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

by Sinclair, Pembroke

  Caleb’s heart thudded against his ribs. This definitely was not how he expected any of this to go. What had he expected? Simplicity. He just wanted to get into Zomtech, get the information, then get out. The assumption that would happen was naïve. His life up to this point had been far from easy. He sighed. He really should have thought this out more.

  Stepping toward the door, Caleb stared at Hale as he walked by, hoping to read the intentions in his eyes. He continued to stare until it was physically impossible to look any longer. There was nothing there. Just the same sadness and disappointment that had been there from the beginning of the conversation. Caleb wished he knew what the look meant. He pulled open the apartment door with force. The fear and worry was slowly transforming into anger and frustration.

  His mind drifted to his time outside the city, when every day was a struggle to survive, to avoid the gnashing teeth of the zombies. Life had been tough, full of heartache and sadness, but at least he knew what to expect. The enemy was apparent, he knew who was on his side. It was treacherous but simple.

  Shaking his head, he pulled himself back into the present moment. As he stepped into the hall, he noticed the three uniformed officers. He scoffed. Going with Detective Hale was even less of a choice than he thought. Had he shown any resistance or tried to run, these three were there to ensure compliance. It must have been an officer he saw on the fire escape. That made the most sense. An RBZ was too conspicuous. They would be crazy to bring one with them. Caleb stepped into the hall and headed for the stairs. So much for figuring out an escape once he was outside the apartment.

  Caleb half-expected there to be more officers waiting for him outside, but there wasn’t. As soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk, Hale placed a hand on Caleb’s elbow in a nonthreatening manner, but Caleb knew what Hale was doing. He wanted to be close in case Caleb decided to run. He wanted Caleb to know there was nowhere to go.

  Caleb’s gaze drifted across the street to the alley where Rachel’s body had been found. He thought about the day when the area had been blocked off, and the cop told him what had happened. He thought about that video. The look of fear on Rachel’s face. His nausea increased.

  Something moved in the shadows of the alley. Caleb’s breath caught, and his heart skipped a beat. The shape was roughly human, but it was several times larger than a normal one. It moved closer to the wall, but stay concealed in darkness. Maybe he was wrong about them bringing an RBZ.

  “We’ll take my car. It’s right here.”

  Caleb barely heard the detective’s voice, and he refused to pull his gaze from the alley. As he continued to stare, a hand wrapped around the corner of the building. The fingers were thick and pale. They reminded Caleb of raw turkey legs with the skin still attached. Black rot circled the knuckles and nail beds. As quickly as the appendages appeared, they disappeared back into darkness.

  Hale removed his hand from Caleb’s elbow. Caleb didn’t hesitate. He took off down the street as fast as he could. He wasn’t going to face one of those things again. His heart thumped in his ears, his breath came in pants. He heard yelling behind him, but he didn’t turn to see what was going on. At any moment, he expected to be tackled to the ground, and that drove his legs to move faster. He heard footsteps behind him, along with the clink of keys on the officers’ utility belts. It sounded like they were only a few steps behind him. He wasn’t going to make it. The officers were trained for this type of thing. They were in better shape than he was. They hadn’t suffered being bitten by a zombie and the fever that kept him bedridden for days. The only thing he had they didn’t know about was determination—he hoped.

  Run! Keep going. Don’t stop now!

  His legs moved and sprinted down the sidewalk. He had to lose his pursuers. He had to get away. It would have been easy to do if he turned down an alley, but the thought of what was probably waiting for him down there kept him on the streets.

  Fingers raked down his neck and attempted to grab his collar. Caleb risked a glance over his shoulder. It was an officer. He had leaned forward to make his grab, and in the process, lost his balance. His steps faltered, and he had to slow down to regain his footing or risk falling on his face. Caleb pushed for another burst of speed. The other officers and Hale were only a few steps behind the first cop.

