed all the zombies in the first place. Then, we wouldn’t have random attacks and the possibility of more people turning. I mean, have they contributed to society? No. What’s the point of keeping them around?”

  “What if they can be cured?”

  Caleb scoffed. “Do you really think they’ll come back to be the way they were? They’re mutants, all of them. Freaks of nature that died and came back. Therefore, they should be destroyed.”

  “What if it was your mom? Or your sister? Would you still feel the same?”

  “Yes.” Caleb didn’t hesitate to answer. “I would have put them out of their misery myself.” The blackness at the edge of Caleb’s thoughts inched in closer.

  Samuel pressed his mouth closed. The look on his face told Caleb he wanted to say something more, but no words came out. That was just fine with him. He had discovered long ago the people who preached the loudest about the ethical treatment of zombies were the ones who had never been outside the safety of the city. Everyone had been affected in some way by the rising, had someone die or turn, but if they hadn’t been out there, they didn’t truly understand what the zombies were capable of, what they did to humans. Whether they admitted it or not, they were sheltered in the city.

  Caleb clicked the icon to open his email. He picked dirt out from under his nails as it updated. He glanced at the screen. Seventeen new emails, most of them issues with computers and other tech problems. One caught his eye. The sender’s name was Dr. Maudas, but there wasn’t anything in the subject line. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. They were constantly getting new doctors in, and most of them didn’t have the time to bother with what the email was about. He opened the file. There was nothing but a black box that indicated a video. His first inclination was to delete it, toss it out as spam, but something about it didn’t feel malicious. Maybe the doctor thought it would be easier to make his request verbally instead of trying to type it out. He could deal with that. Some requests he got were incredibly convoluted and confusing, maybe this would help clear things up. He clicked the play button. If it downloaded a virus onto his computer, he could easily fix it. It was better to take the chance than get in trouble for not answering emails he was supposed to answer.

  The screen was black, but footsteps could be heard, followed by a low moaning. The camera jostled for a few seconds before the picture appeared. The shot focused on his apartment building. It was late, most of the lights were off. The lens zoomed onto his apartment. Light from the TV flickered in the window, the curtains fluttered in the breeze. The shot pulled back and focused on the street.

  Samuel leaned over Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb’s stomach knotted.

  A single woman came into view. Rachel. Her scrubs were wrinkled from the night’s shift. Her feet dragged across the asphalt, and her mouth gaped in a yawn. Her gaze focused on her feet. She didn’t notice the person with the camera in front of her until she almost ran into them.

  A lump developed in Caleb’s throat. The conversation he had with the police officer ran through his mind. The urge to shut the video off coursed through him, but he couldn’t get his fingers to obey his commands. His eyes wouldn’t shut. His chest tightened, sweat beaded on his skin.

  “Excuse me,” she said softly. She stared in confusion. “What are you doing out here this time of night?”

  “We’re creating something,” a disembodied voice explained. It was quiet, but it was distinctly male.

  “Like a documentary?”

  “Sort of.”

  Something shuffled behind her. She looked abruptly over her shoulder. Fear covered her face as she turned back to the camera.

  “Well, you guys have fun. I hope it works out for you.”

  She tried to quicken her pace, but the cameraman stepped in her way.

  “What’s the rush? You’re the star of this film.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I’m tired. I just want to go home.”

  A clunk sounded off camera like something large and heavy jumped onto the top of a dumpster. Rachel froze. Her hands gripped her collar.

  “I really must insist you stay.”

  Three creatures lurched out of the shadows, their arms were outstretched, their mouths snapping open and shut. Zombies. They headed straight for Rachel. She screamed and tried to run, but something just off camera stood in her way.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please!”

  The zombies grabbed her. One of them sunk its teeth into her forearm. She screamed again. The second bit her throat, turning her scream into a gargle, and the third tore off her cheek. Blood flowed from her wounds, and she slowly sank to the pavement. Tears streamed down her face, and she gasped for breath. Her eyes fluttered, her stare went blank. The creatures tore through her flesh, pulling out her internal organs and consuming them. Spatters of blood flecked the camera lens, and someone chuckled—a low, maniacal sound.

  “This is just the beginning, Caleb,” the disembodied voice said. “If you don’t give us what we want, you’ll be next.”

  The screen went blank.

  Caleb stared at his computer. His mouth was open, and he sucked in shallow, quick breaths. Darkness threatened the corners of his vision. Why hadn’t he turned away? The image of Rachel would forever be burned into his mind’s eye. Along with all the others he had seen get torn apart by the undead.

