Edge of Humanity: Book 2 in the Saving Humanity Series

CHAPTER 4

Caleb pressed his hands against the tiles of the shower and leaned forward. The water hit the back of his head and between his shoulder blades. He hoped the heat would relieve some of the tension. It didn't. Nausea continued to grip his stomach, snippets of the nightmare clung to his mind. He'd been to the warehouse in real life, and those people from his dream had been with him. The only difference was there hadn't been an RBZ. There didn't need to be. The regulars had been enough.

Caleb shook the memory from his mind. Rivers of water traveled over his head and down the sides of his face. He would have given anything for them to wipe his mind clear. He was tired of living with the memories, the guilt, and the fear. Now, he was in even worse shape. A pawn being moved and manipulated into an unknown future. It was bad enough to watch people he knew get torn apart or changed, but it was just as bad to know he might be able to save the rest of the world. All he had to give up was his freedom to do so. Of course, there was always the possibility he couldn't help anyone else. Was all of this going to be in vain? Caleb barely knew how he fit into the world before his immunity; things weren't much different now.

And you're too weak to change it or do anything about it.

He balled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. A flash of anger coursed through him, but it dissipated as fast as it had manifested. The voice in the darkness was right. He was weak. He always had been. That's why he couldn't save anyone—why he couldn't kill himself. He was more than weak. He was a failure. The only option left was to let Samuel and his group do what they were going to do to him. The thought wasn't exactly comforting, but it relieved him of the burden of continuing to bumble through life. He was tired. The fight had left him a long time ago. A few of the knots in his shoulders lessened. He didn't know what purpose he served or what his place in the universe was, but he was closer to finding answers—whether good or bad. The idea of his immunity brought him a small amount of comfort, and so did the knowledge he didn't have to keep running. It wasn't much, but after what he'd been through, it was enough.

Caleb raised his head and stared at the tiles in front of him. They were varying shades of tan with gold veins running across the surface. The grout between was a light gray, flecked with a few areas black with mildew. Water bounced off the top of his head to bead on the surface, then it ran down to the tub in quick rivers. His mind drifted back to his dream, then to the memory.

The bathroom in the warehouse had white tile, but it had faded to gray and was streaked with dust. It had been a mistake to run in there. There was only one way in and out, but it was the only place he could go to get away from the rotting flesh surrounding him. Payton, one of the other survivors with Caleb at the warehouse, shouldn't have followed him. If Caleb had known at the time he had, he would have made him turn back. Or at least helped him close the door better.

Caleb continued to stare at the rivers of water in the shower, and they transformed in front of his eyes from clear into red-black and thickened. Payton barely had time to scream before the teeth sunk into his flesh. It was more a grunt of surprise and pain. A sound was what made Caleb realize he wasn't alone.

* * * *

He had just entered the last stall in the bathroom and closed and locked the door softly. He cursed himself in his mind for being in there, for not paying attention to where the others were, but there hadn't been time. For slow-moving creatures, the zombies attacked unexpectedly and fast. The plan was to hide until the threat passed, then he'd regroup with the others. It wasn't the first time they'd been separated, so he knew they'd wait for him. He lifted his foot to step onto the toilet when the grunt echoed through the room, followed by a thud and slapping sound. For half a second, Caleb thought about ignoring what was happening, but his conscience wouldn't let him.