  That decided it for Caleb. He had to risk an alley. He turned at his next opportunity and ran into darkness. He slowed his pace slightly to take in his surroundings. There were two doors on each side of the alley that more than likely led into apartment buildings. Caleb was sure they were locked, so he wasn’t even going to try. Several dumpsters were evenly spaced down the length of the alley, and he could see the street on the other side. It was his only option. Once there, he could figure out where else to run.

  He picked up his pace. As he passed the dumpsters, he grabbed them and pulled them behind him. It slowed his pace considerably, but they also glided into the alley and blocked his pursuers’ path. It wasn’t much, but it helped. The footsteps of his pursuers echoed in the confines of the narrow space, along with the grunts as they moved the dumpsters out of the way. They sounded close. He was almost to the end of the alley when a loud metal clang resounded. It sounded like something large and heavy landed on the dumpster right behind him. Against Caleb’s better judgement, he looked over his shoulder.

  The RBZ crouched on the top of the dumpster, the lid bowed under his weight. His lips curled into a snarl before it launched from his perch. The dumpster rolled backward, almost running into the officers. They had to stop and change direction to keep from being hit. That would have made Caleb happy if a giant zombie wasn’t right on his tail. The snarl turned into a growl, the creature pounded toward him—the thud of footsteps filled Caleb with dread. He was convinced if zombies breathed, he would feel the creature’s breath on his neck. He squeaked and pushed forward, but he was sure it was in vain.

  Caleb burst out of the alley onto the street. He glanced to his right and left, unsure which way to go. It didn’t matter. He had to keep going. The RBZ wasn’t going to stop. It wasn’t like the humans; he wouldn’t get tired. The RBZ would continue to pursue him until Caleb fell over from exhaustion. Caleb turned to his right and sprinted. He would have given anything for the streets to be crowded with people. Surely that would have stopped the ridiculously large zombie. Then again, they were the reason the streets were deserted. The zombies had destroyed the population.

  Caleb still had no idea where he was going. The loud thumps of heavy footsteps and grunts sounded behind him. His legs ached and his lungs burned, but he couldn’t stop. The end of the block was approaching. Caleb decided to go left. As his gaze drifted in that direction, it fell on a Jeep. No, it was impossible. But the similarities were too uncanny. It looked exactly like the one he and Samuel brought back from the desert. He headed for it.

  Please be the same one. Please.

  He headed for the back tire where the keys were supposed to be. Reaching under the wheel well, he felt the cool metal. Yes! He hurried to the door and unlocked it. After slamming it shut, he shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life. Caleb looked out the windshield and watched the RBZ slam both fists into the hood. The back tires lifted off the ground, and Caleb slammed the vehicle into reverse and squealed the tires as he mashed his foot onto the gas pedal. Thank goodness for front-wheel drive! The Jeep pulled away from the RBZ and the other pursuers, but Caleb felt anything but safe.

  CHAPTER 11

  Caleb spun the Jeep around and put it in drive. He watched his pursuers shrink and then fade from sight in the rearview mirror. He was far from safe. It would only be a matter of minutes before every cop in the city was looking for him. He had to get out of town.

  He slammed his hand into the steering wheel. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Leaving the city totally defeated the purpose of him coming back to find answers. Granted, his original plan didn’t take into consideration something like this would happen. He assumed the people who were after
him might come find him, but he didn’t expect them to have an army or ties to the local authorities. Caleb wasn’t really sure what he had expected. He just knew he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t change what had happened, he could only try to change the situation to his advantage. The first thing he had to do was get somewhere safe so he could regroup and let the heat die down.

  He turned the Jeep down a road that led to the edge of the city and floored it. It wouldn’t be long before they set up road blocks and checkpoints to keep him from escaping. He tightened his grip on the wheel. His heart fluttered in his chest. Please don’t let it be too late. Please let me get out of town.

  Once you do, keep running.

  The thought wasn’t without its merits. There were probably some advantages to being on the move—the most prominent in his mind at the moment was not being chased—but there were disadvantages as well. The biggest being that he didn’t want to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life—either for the living or the undead. He also didn’t want to have to scrounge to survive, either. If he could improve the world, he preferred to do that instead of running and hiding.

