The Human Race (Book 1) Read online

  He lifts the bag from the floor and tosses me a green apple and takes a red one for himself. Both of us bite into our meal and the crunch echoes through the shack. Other than the rain beating on the roof, that’s all we can hear. I glance down at our sack of apples and notice we are running low. Enough for maybe another day or two, depending on how we ration them. We’ll need to find more food soon meaning we’ll have to risk going into an abandon building with no lights and teaming with either vamps or zombies. Depending on the situation, that could always be an exciting risk.

  My dad must have noticed me staring at the bag of food, “We’ll find more food soon, Bridge. We should get to the next town over today and be able to trade and stay someplace for the night.”

  I nod, “Okay, dad. It just sucks that we have to walk in this rain just to get there.”

  “It’s not so bad. We’ve walked farther in worse.” He replies.

  I smile, recalling the horrible storm we had to walk through two winters ago. Snowflakes the size of golf balls, wind blowing so fast I could feel the tears freezing to my face. We forced ourselves to walk an hour in that storm just to take shelter in the back of an old box truck. We stayed in that truck for two days waiting for the storm to blow over. The snow was up to our waists by the time we started walking again. Practically making it impossible to move at all, but we managed to make it through.

  “How much further till we get to the next town?” I ask, taking another bite of my apple.

  “All day. We won’t get there till dinner time and I’m praying we can trade something for meat.” He responds.

  “Have you heard any rumors about this town?”

  “Not any bad ones. I think it’s just a small one, maybe a handful of people. Nothing like Florida where the cities are crammed full of people. That’s what’ll get you killed fast.” He says.

  “I like the small towns. People are always really friendly there.” I say.

  “Yep,” he finishes his apple and tosses the core on the ground. “Finish up and get your things together. We need to get moving soon. Make sure your gun is loaded as well.”

  I nod, then quickly finish my apple. I toss the core to the floor with his and wipe my hands on my jeans. I get back in my pack and grab the black hoodie from inside. It’s the only thing I have to keep myself somewhat dry and warm. I slip it on and zip it up then pull the hood over my head. Neither of us sleep without our shoes on, unless we are safe in a town with more than just us. That way if we need to make a quick getaway, we don’t have to fight with putting our shoes on to do so.

  Another tip of mine to survive the apocalypse.

  Dad rolls up the sleeping bag and wraps it in a garbage bag to keep it dry, then straps it to the bottom of his backpack. He slips a grey sweatshirt over his head and puts the hood up on his as well. The two of us fling our bags over our shoulders, instantly weighing us down a bit. Next, we go to our guns.

  They sit side by side on the table. His a semi-automatic that has seen its fair share of bloodshed. Mine is relatively new, a nine millimeter that’s a silvery black color. We bartered for it just before we left Florida. Dad thought it was about time I had a gun of my own and found this small one with plenty of bullets to keep me going. The perfect gift for a nineteen year old girl who lives in a world with zombies and vamps.

  I lift my gun from the table and make sure the safety’s on so I don’t accidently shoot myself. I’ve seen that happen before and it’s not pretty. Then I make sure it’s loaded with all ten bullets and smile.

  “Ready to go?” he asks, after he has his own gun in his grip.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, pops.” I say with a smile.

  I follow him to the door and wait for him to unlock it. He takes one last look through the peephole before pulling it open.

  It isn’t raining as bad as the sound on the tin roof made it seem. The drops are huge but it’s really only sprinkling. The sky isn’t even that dark, the storm must be letting up. The clouds are still grey, but the wind isn’t howling like it was last night. There were times I thought the whole shack would blow over.

  Thankfully it didn’t.

  We walk away from the shack and head for the street. The town we stayed in overnight has been abandoned for a while now. Many of the buildings have been burned down and are merely charred remains along the roads. I know there are monsters hiding in those buildings somewhere. Vamps are probably watching us from the dark corners as we walk in the middle of the street. They might not like the daytime, but that never meant they didn’t sleep through it. They’re just planning their next attack on whatever victim gets in their way. So far, it hasn’t been us.

  I don’t know which I hate the most of those two beings. They’re both pretty scary and mean and, well let’s face it, disgusting. Both can’t really stop themselves from being the way they are. They can’t control what they do or why they do it. Almost makes me feel sorry for them. Then I think of what they’ve done to this world and to me and the sorrow disappears.

  I will admit, I kind of like the zombies a bit more. They’re really easy to predict and outrunning them is a breeze. They are slow and uncoordinated and much easier to kill than the vamps. If you don’t have sunlight, you’re basically screwed. Still a tough decision on which monster to hate the most. One day I might have an answer. Today’s just not that day.

  We stay on the main street for a while until dad gets his map out to make sure we’re going the right way. I’d hate to get going and find out we’re lost. That’s how we ended up turning around and heading south again for three days. It wasn’t until we got to one of those green signs along the highway, the ones that say which city is coming up. We saw one that said Orlando 87 miles. Had to turn around from that point.

  We’ve only just gotten to the northern border of Georgia and we’re about to cross into Tennessee. The town we’re headed to is there somewhere, a few hours away I guess. I’m glad dad knows where we’re going, because I have no clue. When it comes to reading maps or taking directions of any kind, I’m not good at it at all. I get all befuddled and lose my spot and then I just get aggravated and take it out on the world.