  Samuel slid his chair forward to get a better view. “Oh, my God! Did you see that?” He reached for the mouse to replay the video.

  Caleb stopped him by slapping his hand and throwing him a dirty look. “You will not replay that.” He glared at Samuel. How could he possibly want to watch that again?

  “But I saw something. It looked like an RBZ.”

  “RBZs don’t exist.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m calling the police. Don’t touch anything.”

  Caleb picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. After explaining to the dispatcher about the video and having her reassure him an officer would be there immediately, he hung up the phone. His hands shook. What he saw on the computer wasn’t any worse than what he had experienced in real life. He didn’t know Rachel as well as he had known some other people he’d seen get torn apart, but it was more than just the death. The sicko who made the video was targeting him. They knew where Caleb lived. They had been following him. For how long? The thoughts made his stomach knot and sweat bead on his forehead.

  Samuel still hovered by Caleb’s desk, his eyes darting from the computer screen to Caleb’s face. “It was a mistake to get them involved. This is never going to get solved.”

  The irritation Caleb felt earlier returned tenfold. “They were already involved. Remember? They were investigating the murder when I came to work.”
He pointed at the computer. “This may help them figure out who did it.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Caleb tried to keep the irritation out of his tone.

  “They know who you are. Why are they coming after you?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You may never know. Let me take this video to my friends. They’ll find the answers you need. All the cops will do is bury it.”

  Caleb shook his head. “No. Rachel deserves justice. I doubt your friends can give her that.”

  Sympathy crossed Samuel’s face. “You knew her?”

  Caleb took a deep breath. “Yeah. She lived in my building.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  It was one of those moments Caleb hated. He didn’t want Samuel’s sympathy. He hadn’t known her well. His words weren’t going to bring her back, only make Caleb uncomfortable and feel slightly guilty he hadn’t done more or gotten to know her better.

  Samuel cleared his throat. “Look, I know that poor woman lost her life, but I’m telling you, I saw something else in that video. If you give it to me, I can take it to my friends, and they can analyze it. We’ll figure out who did this when the cops won’t.”

  The anger boiled inside Caleb’s chest. He grabbed the handles of his chair to keep from lashing out at Samuel.

  He spoke between clenched teeth. “I’m going to leave it to the authorities.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the guard that usually sat at the front desk brought a uniformed officer to his desk. Caleb was thankful for the distraction. The officer pulled out his notepad and took a statement. Caleb told him everything that happened since the last time he had seen Rachel. Had it really only been last night? The officer wrote the notes on his pad, not really reacting to what Caleb said. When he was done, the officer looked up at him.

  “Anything else you want to add?”

  Caleb thought for a moment. Was there something else he needed to add? Anything he had missed? Something that would help them crack the case? He ran through the statement he had just given, but nothing immediately came to mind. He shook his head.

  The officer nodded and stepped into Caleb’s cubicle. “I’m going to need you to log off, then I’ll need to take the computer.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Samuel interjected. “You can’t take Zomtech’s property. You have to have permission to do that.”

  The officer turned, holding Samuel in his icy stare. “And you are?”

  “Not under investigation, so I don’t have to give you my name.”

  The officer placed his hands on his hips. “Then, I suggest you go back to your workstation and mind your business. Unless you want to be under investigation.”

  Samuel held his hands up and backed into his station.

  Caleb smiled at how easily the cop was able to put Samuel in his place. Caleb really didn’t care one way or the other if they took his computer, but Samuel was right; Zomtech wasn’t going to be very happy. They were very particular about what information was allowed to go where. They didn’t want anything getting out. For a company that didn’t have anything to hide, that seemed very suspicious, but the truth of the matter was that a lot of the scientists’ studies were only in the early stages. The company didn’t want half-baked ideas getting out into the public and causing unwarranted hope or starting rumors. At least that’s what they told him during the interview.

  He wasn’t about to question the officer, either. He was still a kid and had to obey those above him, and he didn’t doubt someone else told the officer to pick the computer up—it was evidence after all. No sense arguing. Caleb would leave it to the lawyers to argue whether or not the officer was in the right to take the property.

  After the cop had grabbed the tower, he turned to Caleb. “Detective Hale would like to ask you a few questions. Unfortunately, he was still gathering information from the crime scene when your call came in. He would like me to give you a ride down to the station.”

  Caleb nodded. “Okay.” He motioned for the officer to lead the way.

