Less Than Human (3 page)

B
en awoke abruptly, snapping out of the horrific nightmare. He realized he had awakened inside a new one. The concrete floor was cold beneath him. The room was dank and smelled like urine, as well as other unknown pungent odors. He glanced around, surveying several unfamiliar faces, and the four he had been with before he ended up...

 
Where am I?
Ben asked himself.

“
Welcome to Hell, mister,” the black man in the cage next to him said. He had his arm around a young man, whom Ben assumed was his son. They were sitting, backs propped against the heavily-textured stucco wall.  

“
Where are we?” Ben asked, looking at Josh, who had been tossed in the cage across from him.

“
The basement. Motherfuckers duped us,” Josh told him.

“
You,”
a man uttered contemptuously. He was kneeling on the floor, in the same cage as Ben, pressing his face against the chain-linked prison bars. His face was badly cut, blood had dried in streaks on his cheeks. The victim of a few angry tree branches perhaps. His shirt had holes big enough to be fingered and his slacks shared a similar story. He was dirty. Smelled bad. Much worse than the other dozen prisoners. “I... know you,” he said to Josh.

“
Excuse me?” Josh said.

“
You're Josh Emberson, right?”

Josh looked at the man, shaking his head. “Look, man—” And then it hit him like a swift kick in the crotch. It was his eerily familiar face, one Josh wasn't particularly fond of. “Well, I'll be damned.”

“It's me. John Vander. Olivia's father.”

“
Yeah, I almost didn't recognize you without your glasses and those cuts and bruises.” Olivia flashed into his mind, as she seldom did those days. Her nearly-perfect naked body. Her sweet smile. The magic tricks she could do with her tongue. “Where's Olivia?” Josh asked, although deep down, he knew.  

John Vander shook his head, his glassy eyes telling the whole story. “She didn't make it. We were driving back from June's mother's house when these psychos abducted us. They... I don't know what they did with Olivia and her mother. But... those bastards told me they didn't make it.”

“Shit.” Josh took another moment to reflect on the good times he had with his ex-girlfriend. The drugs. The sex. The unfathomable sensation of mixing those two things together. “How long have you been in here?”

“
A week.”

“
I've been here four days,” a man sporting a trucker hat said. He was in the cage to Ben's right, alone. Ben noticed a burgundy stain on the concrete next to where the man sat. He assumed it wasn't spilled wine. The stain looked weeks old and the truck driver didn't appear to be wounded. “They took me at a truck stop in Voorhees.”

“
They took us out of our homes,” a woman in her forties said. She was with her son, a twenty-something year old. “Three days ago.” She had an accent that wasn't quite southern, but not Jersey either.

“
We need to get out of here,” Ben said. “And soon.” He recalled what he had been told right before the attack.

“
Well, I tell you what—you let us know when you find a way out,” the black man said.

“
What's your name?” Ben asked.

“
Me? Name's Ross. This is my son. Landry.” He put his hand on Landry's neck and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“
Well, Ross. I'm Ben. Sitting across from me, in that cage over there, is Josh.” Ben nodded to the cage farthest from him, to the right of the staircase. “That's Victoria and her daughters Emily and Brittany.” He looked at the cage to his right. There was an old man sitting there with long silver hair and a cowboy hat. He reeked of smoked tobacco. Ben looked to the woman and her twenty-year old son. “I think we should go around the room and introduce ourselves.”

“
What's the point, man?” a middle-aged man rudely inquired. He was in the same kennel as Ross and his son.

“
Because. If we're going to get out of this thing, we are going to have to work together. And that means we have to trust to each other. The only—”

“
There's no getting out of this,” the bespectacled man interrupted. “I've been here for almost two and a half weeks.
Two and a half weeks.
Do you know what they do to the people they bring here? They take them, in small groups, and they never return. It's been going on ever since I woke up here.”

“
Two weeks ago?” Josh asked. “You mean... you don't know what it's like up there, do you?”

