Inhuman [Book 1] Read online

  The harsh truth crept back. My anger had temporarily distracted me from the fact that I was partially at fault... If I had just listened to Jim and given him everything we had without putting up a fight they’d probably still be alive.

  If I didn’t panic and try to grab the gun.

  If I didn’t force a situation that made me fire toward the hallway…

  Did my anger and irrational state of mind get them killed?

  I snapped aloud to myself – jerking my head to the side, “No! You couldn’t have trusted him after he turned on you like that!” There was a deafening conversation taking place in my mind.

  Was it my fault?

  Or was it his for putting us in the situation?

  Could I really have trusted him?

  As I began to really think about it, I couldn’t help but believe that Jim never would have actually hurt us… I saw the regret on his face.

  Is this just as much my fault as his?

  Why did Jessica leave the room and come out in the hallway?

  Why would she do that?

  Why?

  Countless questions invaded my thoughts – then a feeling which I feared was the onset of insanity.

  My watery eyes drifted to the Walther lying a few feet away, just where I left it. When I picked it up, I found that my hand was shaking uncontrollably again. It got the point where the lettering “PPQ” etched on the side became a blur and strained my vision.

  After a quick glance down the hallway, I slowly walked across the house and into the backyard.

  The light giving the bluish-gray mountains in the distance a golden hue gained my attention – a single bird called out as the wind swayed the trees. I closed my eyes and listened to the rustle of the leaves as I brought the Walther to the side of my head.

  Another wave of tears made me begin choking on my own spit. My hand grew weak and the chilled steel left the side of my head. I fell to my knees and buried my face in the grass – crying uncontrollably.

  The idea that they were dead because Jim betrayed us over a few days-worth of food and my gun still seemed too outlandish to be real. I asked myself over and over how he could have caused it for so little... We’d been looking out for each other since the very beginning… Then I realized that I was asking myself the wrong questions. What I really needed to ask myself was how I could have been stupid enough to enable it.

  I’d been so worried about everyone else hurting us that I knowingly, foolishly let a person I’d known less than a year into my life and my home during a time of desperation – a stranger – during a situation that easily turns once good men into the very definition of inhuman.

  At that moment, I decided that none of the other details mattered.

  I let this happen.

  This is entirely my fault…

  I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the clouds as they seemingly raced across the sky – still feeling the urge to bring the gun back up to my head. My breathing started to calm and I could once again hear the sound of the wind sweeping through the trees. I thought about the day Jessica and I met, when we got married and the morning we brought Sophia home from the hospital. It was like a series of old home movies playing out in my mind.

  Whatever it was, I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want to come back to reality – because in reality, they were both dead and I was all alone.

  I was responsible.

  Day 44

  In spite of the fact that I wasn’t a religious man, I fashioned crosses to put at the heads of their graves. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

  Jessica’s favorite necklace hung from one, glistening as the morning sun began to appear over the roofline. A pair of Sophia’s shoes dangled from the other. The laces gently swayed from side to side each time the wind surged and dropped. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to wear them yet.

  I recalled the day we got them for her. We’d taken her to pick out her own shoes for the first time and she fell in love with a pair that was too big for her – purple with little butterflies. When Sophia found out, she was so crushed.

  I vividly remembered leaning down, saying, “Don’t worry, we’ll get these too, and once you grow a little more you’ll be able to wear them” and watching her sadness immediately turn to joy.

  Fixating on them eventually caused me to recall a story my father told that had always stayed with me. He claimed Ernest Hemingway once took a wager – that he could write a moving or tragic story in only six words. Supposedly, he responded with, “For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”

  Only then did I realize just how powerful those six words were…

  It was so strange, the way life could drastically and shockingly change in just a few minutes. I went from having a wife, a daughter and a good friend – all helping each other survive – to nothing. I was sitting in front of a fire, struggling to keep warm and looking at my family’s freshly dug graves in my own backyard. The body of the man who used to be my friend was lying disfigured in the living room.

  I wasn’t going to bury Jim. I didn’t want to look at him or think about him. I didn’t even want to go back inside my own home. It was why I hadn’t set foot back inside since I buried them. It’s why I spent the night by the fire – even though it was incredibly dangerous and stupid.

  I remember thinking to myself before I finally drifted away last night – You didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger, maybe someone else will and you just won’t wake up.

  And the moment I regained conscious thought, I was immensely disappointed that someone didn’t come along and kill me. I couldn’t help but wonder what the point of my existence was.

  They’re gone.

  The urge to put a bullet in my head was only getting stronger. I kept asking myself – What else is there to do? Even if this all ends. If the power comes back on, the roads are reopened and everything goes back to normal – it doesn’t matter anymore. None of it means anything without them…

  When I stood and stepped away from the fire, the wind kicked up and gave me a chill. I stopped and just glared at what used to be our home as I shivered and clenched my fists. I didn’t see that anymore. I only saw the place where they died. And I didn’t want anything to do with it ever again.