  Caleb sat at the interrogation table, his forehead resting on his hand, sipping at a cup of water. Knots cramped his stomach. Why did he open that email? Who were these people? What did they want from him? Was it going to take another death for them to come forward and tell him what they wanted? He didn’t know how to read minds, and this game was going to really piss him off.

  The door opened and closed. Caleb turned so he could see who had entered without picking his head up. A man with a manila folder approached the table. He set the file down and held out his hand.

  “Detective Hale,” the man said in introduction.

  Caleb lifted his head and shook the detective’s hand. It was clammy. Hale seemed to be about 40 or 50. Caleb was terrible at guessing ages, so it was possible he was way off. The reason he assumed he was older was because of the lines at the corners of his eyes and the flecks of gray in his dark, short hair. Otherwise, Hale seemed to be in great shape. He wore a short-sleeved tan shirt with dark brown pants, and the muscles on his forearms and biceps were well defined. He had a square jaw and a slightly crooked nose. Caleb was intimated by his presence.

  Hale took a seat across from Caleb. “Now, I understand how hard this is for you. But I need you to think. Why would someone send this video to you?”

  Thankfully, his tone wasn’t as harsh as Caleb assumed it would be. Still, he wasn’t ready to relax completely yet.

  Caleb shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  Hale pulled a pen out of his pocket and clicked it. He opened the folder. “Please tell me what you do.”

  “I work at Zomtech. I’m a computer technician.”

  “Do you have any access to the subjects or direct contact with any of the doctors?”

  “The only contact I have is in a professional capacity. I answer their technical questions and try to write programs that make their jobs easier. Most of the time that happens through email. Rarely, they will approach me in the cafeteria and ask me personally to help them with something.”

  Caleb wrapped his hands around the glass of water. “I also live with Dr. Bentley, who works at Zomtech, but we never talk about what he does at work.”

  The detective folded his hands on the desk. “Have you ever snuck onto any of the floors where the creatures are kept? Just for fun or out of curiosity?”

  Caleb grimaced. “No. Protocol at Zomtech keeps everyone in their own areas. It would be impossible for me to get onto another floor without being detected. And I have no desire to go up there anyway. I’ve had more than enough contact with the creatures.”

  Caleb snapped his mouth shut. Heat crept into his cheeks. He really hoped the detective didn’t have any follow-up questions asking what Caleb meant. There was no way he could talk about it.

  Hale scribbled down some notes. “Have you recently accessed any classified information about any of the subjects?”

  Caleb shook his head. “No. Again, there are protocols in place that make it impossible for me to access information above my pay grade.”

  Hale clicked his pen a few times. “But you wrote all of those programs that the scientists use. You could very easily leave yourself a back door to get in and out undetected, should you really want to. You’re a tech guy at a large corporation that deals with sensitive and controversial matters. It’s possible you accessed something someone didn’t want you to see. Maybe saw something, and now they are blackmailing you. I’m not saying it was done on purpose. Perhaps it was an accident.”

  He watched Caleb closely.

  Caleb knew exactly what the detective was doing. He was trying to get Caleb to give something up. If he was guilty of harvesting information, Hale was trying to wrench it out of him. Even if Caleb had been doing what Hale was suggesting he had been doing, Caleb had enough training to keep a straight face and feign innocence. He’d been in the face of death numerous times, watched his friends and family die, killed countless undead
. He knew how to remain calm in stressful situations.

  But he had nothing to stress about. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t take offense to Hale’s line of questioning. The man was simply doing his job, gathering the facts. He didn’t know Caleb, he had no idea what he was capable of. In Hale’s line of work, it paid to be cautious and suspicious of everyone. It guaranteed he would go home at night.

  Caleb leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Hale held his hands out to his sides. “I’m going to assume you’re right. I’ve read your psych file. You’ve seen a lot of horrific things. What about Dr. Bentley? Did he mention anything? Maybe at home over dinner?”

  Caleb’s gaze dropped to his lap. Anger and embarrassment flooded through him. He shouldn’t have been surprised the detective looked at his file. His psychologist said the authorities and certain administrators at Zomtech could access it anytime they wanted. It hadn’t bothered Caleb then. He didn’t think there was anything in his past others would find interesting. He was a nobody. He did what he had to do to survive—just like everyone else. But now he felt exposed, vulnerable, and he hated it.

  “Caleb, I understand how difficult this is.” Hale’s tone was low. “No one wants to be the target of terrorists, especially when they don’t know why they are being targeted.”