“We have to eat.”
Rowan heard the disdain in Garret’s voice as if embarrassed by his admission.
“I know,” he said. “You gonna be all right there?”
Rowan waited for a response, but only received a begrudging grunt. He headed for the far end of the building, aiming for the corner adjacent to the doorway. The rooftop was littered with trash, a clear indicator someone had recently tried to settle there for a time. He reached the corner of the building and hopped up onto the flat ledge. His eyes found the vast outlands only a block away.
The overgrown grass was alive, swaying from side to side. Sunlight stretched out across the shifting blades and revealed countless heads of an infected flock marching through the grassland. Rowan’s eyes worked frantically across the horror of what he was seeing. There was no sign of survivors, nothing to give him hope that anyone escaped such an imposing force.
“Well?”
Rowan was shocked by the sound of Garret’s voice and even more surprised to find him standing a few feet from his side. Rowan shook his head, unsure of what to say.
“The infected are everywhere.” He dropped down and took a new look at their surroundings. “I’ll have to scavenge.” He thought about it and then pulled his pack off and laid it down. He rummaged through the contents and found the remainder of Jacob’s leftovers. There was enough in his waterskin to get him through a day or two at best, maybe a day if he had to share it. “Eat some.” He handed a swatch of dried meat to Garret and then swished around the contents of his waterskin before offering it up. “This is all I have left.”
Garret took both and quickly forced a handful of the meat into his mouth. He took a long pull from the waterskin before something stopped him.
“You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you?”
Rowan nodded and then spoke over Garret before he could interrupt.
“You can bar the door.” He picked his pack up off the ground. “It’s not much, but the supplies should last until you get your legs back under you.”
Garret couldn’t hide the genuine surprise on his face. “You’re going to follow them?”
Rowan looked back at the grassland and nodded.
“You don’t even know if she’s out there,” Garret reminded him.
Rowan started for the door. “I have to see for myself.” He was jogging, determined not to be talked out of going. “Give me the day and I’ll come back for you.”
♦
The grass danced under the power of the wind. The sun was high above the trees, sending the full heat of the day across the outlands. Rowan stood near the boundary unsure if he’d ever live to see the city again. The sound of the infected was lost somewhere across the meadow, but he knew they were out there.
It took every ounce of courage Rowan had to step into the towering grass. He kept moving forward with slow, hesitant steps. He adjusted his grip on his knife over and again, the feel of it somehow calming his nerves. Sweat built on his brow as the temperature rose within the grassland.
His apprehension kept him at a painfully deliberate pace. Sweat drenched his shirt by the time the tree line was within reach. The high cottonwood trees stood as a gate for the unknown. No one from the Cheyenne Tribe had ventured beyond the woods for over a generation. The mythic nature of what lay beyond was too terrifying to imagine. Rowan stood staring at the barrier for a long time before convincing himself he had no other option but to continue. The thought of Mia and Jonah trapped somewhere deep within the woods drove him to cross the final distance.
Stepping into the woods was like stepping into a completely new world. Rowan came to a stop and took in his surroundings. The sounds he’d lost out in the grassland came back to life under the mighty canopy. The echo of hundreds of stopping feet rushed toward him, and the sheer volume overwhelmed Rowan. His heart seized in his chest as he realized the endless sifting shapes in the distance between the trees was the mass of infected he’d been tracking. He instinctively dropped down to the ground and held his breath.
They were everywhere ahead of him, covering the space between the trees as far and wide as he could see. The figures slipped between the mighty tree trunks with each step pushing further into the wild with little concern for who might be following them. The dead-speak grew louder, somehow amplified now that Rowan could see them. A cry arose from the lisping chatter and the common shrill pulled at Rowan’s heart. There was no way to identify the caller, but he was more certain than ever that at least one of the surviving members of the tribe was near.
Rowan moved from tree to tree, each time pulling his arms in as close to his body as possible. He watched the row of figures ahead before rushing forward, advancing closer with every step. Adrenaline urged him on, although he knew exhaustion would soon follow. The front line of trees was lost in the distance and Rowan found himself deep in the unknown.
The canopy grew thicker overhead and the light dimmed as the terrain under the cover changed. The flat land rose and then fell away as hills replaced the smooth surface. The patchwork of fallen leaves was smashed into the soil by the trampling feet of the horde. Rowan’s view drifted between the trees and the sea of footprints on the ground ahead of him.
The horde pulled away as Rowan’s adrenaline faded and the true measure of the daylong travel wore on him. He felt like one of the mindless dead, lumbering forward with little thought of where he was going or what he was doing. Rowan didn’t register the change in the sound of the dead-speak until he reached the crest of a large hill and nearly stepped out into the open. He fell down on his belly the moment his head was exposed.
Rowan tried to piece together the quick glimpse of what lay ahead, but the vision didn’t make any sense to him. He crawled ahead until the bridge of his nose was level with the crest and a wide valley took over the landscape. Trees lined the basin like a perfectly laid fence line, wrapped in an expansive oval. The other side of the hill ran down into a deep depression that leveled out about halfway across the basin.