  Through the windshield, he saw the bright orange sun that indicated the edge of the city. He was close—really close. Just as he suspected, a cop was setting up a roadblock, but he must have just gotten there because he was scrambling to get the barrier together. Caleb had time. He didn’t ease off the accelerator as he plowed forward. The cop stepped in front of him and waved his arms. I hope he moves. Caleb didn’t particularly want to kill anyone, but he was going to do what was necessary to get to safety.

  The cop realized Caleb wasn’t going to stop and leapt out of the way. Caleb smashed through the half-constructed barriers and swerved to sideswipe the patrol car. The screech of metal on metal echoed through the Jeep, and Caleb was bounced against the door. The Jeep tried to lose control, but Caleb tightened his grip and righted the vehicle. He hit the police cruiser a bit harder than he expected. He was sure it was enough to keep the cop from following him, but he hoped he didn’t do too much damage to his vehicle. He strained his ears to hear if there were any squeaking or scraping sounds and watched the hood for smoke. He sniffed a few times to smell if anything was overheating. Nothing. He was okay—for the moment.

  He floored the gas pedal again and sped toward the edge of the city. There was nothing in his way now. The thought didn’t comfort him. It actually made his palms sweat and heat pulse through his body. He would leave, but only long enough to figure out a new plan, then he would be back. Maybe he needed help. He could always ask Samuel. More than likely, he would help, as long as Caleb allowed his conspiracy theory friends to assist. At this point, Caleb would take it. However, there was also the possibility Samuel wouldn’t help him. He hadn’t wanted Caleb to come back to the city. Samuel seemed pretty upset when they left Matt’s bunker and he dropped Caleb off. Not that it really mattered at the moment. Caleb had no way of contacting Samuel.

  He could head back to Matt’s stronghold. Matt said he was always welcome there. Caleb didn’t doubt that he would help. But how exactly would he assist? Caleb didn’t think he could trust Matt. He kept too many secrets.

  Caleb slammed his hand into the steering wheel again. Why was this happening to him? It was one thing to be isolated and alone because zombies devoured his friends and family, but it was completely different to be an outcast because he could save humanity. It didn’t make any sense. He hated not being able to trust anyone. That wasn’t healthy. Then again, he’d been through, and seen, a lot to totally mess up his brain. It was one more thing he could thank the undead for. Why did they even exist? Who thought he could handle being special? The universe was a really messed up place. It had only been six months ago when he could barely save himself when he was forced to stay at the hospital, and now he was going to be expected to save humanity. It wasn’t that simple. Oh, no. That would be asking way too much. The world had to be cruel and make him a pawn in someone’s power struggle. Hadn’t he already been through enough?

  Complaining wasn’t going to change anything. This was where he was at. He had to deal. Directing his gaze back out the windshield, he realized he had left the city in a different area from where he and Samuel had entered. The vast expanse of open desert wasn’t in front of him. Well, that decided for him heading to Matt’s was out of the question. Being on the road meant risking being caught. The Jeep was pretty conspicuous. He was driving into one of the suburbs. And from the looks of it, it was the suburb that housed the regulars’ ghetto.

  His foot eased off the gas pedal slightly. How smart was it to leave one form of danger and speed right into another? But at the same time, he had to get away from the city—but not too far. He was going back at some point. This might just work out to his advantage. Anyone who followed him would be just as stupid as he was—perhaps more so. Caleb had the upper hand out here. He was immune to being turned into a zombie. He could withstand getting bitten.

  Unless they eat you.

  Caleb shuddered at the thought. Visions of his nightmare ran through his mind. He felt the heat of undead bodies on him, smelled the tang of blood. His father’s pale face drifted into view. His lifeless eyes stared at Caleb accusingly. Caleb’s stomach lurched. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he shook the images from his head. The last thing he wanted to do was be around those things again. If the situation were different, he wouldn’t even entertain the idea. But he was desperate. And—on the plus side—he knew he could fight and win against the zombies. He’d done it before. The humans were a different story. He didn’t really want to fight or kill any of them. He would if there were no other choices, but hadn’t the world seen enough death and destruction without him adding to it?