“
I tried to tell Jason here about the zombies,” Ross said. “But he won't listen.”

“
Can you believe this fucking guy?” Jason asked. “Keeps going on about fucking zombies.”

“
It's true,” Ben said.

“
I've seen them too,” the woman with the twenty-year old said. “I'm Tabby by the way. This is my son, Anthony. He's mute, so he won't be saying very much I'm afraid.” Anthony shot his mother a  disdainful look, rolling his eyes, clearly embarrassed. She shrugged her shoulders, continued running her fingers through his hair. Anthony tilted his head down, staring at the floor. “The zombies are real,” she added, then peered at Jason, who shook his head disbelievingly. 

“
Yeah, yeah. You fucking people are crazy, you know that?” Jason chuckled somewhat madly. “There's only one way out of his place, man. And that's if those redneck motherfuckers drag you out.”

“
Well, we better find another one.” Ben looked around the room, surveying their worried faces. They wore looks of despair. “Because what's headed our way... is a lot worse than what those apes upstairs have planned for us...”

          
CHAPTER TWO

TWO DAYS AGO...

I
t
had been over a week since Ben Ackerman felt alive. The past few days consisted of ambling back and forth between the couch and his bed. He was still unable to keep a meal down, which led to many trips to the bathroom. Salty crackers seemed to be the only food his stomach didn't reject. The beginnings of a beard started to bother him. He hoped to find the strength to erase it soon.

Ben found himself in front of the bedroom mirror, appearing too thin.
Much too thin
. The emaciated reflection of himself was barely recognizable. The bathroom scale informed him that he had lost over twenty pounds since he got sick.
Jesus.
The number was alarming considering he was under his average weight before he started his saltine-only diet.

Despite his frail frame, Ben felt much better. He had an appetite, which relieved him greatly. The thought of eggs and sausage made his mouth water and his stomach growl.

After he ate, Ben decided to retrieve his mail. He wondered how large the collection had grown over the past week and how many bills awaited his arrival. Since the sickness hit him full force, this was first time he stepped foot outside. Slowly, Ben trudged toward the mailbox, shielding his eyes from blinding sunlight. Although he felt better, his muscles remained stiff from inactivity. Ben's eyes were still acclimated to the dim indoor lighting, burning with intensity when sunlight hit them. It would be a few more days before he felt one-hundred percent again, however, he was thankful to be on his feet. Ben had never been a sit-around-the-house kind of guy. If his free time wasn't spent grading papers or editing stories for the local newspaper, he was doing yard work or fixing up the old Mustang, which currently took up most of the room in his garage. That and hundreds of tools forced Ben to park his blue Sonata in the driveway.

Ben grabbed the pile of mail from the mailbox, flipped through the envelopes lazily.
Electric bill. Water bill. Lawyer bill. Doctor bill. Oh, a Chowmart Ad.
Nothing interesting, nothing that required immediate attention. He wedged the envelopes under his arm, journeying back toward the house. His legs ached like he had ran a marathon. The flu had gotten the best of him, hit him real hard. He couldn't remember the last time he was that ill. Doctor Dillon had called in a prescription to help, but really the only thing to do was rest and wait it out. “You'll start feeling better in about week,” he had told Ben over the phone. And sure enough, today, he felt
much
better.

As Ben dragged himself across the front porch, he noticed suburban life around him was fairly quiet, which seemed odd for summertime. The street was eerily grim, void of the everyday outdoor functions. It was like everyone had up and left.
Maybe they're all on vacation,
Ben thought.
Or at the beach.
It was, after all, the first week of summer vacation, the first week the kids had off from school. People were most likely out and about, doing things that involved cool water and catching sun-rays. Especially since Red River was only a five-mile hike from the shore. The beach was probably packed, every grain of sand occupied. Although Ben hated trips to the beach since childhood, even he admitted today was the perfect day for sand and sun.

But...

