Finding Humanity: Book 3 in the Saving Humanity Series

CHAPTER 11

*

Caleb stood in darkness. Footsteps sounded all around him, broken up occasionally by a grunt or a snort. Sweat beaded his skin, his throat was dry and scratchy. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he inhaled and exhaled rapid breaths. His heart thudded against his ribcage. The sounds drew closer, seeming to echo right behind him, but Caleb refused to turn. He didn't want to look upon the fate that awaited him.

A breeze moved the hair on the back of his head and sent goosebumps down his back. He hunched his shoulders forward, trying to fold in on himself. Still, he refused to turn around. The breeze touched him again. He bit his bottom lip and hunched further. Fingers gently brushed his shoulder. He jerked to get away from the touch, but the hand grabbed him and spun him around violently. Caleb closed his eyes, unwilling to see what stood behind him.

"You can't hide," a voice whispered. "Pretending the past isn't there won't make it go away."

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and balled his hands into fists. Coldness penetrated his eyelids, applying pressure, trying to peel them open. He tried to pull his head away and shake off the sensation, but the breeze kept him from moving. The cold pierced deep into his flesh, causing the muscles in his lids to ache. He imagined ice had formed on his lashes. A crack appeared between the lids, letting in a small amount of light. Again, Caleb tried to get away. Again, he was unsuccessful.

The crack grew wider, the cold invaded further. A scream rose in his throat. Before it could escape, his eyes were pried open and his gaze fell on a crowd of people before him. He blinked, assuming they would disappear as he cleared his vision. When they didn't, he focused his gaze and took in their features. The cold dissipated. Instantly, he recognized his mom and dad—along with Nina. He saw Len and Payton, in addition to numerous other survivors he'd been on the run with after the zombie uprising.

His chest tightened. His breathing slowed and came in long, raspy draws. The urge to turn away consumed him, but his body wouldn't obey. The crowd stared back at him, but they didn't seem to see him. A milky film covered their eyes, but their flesh hadn't yet rotted. Not that it mattered. They wouldn't attack Caleb. They thought he was one of them. His breath caught as the thought ran through his head,

"Don't pretend to be something you're not," the voice whispered. "Don't get hung up on being human when you're so much more."

As if connected by a string, all of the people in front of Caleb lifted their arms straight out in front of their bodies. Their heads turned so they appeared to be completely focused on him, then they stepped forward. Caleb's heart leapt into his throat, and his body found its ability to move again. He stepped backward and ran into something solid. The crowd moved forward. A few more steps and they'd be on him. He watched as their fingertips gently touched his flesh, then the hands wrapped around his arms, neck, and back. They pulled him forward and surrounded him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain of biting teeth, and the slurp of his flesh being consumed. Instead, the group wrapped him in a hug and held him tight.

"Don't forget how you got here."

*

Caleb bolted upright in bed. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and arms. Drops ran down his spine. He inhaled a shaky breath. The weight and warmth from the crowd in his dream lingered on his flesh and shoulders. The voice echoed through his brain. He turned his gaze toward the ceiling. If he'd expected an answer to be up there, he was wrong. There was only dull gray concrete. He averted his gaze to his lap and drew in steady, even breaths through his nose. The weight and heat lifted from his shoulders, but sadness and guilt settled into his mind. With a frown, he got out of bed and headed outside.