  I’ll stick with my gun and leave the navigating to someone else. Shooting is more my style. The very first time I shot a gun, was right after this pandemic began. One of those zombies was in the backyard of my childhood house and I picked up my dad’s gun and shot it right in the head. Never been more proud of myself until that very moment. I just can’t believe it took my dad so long to get me a gun of my own. It’s hard having to borrow his whenever we get into a jam.

  We turn onto another street in the town, this one will lead us to the highway. As we walk, I look around at the buildings on either side of the street. Quite a few of the windows are busted out and a few have smoke damage covering the window frames. If it weren’t for the burned buildings, the abandoned cars, and the few rotten bodies strewn all over the place, this wouldn’t have been a bad town to live in. I’m sure at one point it was teaming with life and people were always happy to go through their day. Walking down the streets with smiles on their faces and not a care in the world. That’s not this place. It’s filled with death and despair, it’s nothing now. A desolate land I’m glad to be rid of soon.

  Dad spots a red minivan stranded in the middle of an intersection. The drivers’ window is busted out and the passenger door is wide open. I know what he’s thinking. Maybe the keys are in it and maybe it still has a full tank of gas with an undead battery. I’m thinking the same thing and hoping for it too. A nice ride in a car would be like heaven right now.

  He closes in on the van, his gun raised out in front of him in case we see movement. I stay a few feet behind him with my fingers wrapped tightly around my own gun. I’ve never gotten nervous about approaching a random car or even going inside a building. I know those things are hiding everywhere we go, but it’s the thrill of a good adventure and finding new things that drives me forward. One of the reasons I never c
omplain about going across the country with dad.

  I watch as he peeks inside the broken window and looks through the vehicle. I rush up to him when he waves for me to come. The smell of decay burns my nose when I get close enough and I quickly cover my face with my hand. Slouched over in the drivers’ seat is what’s left of a human. It’s so badly decomposed I can’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Maybe if the head was still there I could get a clear answer on that. There’s just nothing left, but a black, gooey hole in its neck.

  “Want some jerky?” dad jokes, nodding to the corpse.

  I grimace and shake my head. There’s not much left to the body other than the dark brown muscles and the bones poking through. One of its hands is still wrapped around the steering wheel. Dad’s right though, it does look like a giant piece of beef jerky. Not a flavor I’d be willing to try anytime soon.

  “The keys are still in the ignition.” he says.

  I stare at the body again and take a deep breath, “I think I’d rather walk than force myself to help you take that thing out of there. Other than that, I doubt it will start. That person probably died with the car running.”

  He nods, “Most likely. Let’s just keep going.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, dad, I do hate walking and would love to find a car. Just not that one. It’s much too gross for me.”

  “Oh, quit being such a girl, Bridge, you’ve seen worse.” He says as we start walking again.

  Another point for dad at being right on something.

  The zombies themselves look far more disgusting than the corpse in that van. Most of them have dried blood covering the front side of their body, soaked into whatever clothes they were wearing when they got infected, if they were wearing any at all. I’ve seen one with its left eye dangling out of its socket, a brown mucus pouring from the hole. The one I will never forget seeing, would have to be the one with the bottom portion of its jaw gone. It used to be a woman and she was wearing this bright pink dress, stained with blood of course. Her tongue hung out of her mouth, draping onto her neck like a necklace. I’m not even sure how she would eat a human without the bottom part of her jaw. But, she came after us with a hunger that died the second my bullet entered her brain.

  These are much better memories to relive than any old slumber party with my friends. I honestly don’t think I could get anymore sarcastic than that.

  The on ramp to the highway isn’t much farther. A couple more blocks and we will be putting plenty of distance between us and this town as possible. We’ve gotten lucky and haven’t run into any monsters in this town, but I know we will once we get back on the highway. For some reason, zombies tend to roam the highways and interstates looking for a fresh meal. Granted, there are normally more of them hiding in towns and houses, but we see our fair share of them on the highway. Vamps tend to stick to the cities and the woods so they have a place to hide during the day. The one good thing about traveling when the sun’s out.

  I let out a yawn as we ascend up the ramp. A few scorched cars are crashed against the concrete wall to our right. I don’t bother to look inside those for the remains of their owners. With any luck, they died in that crash and aren’t roaming around as one of the monsters.

  There’s a black sedan at the top of the ramp with its trunk popped open. The front end of it is completely under the back end of a truck. I can hear the rain drops hitting whatever is in the trunk, sounds like plastic. Dad goes up to the car and stares at what’s inside. I walk to his side and look down at the few white grocery bags. All of them still full of their contents.

  I turn to dad and he smiles at me, “Shall we hunt for treasure?”

  “We shall.” I reply in a regal tone of voice.

  The first bag I rip into is filled with the blackened remains of whatever food was once in there. It smells awful so I don’t bother touching anything to find out if any of it is still good. I toss that bag back into the trunk and grab another. This one is much better than the first. No food or fresh bottles of water, but I find something so amazing I feel like I could cry. There are three bottles of the most wonderful thing I’ve seen in a while, all a different type. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. This person must have ran out of everything when they bought this. At least now it will get some use.