Rowan’s eyes ran along the valley floor from one side to the other and his mind struggled to understand what he was seeing. A number of crudely crafted structures dotted the landscape, most of which appeared to be the remnants of some long-forgotten settlement. The infected mass had split into several small groups, each one centered on one of the structures. Some of the groups walked around the buildings in loose gatherings with no evident purpose; however, Rowan locked onto the largest faction near the center of the gathering place.
The cries told him what his eyes couldn’t pick out until he studied the formation. There were a number of people, survivors he guessed, being forced into one of the structures. The reality of the infecteds’ actions didn’t hit him until one of them pushed the final survivor inside and shut a gate behind them. Jacob’s words fluttered back into his mind.
They’re evolving.
There was no doubting what he was seeing. The infected were housing the living like cattle, keeping their food source close and protected. The revelation was so profound that Rowan didn’t hear the footsteps until a movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. The dead poured out of the undergrowth like a tidal wave. The first of them tumbled over one another, diving to the ground to get their rotting hands on Rowan’s flesh. He rolled out of the way, but not before one of them grabbed his leg.
Rowan yelled, but even in his frightened state he recognized the instant change of the constant dead-speak down in the valley. He clawed at the ground and yanked his leg free, getting to his feet as more than a dozen zombies bore down on him. He was running and the space beneath the cottonwood canopy was alive in every direction. A wailing moan erupted between the trees in one long song and the impact shook Rowan to his core.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, and the state of his body was quickly clear. His legs ached and his lungs burned with every step. Everywhere he turned, the dead were closing in. The moaning grew at an alarming rate until no other sound could
compete against it.
Rowan ran blindly, unaware of his direction. His options for escape lessened by the second as the lumbering figures pressed in from either side. The closest among them came into full view and their abhorrent look was enough to cause Rowan to stagger. Bare, graying skin dotted the space between the trees. Naked men and women reached out for him, begging for a bite. Open wounds dangled bits of rotted entrails from necks to navels. They slammed into one another with little recognition of their surroundings, each one focused on a single purpose.
Rowan pressed as hard as he could, using every ounce of energy that remained in his body. The dead closed in all around him and he saw no sign of escape. Rowan stumbled as the strength slipped from his legs, tripping twice before tumbling onto the hard dirt. He pushed up to his knees and found dirty hands in front of his face.
Rowan slashed his knife blindly, severing fingers with his cut. The dead grabbed him with no acknowledgement of its newly lost digits. Its decaying breast smacked Rowan on the face as it pressed itself down on top of him. He managed to get his forearm up under its chin and force the zombie’s head back before it could tear into him. He jabbed his knife into its side, opening a gash under the arm.
He knew he had to get up or he would be dead for sure. Bodies drifted closer in the corners of his eyes as Rowan pushed up on his attacker with enough force to snap its neck. The move allowed him to get his feet under him. He rose to his full height and brought his knife around the zombie’s outstretched arms, plunging the blade directly into its temple. The undead woman shook one final time and then slid onto the ground.
Rowan didn’t bother to look around, instead forcing himself to try to run. Hopeless fright consumed his mind. A voice cut through his despair and he recognized his name. It took him a split second to find Garret’s direction as he waved his hands over his head.
“Rowan,” Garret yelled, “this way.”
The signal was enough to get Rowan’s legs moving again. The burning pain in his thighs forced him to grind his teeth, but he kept running. Garret waited until he was certain Rowan was going to reach the clearing before turning around to get a head start. His injuries were obvious in his limp, but Rowan was betting they could outrun the dead if they made it out into the open.
Freedom came with a sudden explosion of space. Rowan was out in the tall grass before he realized it. He caught up with Garret midway between the edge of the woods and the city boundary. He slowed his pace to keep in stride with Garret and the two reached the edge of the first row of buildings before they bothered to look behind them. The view stole what little breath either of them had left. The dead were breaking from the trees. They pressed forward, row after row, with no end in sight. Garret found enough breath to ask a question.
“What did you see?” he asked, his eyes still locked on the horrific vision.
Rowan shook his head, unsure if he could find the words. He was reminded of Jacob’s point of view.
“We’re a dying breed.”
12
An increasing number of concerns filled Mia’s mind. Considering her current situation, she was pretty sure she should be worried about what was directly in front of her. Mia wanted to get back to Rowan and make sure he was all right, she wanted to find Jonah and take him with her, and she wanted to ensure her tribe survived to see another day. She wasn’t sure any of those goals were realistic, but the thought of them was distracting enough to keep her from running scared.
Her immediate concern was moving toward her with a look of hunger in their eyes. The group of infected were fast, hurried by their lust for fresh blood. The mob of undead following in their wake was the least of her troubles. Mia stood with what was left of her people. Her father was among the injured and she prayed her brother was somewhere amongst the others.
The fight started before Mia could process what was happening. The first row of the infected slammed into the defending survivors with the impact of a crashing wave. The savages lashed with teeth and nails as Mia stabbed at the attackers with wild abandonment. The clash was quick and violent, and when it was over Mia found herself on her knees, splotches of blood dotting her clothes. All of the infected were dead and only half of the tribesmen survived. They quickly went about the dreadful task of ending the suffering of their brothers and sisters who would soon succumb to the infection and walk with the enemy.