Surely there should be
someone
outside; the kids from down the block riding their bikes; Mr. Weathers from across the street letting his dog out to shit on the sidewalk; the always scantily-clad Miss Andrews watering her plants while all the men on the block watched from their garages as their wives writhed their noses at her from their living room windows; the elderly Philip Morrow trimming his hedges symmetrically even though they were already immaculate.

Someone. Something. Anyone.

As strange as it was to see no one, Ben didn't dwell on it for very long. Instead, he went inside and plopped himself on the couch, drained from his mailbox excursion.

B
en knew he had to call Melissa. She wasn't his favorite person to talk to, and he knew she wasn't going to have anything pleasant to say, but he had to do it. It was a phone call he dreaded, yet enjoyed at the same time. He missed her voice, her
nice
voice, not the screaming, psychotic voice she so frequently displayed when they were together. Every time he picked up the phone to call her, his thoughts wandered into memories of her, both joyful and painful. They had been married for ten years. They had good times and they had bad times. Ultimately, the bad outweighed the good, something he kept reminding himself of, especially when he was alone with his thoughts, missing the sound of her
nice
voice.

Ten years,
he thought.
What the hell was I thinking?
Really, they shouldn't have stayed together that long. They only tried to work things out for one reason, and that was Jake.

Jake was eight when his parents split. Like most kids when words like
separation
and
divorce
are brought to the dinner table, Jake blamed himself. He cried and moaned about it for days, telling everyone, teachers and classmates included, that his parents hated him and their main goal in life was to ruin his. He acted out in class, on the bus, and at home. Sometimes violently, but mostly Jake verbally disrupted daily routines, using words children his age shouldn't. Before Ben started sleeping on his colleagues' couches, Jake had been a real treasure. He always received fantastic grades and his teachers had nothing but positive things to say about him, especially when it came to manners. “A polite little boy,” a teacher once said. “A real joy to be around.”

That changed quickly once his mother threw his father out. Jake started playing the role of class troublemaker, spending at least one day a week in the principal's office. Getting Jake to do schoolwork—or any work, for that matter—was like pulling teeth without any Novocaine. Teachers began hating him. He lost the friends he made the prior year, creating enemies. Many hours were wasted in after-school detention. Jake Ackerman began his trek down a dark, lonely path.

Then came the decision to leave New Jersey and take Jake to the state his mother grew up in: Pennsylvania. The decision came as quite a shock to Ben, considering he was told his opinion didn't matter, that he had no say in the future whereabouts of his only child. Enraged, he argued with Melissa, even threatened to take her to court, but in the end he gave up fighting and Melissa got her way. Just like she always did.
A kid needs his father,
his mother's voice chirped inside his head. She pushed for Ben to get a lawyer, but he declined. It was only going to make things worse for Jake, and the kid had been screwed up enough over their inability to stay cordial. So, for the sake of Jake, Ben signed the necessary paperwork and let him go, a decision he'd always second guess.

A kid needs his father.

Ben had no plans of being an absentee father. He would see Jake as much as he could, which the way he figured it, would be at least one weekend a month, sometimes two. The town they moved to was just outside of Pittsburgh, about a five-hour drive from Red River. It wasn't convenient, but they'd make it work. Unless, Melissa wanted to be a bitch about it. And why not? She had been about everything else.

“
It's almost been a year,” she said. “It's time to get over it, Benjamin.”

Benjamin.
He hated that name. And she knew it. That's all she called him since their separation.

“
I think it's time we make it official.”

Ben had been forced to call her the day his illness began. He was scheduled to drive to Pittsburgh the following day, but had to postpone his departure due to the unusually high fever and lack of energy. He knew Melissa wouldn't give half a shit whether he drove out or not, but he was concerned how Jake would take the news. The last time Ben saw him was back in March. He had plans to see him a few times since, but Melissa unexpectedly canceled them.