  “Soap.” I say my heart filled with glee. “This doesn’t get traded when we get to that town, by the way.”

  Dad chuckles as he continues going through the bags. He isn’t having much luck. Whatever food left in the bags has long since expired and all that’s there is a black pile of mush. The wrappers are even black and disgusting. He gets down to the last bag and we finally find something good. Four cans of soup, two chicken noodle and two beef stew, a box of noodles we could trade at the town along with the jar of spaghetti sauce. Dad’s not much into boiling noodles like that, he sticks to the easy meals to prepare. If we’re lucky, our find will get us a dry place to sleep for the night.

  “Turn around so I can put what we’re not going to trade in your pack,” dad orders and I obey.

  Once he has my bag zipped up, with the food and my amazing new soap inside, I turn around and he has me put the noodles and sauce in his pack. He likes to hold onto whatever we can use to trade for things. I know the reason for that, I just don’t like to think about it. He says he wants me to hold onto the food just in case something happens to him. That way he’ll know I won’t starve when he’s gone. I’m glad he plans ahead for this, but I hope and pray it’ll never come down to it. I don’t know how long I’d survive without him.

  We walk for about an hour and nothing exciting has happened. No zombies and no other humans. The rain picked up for about ten minutes and we waited under an overpass until it let up. It actually stopped completely when it did, but the dark clouds remain to block out the sun. At least I’m able to take the hood off my head and let the breeze blow through my hair. We check every decent looking car we pass, hoping one of them would start for us. They’re all completely destroyed or the keys are gone and neither one of us knows how to jump start a car. There was one that still had gas and the keys were still in the ignition, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. It was a blue Mustang and it would have been a fun car.

  Dad reaches behind him and pulls the bottle of water from its holster on the backpack. He was able to fill it up with rainwater as we waited under the overpass. With pollution practically nonexistent anymore, the rain isn’t very toxic. I guess the atmosphere is cleaning itself up while the living creatures on the planet suffer. A little ironic if you ask me. Humans spend millions of years inventing new things, killing our atmosphere and the planet, then we create the one thing that is wiping us out while cleaning up the planet in the process.

  You’re welcome Mother Earth.

  “Thirsty?” dad asks and I take the bottle from him.

  I only take a small drink in order to conserve it. No saying how long it will be before we come across fresh water again. We don’t venture into the woods looking for lakes or anything. It’s dark in there and the trees block the sunlight so the vamps can come out and play whenever they want. Too risky for us.

  I hand him the bottle and he puts it away, “Hey, dad, what day do you think it is?”

  He shrugs, “I don’t know. It feels like a Thursday so we can guess that.”

  “How does it feel like a Thursday when you don’t know what day it is either?”

  Again, he shrugs, “It’s like when I was at work and I just get that feeling that in one more day I’ll be able to relax with my family at home.”

  “Maybe it feels like that because we’re going to make it to that town today.” I reply.

  “Probably, but it’s better than feeling like a Monday. Those are almost as bad as Sunday.”

  This is what our conversations consist of. Boring. Back and forth small talk about what day it is or what month it is or how far we’ve traveled and boring stuff like that. Nothing fascinating happens anymore to give us something different to talk abo
ut. We have run into people who actually keep track of the day and month thus ending part of our boring conversations for a while. We met a guy in Florida right before we started walking. He said it was March 2019, five years after the wonderful cure. Hard to believe I was only fourteen when this all happened.

  I remember the day I first found out about it. I was in the backyard with my older brother. He was practicing his pitches for baseball and I was there to toss the balls back to him. He could throw the ball so fast, it took the bark off the tree and left a good sized dent in the trunk of it. Then the cure came along and ruined everything.

  Our mom came running outside screaming at us to come in. She said it wasn’t safe anymore and we couldn’t play outside. The news was on and I saw the monsters on the screen. Zombies chasing people through the streets of New York and vampires hunted whoever was out at night. Security cameras showed the evidence of the attacks and was enough to get my family in a panic. My older sister had to come home from college because they were shutting the place down. It was a scary time and leaving the house made everything worse.

  We tried to wait it out, hoping for the best every day. A few of the neighbors stayed behind with us while the rest drove off in search of safety. It wasn’t until the next door neighbor’s house got broken into at night and they ended up dead. Well, one was for sure dead and her husband came back as a vamp. That was our cue to leave and dad thought it was best to head to Florida and find his parents.

  That trip brings up too many horrible memories and I don’t want to recall them right now. I close my eyes, fight back my tears, and walk onward with dad.

  “You alright over there, Bridge?” he asks.

  I open my eyes and nod, “I’m fine, just thinking.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not this time.” I’m sure he knows what I’m thinking about.

  He nods and we keep going. A semi-trailer blocks the road ahead of us so we cross the median to get around it. Before we get to the other side, I can smell a familiar aroma drifting through air. I’m pretty good at sniffing these things out. Their deadness floats the air, finding its way up my nose. Not the best smell on the planet, but at least it’s a sign something worse is about to come our way.