“Let’s get everyone moving.”
Mia heard Jacob, but it took her a moment for her mind to catch up with her surroundings. She’d witnessed more terrible violence in the past few days than she’d ever seen in her entire life. She managed a nod and let Jacob help her to her feet. She found her father on the sidewalk.
“You did well,” he said.
Mia’s eyes swept the remaining survivors for her brother. Her view came back to Arkin, and his face told her what she didn’t want to know.
“I couldn’t reach him,” he said and lowered his gaze, unable to look at her face. “We have to keep going.”
Mia’s heart sank. She thought she might crumple up right there on the sidewalk. Jacob grabbed her arm and helped her stay on her feet. She stared blindly at her father in painful disbelief. He looked older than she remembered. His breathing was slow and labored. Mia waited for more, but Arkin urged his aids to turn him around. The remains of the tribe followed him in a silent convoy. Jacob stood by Mia’s side until there was no one left.
“The dead will soon be on us,” he said, peering over his shoulder. “I’m sure we can pick a better spot to meet our end.” He pulled on her arm and it got her feet moving.
They caught up with the remaining survivors and the gaggle pushed across the city. Mia’s mind drifted back and forth between her brother and Rowan. Both thoughts brought with them an overwhelming sadness and she struggled to keep herself from crying, leaning heavily on Jacob with each passing step. Mia would soon have to decide if she was going to stay with the tribe or turn north to see if Rowan was still waiting for her.
“He would have gotten out of there by now.” The statement surprised Mia and for a moment she thought Jacob was reading her mind. “There’s no hope in trying to reach Rowan,” he continued. “I would guess he’s on the run.”
“You don’t know that,” she countered. “He was supposed to wait for me.”
“Then he’s already dead.” The blunt statement hit her like a punch in the face. “The infected are taking the city, block by block. We’ll be lucky to get out alive.”
Mia felt her legs weakening with every step. Her gut churned as her mind raced. She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t go on without knowing. Jacob refocused his point for her.
“These people need you,” he said. “Your people.”
Mia shook her head, her eyes still blind to her surroundings.
“They don’t need me,” she said. “They have my father and the other members of the…” she scanned the remaining group but couldn’t find a single council member. “They don’t need me.” Her stance hardened. “I left them.”
“It probably saved your life,” Jacob reminded her.
Mia didn’t care at the moment. She wasn’t sure she wanted to live in a world without Jonah and Rowan. She closed her eyes and held onto the thought of her brother. In her mind’s eye, she saw Jonah smiling at her and it was enough to break her heart. Tears streamed down her face as she bit her lip to keep the sound of her pain buried in her throat. Her thoughts drifted to Rowan, and his face was replaced with a terrible scene of a gang of infected rushing in after him as he fought to stay alive.
Mia came to a stop, her grip tightening on Jacob’s coat. A sudden spasm ended with her spewing what she had in her stomach all over the pavement. She had her hands on her knees, bent over, staring at the ground. Jacob stopped and waited patiently until she was finished.
“Happens to the best of us,” he said in the best concerned tone he could muster. “Take a drink of this and try and get the taste out of your mouth.”
Mia felt some
thing cold against her hand. She grabbed it without looking, stood up straight and took a long swig. The burn didn’t register until she’d swallowed a few mouthfuls. She nearly spit the rest of it out before her eyes popped open.
“What the hell is that?”
Jacob chuckled as he took the flask from her. “A little of my own brew,” he said with a grin. “It keeps me going when I’ve run out of motivation.”
Mia wasn’t quite sure she understood what he meant, but an unexpected rush to her head gave her some idea. She reached for the flask and Jacob pulled it away.
“Probably not a good idea,” he said, still grinning. “Let’s catch up with the others.”
The group’s progression was slow going. The infected had worked their way across the city and assorted hunting gangs moved in and out of buildings rounding up anyone they found. The idea of the infected being sophisticated enough to coordinate the entire event was beyond comprehension, but Jacob took the development in stride. It wasn’t long before Mia and Jacob were out in front of the group of survivors, leading them through the treacherous terrain.
“We’ll have to wait it out,” Jacob announced with his eyes on a crossroads a few blocks ahead. “We can’t risk trying to get so many people across there. There’s too much movement in those buildings.”
A pair of the infected hunting parties, each made up of a few infected handlers herding several dozen zombies, provided the risk. The undead were ushered into the bottom floors of adjacent buildings while the infected waited outside for any prey to pop out. Mia motioned the survivors toward the entrance of a building, but no one moved.
“We have to wait,” she said. Everyone turned to look at Arkin, but his stare was on his daughter. “We’re in no shape to try and go around,” she explained. “We’ll hole up here and keep watch.”
Arkin hesitated, trying to control his laboring breaths. “Do as she says.”
The Decaying World Saga Box Set [Prequel #1-#2 & Books #1-#2] Page 54