  Taking a shaky breath, he turned right and headed into a neighborhood. The walls of the ghetto were visible in the distance. They sat on top of a hill that overlooked the houses he was driving by. There were still a good ten blocks before he reached them, but driving the Jeep right up to the gates would tip his hand to his pursuers. That would make things too easy and could possibly lead to his capture. Being stealthy and tricky were his only chances. If he left the Jeep somewhere in the neighborhood, they would think he was hiding out there, which was part of the plan. He desperately wished it was the whole plan. Even being that close to the ghetto made him uneasy. And it was only going to get worse. He had to get inside the ghetto.

  The area had once been a gated community, so the perimeter walls had already existed. When it had been decided that was the perfect place to contain the undead, the walls and gate were reinforced. The original plan had been to destroy the zombies once they were inside. It would have been like shooting fish in a barrel. The humans could have stood on the wall, well out of harm’s way and shot until every last one of the abominations was put down permanently. Caleb would have loved to have been part of that. But a group of people protested it. They demanded everything in science’s power be done to find a cure. They argued there was still a human behind those milky eyes and snapping jaws—they only needed to be coaxed back out. With the creatures contained, they posed no threat. Caleb often referred to these people in his mind as zom-lifers.

  He hadn’t been in the city when all of this was happening—he was still in the wilds of the world trying to survive the undead threat. He heard about all of this during his stay in the hospital. He didn’t believe it at first. They were just made-up stories. When he started working at Zomtech, those stories were confirmed. It was unfathomable those things would be allowed to live. They were dangerous. They were murderers. At the same time, though, he had been impressed the humans had been able to lure them out of the city into a contained area. They had taken back their city—that was a step closer to taking back their world. He could only hope it didn’t turn around and bite them—literally.

  Still, if Caleb didn’t have to go into the zombies’ domain, he wouldn’t. Aside from the obvious, he’d be around the living dead and could po
ssibly get killed, the ghetto was under surveillance. From what he’d heard it was only with video equipment, but that was enough to give away his position and plan. It had been discovered early on without humans present, zombies went into a catatonic state. They needed the presence of prey around to whip them into a frenzy. This made it risky for Caleb to go into their world. He would be vastly outnumbered. However, Caleb knew from experience he could remain undetected if he stayed quiet—and hidden. The creatures seemed to be drawn to sound and movement. He’d survived that way before, he was sure he could do it again.

  The other reason the ghetto played such a huge role in his plans was because of the round ups that occurred. He’d heard at Zomtech specimens were taken from the ghetto to be experimented on. It wasn’t supposed to be true. The zom-lifers would probably throw a fit if it were, and Caleb was always hesitant to believe it, but now his ability to get back into the city undetected rested on that rumor being true. Had he been more curious and reckless, he would have hacked into the scientists’ files to find out what they were doing, but back then he didn’t care. And he had absolutely no idea that information would be needed to save his life.

  Caleb pulled the Jeep up next to a curb and took in his surroundings. At one time, the neighborhood had probably housed middle-class families that kept their lawns nicely manicured, and kids played with dogs in the backyard. Neighbors probably waved to each other and told one another to have a great day. It had been the idyllic neighborhood. Now, the lawns were brown and crunchy. There were no people to wave at one another—no kids, no pets. The houses were falling down. Fires had taken out several homes down the street, and the stench of burnt wood and chemicals hung faintly in the air. Silence pervaded.

  Caleb shut off the Jeep and stepped onto the street. It was close to midday; the sun was blazing overhead. Standing on the street made him incredibly conspicuous. He needed to find a hiding place immediately. There were several to choose from, then he would hunker down and wait for darkness to head to the ghetto.