Too long,
his mother's voice echoed in his mind.
Way too long.
He agreed with Mama Ackerman, but sadly, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“
I know,” Ben said. “Look, I know I've been holding off as long as possible—”

“
Benjamin, if this is another feeble attempt to persuade me to come back to New Jersey, then you can forget it.” Ben had held off signing any legal documents in case Melissa changed her mind and decided the things that came between them could be worked out, and that maybe they could reignite the flame that had kindled so many years ago. In reality, that wasn't going to happen. “I
need
you to sign the papers... this is getting to be fucking ridiculous.”

“
Okay, so mail me the papers and I'll sign them.”

“
I
did
mail you the papers. Six fucking months ago. You said 'don't worry about it, I'll take care of it.' Well, Benjamin, my lawyer hasn't heard a peep from you since,
so what the hell is going on with you?”

He could hear the hostility in her voice.

“Okay, okay. Look, I'm not feeling too well. I think I'm coming down with something. As soon as I start feeling better, I'm driving out to see you. I promise. We'll get everything squared away and we'll be done with it.” Ben took a deep a breath, then exhaled. “Fine. I lost them. I've had a lot of shit on my plate, Mel. Between work and my father...” He stopped. His father hadn't been well. Not at all. The doctors claimed there was nothing that could be done for him. The bottom of his hourglass was almost full. (Their words). Ben usually made sure to visit him at least once a week, sometimes twice, depending how much Mama Ackerman begged him.

“
I'm really sorry about your dad, I really am.”
Finally, a little compassion.
He knew it wouldn't last long. “But this bullshit has gone on long enough. It needs to end soon.”

Ben agreed, only to spare himself the grief of listening to her bitch for another half hour or so. Then, he asked to speak with Jake. There was another moment of silence and Ben knew she was contemplating saying no. She had threatened him in the past, when Ben had been more combative about signing the divorce papers. But today, he was calm. Maybe if he had more strength he would have fought her, asked her to reconsider her life-altering decision, but he had been down that dead end before. Many times. And yet, he still clung to hope, the idea that one day they'd be a family again.

“Fine,” she said. She yelled their son's name so loudly that Ben had to hold the phone away from his ear. Ben heard pitter-patter across the hardwood floor and a second later, he heard heavy breathing in his ear. It made him smile. His heart pumped aggressively.

“
Hey, Dad!” Jake practically yelled.

“
Hey, Jakester. How's it going?”

“
Eh, okay. I missed the last week of school. Wasn't feeling too hot.”

“
That stinks. You know, I'm not feeling too well myself. I think I have a fever.”

“
That's what I had!” Jake almost screamed. “The doctor said it's real weird to get sick like that in June, but lots of people are getting it. He doesn't know why.”

“
That's weird...”

“
Anyway, have you seen the news?” he asked excitedly.

“
No, I haven't really watched any TV today. Why? What happened?”

“
Oh, man. Crazy stuff is happening all over the place.”

“
Really? Like what?” The first thought that popped into Ben's head was another natural disaster. A hurricane, a tornado, or maybe even a tsunami. Something catastrophic that claimed the lives of a few hundred people. Then his mind went somewhere darker.
Terrorism
.

“
Some guy went crazy on a bus in California. The police are saying he was eating people.”

“
What?” Ben asked, almost not believing it. He turned on the television, flipping to the first news channel he could find. Sure enough, they were covering a story close to what Jake had described. Only, this event took place inside a diner in Boston. A man stumbled into the joint looking for something a little more exotic than lemon meringue pie. He gnawed on a man's ear for several moments before some brave patrons attempted to subdue him. They succeeded, but not without casualties.

Ben flipped the channel to a different news station—CNN. Same story, different city.

People were going mad.

“
David thinks it's drugs. Bath salts or something. Dad, what are bath salts?” Jake asked innocently.

“
They're something you put in the water when you take a bath. It's supposed to relax you. Jake, who is
David?
” Ben had never heard the name mentioned before.

“
Mom's new friend. He's over like all the time. He's really cool!”
Fucking fantastic,
Ben thought. Suddenly, he wondered if David was the first guy to be with his ex since her big move. Second? Third? Thinking about it made him nauseas. “He's taking me to a Pirates' game next week.”