  My thoughts went back to what Jim said before I killed him. It was the reason he betrayed us – because there was nothing to be gained by staying other than inevitable starvation or death by someone else’s hands.

  I wondered about the group of people who decided to leave... They never came back. Does it mean they found something, or that they were killed?

  Maybe if we had gone with them I would have woken up to Jessica and Sophia in a warm bed this morning.

  None of it would have happened. I wouldn’t have had to kill that man in the woods and I never would have walked in Hank’s kitchen. They’d still be alive and I’d be the same man I was before this started…

  I had no idea what I was anymore. All I knew is that I longer felt “human”.

  As I glanced over at Jim’s house, the want to leave became even more pressing. And it wasn’t just because I’d starve if I didn’t – it was because I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t wake up every day and see their graves or the house of the man who caused their deaths. I never wanted to see any of it again.

  There was nothing left that hadn’t been tainted by nightmarish events.

  I can’t stay here…

  For whatever reason, I remembered noticing an extremely detailed state map hanging in Jim’s garage. I took a deep breath and headed across the yard.

  I didn’t know the area at all. I only knew how to reach the main road and get to the closest town, which would then allow me to link up with the major highway systems. It was the one way I knew I couldn’t go…

  I got to the back door and placed my hand on the knob. I hated the idea of walking through his home as well, so I almost used it being locked as an excuse not to.

  Since there was a large enough window right n
ext to it, I picked up a patio chair and broke away all the glass. When it shattered I could hear the sounds making their way throughout the entire neighborhood – alerting anyone around to my existence.

  Maybe that’ll get me killed.

  After using the Walther to scrape away all the glass left behind on the sill, I carefully climbed through and into the kitchen. His house was a mess – just like it always was. A deep breath almost made me choke when I took in the odor of rotting dairy products coming from the refrigerator.

  As I made my way through the kitchen and across the living room, I kept expecting him to appear and try to kill me. My whole body tensed up, almost like I could feel his presence.

  Just when I was about to walk through the door into the garage, my ears picked something up – a shuffling of feet.

  Am I going crazy? Am I just so upset and paranoid that I created the sounds in my head?

  I recognized the fact that I was walking through a house terrified that a dead man was going to jump out and kill me… can I trust myself right now?

  I pressed my ear up against the door and listened... Nothing… Still nothing.

  I closed my eyes and took a series of deep breaths… Apparently it was just me, losing my mind.

  My eyes were still shut when I heard the doorknob turn and the faint squeal of the hinges.

  When I opened them, there was a man standing less than two feet in front of me. We both froze and stared at each other like two wolves, right before they fought to the death.

  He began to back up and reach in his jacket, but then stumbled over his own feet. As he fell, I took out my gun, leaped forward, pushed him the rest of the way down and then put my foot on his chest – pinning him to the floor.

  He waved his hands around, saying, “Please, please, I’m not armed! I was just looking for food! I’ll never come back around here again, I swear! Please, I thought everyone was gone!”

  I didn’t feel my finger squeeze the trigger, but I heard the shot. For a few moments, I genuinely believed that someone else had fired at me – I frantically raised my gun and spun around the room, only to see my own distorted reflection in a large, stainless steel storage freezer.

  I looked down, saw the blood and realized that he’d become completely still and quiet. And that I was the one who did it.

  After actually taking a good look at him, I lifted my foot off of his chest and took three long steps backward.

  He’s just a kid.

  I wasn’t just angry with myself for not noticing – I was also afraid. He didn’t even look eighteen yet. His band t-shirt, light acne and thinly scattered facial hair told me that was probably still in high school.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I… I didn’t have to do that.

  Now I’m responsible for the deaths of two children...

  As I studied the small hole just above his right eye and the blood running down his face, I felt the urge to end my life again.

  How could I have done that?

  I shook my head and began explaining away my actions – When I was his age I could nail a soda can with a rifle from several hundred yards. When guns come into play, size, strength… age… means nothing. He could have killed me just as easily as I killed him.

  I kneeled down and started searching him, hoping to prove myself right… Was I defending myself? Or did I needlessly murder a kid?

  His left inner jacket pocket held exactly what I wanted (needed) it to – the unmistakable weight of a gun. I reached in and pulled out an old, snub nose revolver, hit the release and popped out the cylinder.

  One bullet.

  Even if it was full, it’s basically useless.

  I dropped it beside him and continued to look through his pockets. I found two knives, some cash, a bunch of jewelry and three packs of cigarettes. One of the knives had dried blood in the teeth of the blade and all over the handle.

  I had no way of knowing whether he found everything in abandoned homes or killed people and stole it. The blood could just as easily have been from an animal he killed and cleaned. I had no way of knowing.

  Though I’m sure I saw him reaching for that gun.

  What I did know was that Jim taught me a valuable lesson – I can’t ever give anyone the benefit of the doubt again. My only friend turned on me before things even got truly desperate. He showed me that until this is all over I can’t trust anyone. Not even for a moment.

  As I stood there trying to convince myself that he wasn’t just an innocent boy who was probably scared out of his mind, I expected to start thinking about killing myself again. Instead, I entertained the idea that he was just playing innocent to win my trust so he could betray me once I relaxed my guard.

  He was reaching in his jacket.

  But who wouldn’t?

  Or… he could be part of the group of men who attacked the neighborhood and started shooting everyone. I never got a very good look at any of them, but I could tell by their voices and behavior that some of them were young – maybe even as young as he is.

  I started to understand that shooting him was the “right” choice. I just couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t guilt ridden and devastated. I wanted to be – I should be. It was just a few moments ago… I wondered what would have happened if he had found me asleep by the fire.

  Wouldn’t that have been poetic? – shot in my sleep next to my family’s graves…

  It was another thing that made me want to leave as soon as possible, so I walked over to the wall and ripped the map down. Then I spotted his tool box off to the side – that’s where he keeps the bullets.

  Fuck.

  I have to go back in and get both the rifles…

  I soon noticed a specific section of the Trinity National Forest circled in red marker. According to the map, the area was just under fifty miles away and I could reach it without going anywhere near main roads. Most likely, I’d just have to go out of my way every now and then to avoid some minuscule towns or sparse collections of homes that don’t even qualify as ones.

  I could only assume he saw it as the best option for having a steady supply of food and avoiding people. The lands were protected so they hadn’t been over hunted like our area. And to my knowledge, there were no stores bigger than a small apartment anywhere nearby. So if the roads were still blocked, and I assumed they were, finding decent hunting grounds was my only choice. I was literally stuck in the middle of nowhere.

  The map showed a very small town several days southwest, though the way it was presented made it seem like a town that was somewhat developed. It had more than a few roads leading to and from it, which had to at least mean it had more than just homes like my area.

  After a little consideration, I decided that I’d check it out from afar. Other than that, my main concern needed to be avoiding any other people for the time being.

  At least until I find out what the hell is going on out there...

  Just the idea of setting foot in my own home made my heart rate increase and my palms sweat. My jaw clenched shut and I gnashed my teeth until it felt like they were about to shatter.

  I have no choice. I have to get all the dried out meat and water we had stored in the kitchen too.

  My emotions were constantly subsiding and then flaring as I shifted from thinking about my survival, and then back to Jessica and Sophia.

  My plan is to go sit alone in the forest… and what – search for the courage to shoot myself?

  I was so hesitant to go back that I almost considered just leaving without the rifles and the little food and water I had left. It was so painful, for a while I actually thought it was worth the risk.

  Eventually, I folded the map and put it in my left coat pocket. Then I took one last look at the boy I’d killed – I thought about burying him. I tried to make myself care enough to do it, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t care about anything. Everything that mattered died in the house next door...

  When I stepped back outside, I could feel the
slight warmth of the sun. Once I reached the back door, I put my hand on the nob and pressed my head against it. I took a minute to breathe in the cold air deeply through my nose while imagining that I was in another place, in another time. They were somewhere else – waiting for me.

  I tried to think about how the days would soon be crisp and perfectly beautiful. It meant that by the time I made it to that section of the National Forest, everything would be coming back to life. Large game wouldn’t be so scarce.

  Stop distracting yourself. Open the fucking door and do what you need to do, or end it all right now…

  I somehow managed not to stare at Jim’s body, and I had no intention of going near the hallway either. I just quickly snatched a black duffle bag out of the kitchen closet and threw it on the counter. There were three jugs of water left but I’d be going by plenty of lakes and streams so I only packed two. I was growing weaker by the day and I certainly didn’t need the extra weight.

  Something led my gaze to the living room, over by the couches. I was able to produce the near-perfect image of Jessica sitting there reading to Sophia. I even heard the faint sounds of their laughter as Jessica did her best to theatrically read out the story in different voices so it would come to life.

  She was the perfect mother.

  My breathing became short and sharp, and my eyes filled with tears yet again. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to keep seeing them, or turn away and make the image disappear.

  I violently shook my head in the attempt to rid myself of the rush of emotion as I tightly grasped the edge of the counter – not stopping until I felt one of the border tiles starting to break loose.

  I gotta get the fuck out of here.

  After mustering what little composure I could, I gathered the dried out meat from the cabinet above the refrigerator. While roughly shoving it into the duffle bag, I remembered two specific things that instantly paralyzed me – not only did I have to retrieve the rifles, but the boxes of bullets for my guns were in the upstairs bedroom, and the only way to get up there was to step over Jim and walk right past the hallway where they died. Also, Jim had unloaded my rifle and put all the bullets in his pocket.