A grumbled laugh echoed from Yaffa on her way across the room with a clean set of bandages. She smiled at Mia and Rowan before turning her attention to Asher.
“You can try and be tough if you want,” she said as she started rewrapping the wound. “You’re not going to jump up and go running off any time soon.”
Rowan felt Mia wrap her arm around his waist and squeeze. He didn’t want to look at her. Her smell alone was tugging at his emotions and he had no interest in allowing her to work on his decision to go back down into the hive. He settled on what he really needed from Asher.
“You remember how you blew the hell out of the hallway?”
♦
The seemingly endless drop down into the darkness of the gorge was becoming a familiar sight. Rowan had avoided the view for most of the time following the detonation of the security system that reduced the compound to ruins. He flipped the end of the climbing net over the edge and let it fall. There was no sign of the herd of dead that he, Asher, Bale and Bree left on the landing several levels down, but there was little doubt they were hidden somewhere close by.
“You’ve got a lot to do,” he said, standing up and facing the small group that followed him out. “Stay strong, they need you.”
Mia nodded then wrapped her arms around him. Bree and Bale looked on, both trying not to stare. Mia kissed his neck and squeezed harder. She slid her cheek across his face and pressed her lips to his the moment their eyes met. She let go and took a step back.
“And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked.
“Nope,” he admitted.
She didn’t laugh.
“I know what I’m looking for,” he said. “I couldn’t forget that boy’s face. I’m going to try and find him and bind him.” He looked over the edge at the landing. “I’ll slip that sack over him and we’ll haul him up.”
The faux confidence ran from Mia’s face as she spoke. The finer points of Rowan’s plan were still in flux. He’d convinced himself that the commission wanted the nexus more than anything else. His efforts to convince the council and, in particular, Mia, that they could use the undead boy to trade for Jonah and Tate’s safe return was less than successful. He had no way of knowing how long it would take or at what point he’d give up. Mia forced him to agree to a three-day deadline.
“I have to try,” he said.
Rowan brushed her bangs from her eyes. Her expression soured, but she didn’t put up a fight. He felt closer to her than ever before. His devotion to Jonah was an extension of that love, and always had been. She nodded.
“You two,” he said stepping away from her. Bree and Bale snapped to attention. “Remember what I asked you to do.” They nodded and Mia’s brow furrowed. “Don’t worry about,” he offered.
Mia’s mouth opened, but she held on to whatever she was going to say. Rowan made sure his gear was securely strapped. He was standing at the edge of the gorge, eyeballing the sheer wall. He crouched down and started his climb without looking back at Mia. Her voice followed him over the side.
“I love you.”
The heartfelt emotion still had the impact it had when he first heard it. Rowan stopped, his feet several rungs down on the climbing rig.
“I love you, too.”
He descended quickly, coming to a stop over the landing. He held his breath, listening intently to the subtle sounds echoing up from the darkness of the gorge. His memory was filled with visions of the chaotic scene the last time his boots touched the landing. There was no sign of the countless dead.
Rowan took one last look at the edge of the gorge now high above him before slipping off the rig. He hit the metal grates with a solid blow. He scanned the room aligned with the landing and found complete stillness. Rowan unhooked the lantern from his belt and went to work. The light sprang to life and he let it fill the darkness to reassure himself.
“I guess I’m really doing this,” he said to himself as he got up to his feet and drew his gun. “Here we go.”
The room beyond the landing was in ruin. To his dismay, Rowan found Asher’s hand in the dirt precisely where Bree lopped it off. He moved quickly into the hall and advanced toward the center of the hive. The silence stood out, somehow increasing his fear. He’d seen the mob of dead with his own eyes and expected them to pour out of every opening.
The beam of light revealed the open archway where the main hall ended and split. Rowan slowed his pace. He stopped as something crossed through the light at the furthest point. The gun shook in his hand as he held it out in front of him.
He realized he still had one foot off the ground. Rowan lowered his boot and a sound reached him the moment his foot touched the dirty hallway floor. It was low, somewhere beyond the opening directly in front of him. The moan signified the dead, but the notes were somehow unfamiliar. The acknowledgement of the dead had an odd effect. Rowan’s hand grew still, his gun straight and true. There was something comforting about knowing the dead were out there, no longer hiding from him. Rowan couldn’t rightly explain it.
He pressed forward, his mind focused on a plan to reach the elevator door where he and Asher climbed down to the lower levels. Rowan anticipated that the nexus would be near the ground level where he’d ripped the boy from Dr. Olric’s clutches. The thought of his plan allowed him to take another step forward, and he managed to keep the pace until the split in the hall and the opening directly across from it were an arm’s length away.
The lantern’s beam shined through the opening onto a room in total disarray. Large chunks of the ceiling lay toppled on one another in the center of the floor. The decomposing lower remains of some poor sap hung off the edge of two sections of the ceiling, the torso smashed somewhere in between them. The clear sound of footsteps pulled Rowan away from the view, swinging the lantern toward one end of the split hallway.
He found a figure standing there at the edge of the light. It held still, the light catching its eyes. Rowan waited for it to begin it’s shifting walk toward him, but instead it pressed a hand against the wall and pointed at him with the other. The move was so surprising, Rowan called out before he thought it through.
“What are you doing down here?”
The figured lowered its hand, but didn’t respond.
“Are you okay?”
It turned slowly then stepped around the turn and disappeared. Rowan stared at the empty end of the hall, unsure of what he’d seen.
“What the hell?” he whispered.
The interior of the room, which was his focus a moment before, was an afterthought when he turned back to the opening. It took his mind a half second too long to process the hand reaching out into the light. He heard the guttural death moan as a second hand grabbed a hold of his arm. Rowan fired a shot wide off the mark as he pulled back to try and get away.
The woman stumbled into the hall and locked onto Rowan’s arm. He got a glimpse of another figure following her out before the beam of light swung wildly from one side of the hall to the other. Rowan slammed into the wall and used the momentum to swing his attacker around. Her naked figure crossed the light and the horror of her condition was on full display.
Deep gouges lined the side of her torso, ending at a festering mess of decaying muscle and tissue. The gruesome remains of her head were only distinguishable by a dangling eye wedged in the cavity in the center of her face. Her jaw clenched as she lunged, the putrefying muscles animated by the closeness of living flesh. Rowan got a close-up view of her rotting gums before the force slammed her into the wall beside him, cracking her head open in the process.
Her body went limp and her grip released. Rowan kept himself upright, but couldn’t lift his gun fast enough before the second zombie rushed toward him. Rowan managed to raise his knee up to keep the dead man from getting a handful of his clothes. He’d been a soldier by the look of his tattered black fatigues. The decrepit remains of one arm hinted at the pieces that his attackers feasted on when he was still one of the living.
A continuing string of moans pulled Rowan’s attention to the opening across the hall. Shadows crept forward in the dim glow of the light as figures pulled away from the room. Rowan ran, making the turn in the hall as another set of hands reached out for him. He held the lantern up as he sped forward, anticipating what might be lurking around the next corner.
The view was a familiar one. The dead were loosely gathered throughout the hall, but there were too many to try to slip by without a confrontation. Their slumbering turns toward him told Rowan he could not wait them out. The pressure built in his chest as panic crept through his mind. He was trapped and he knew it.
Rowan steadied himself and prepared to fight. A bellowing cry shook his confidence to the core. The blaring yell came from beyond the meandering dead. Rowan didn’t need to see the infected to know one was rushing toward him from the darkness.
Rowan caught the emaciated man in the light as it pushed through the dead, knocking one to the ground. The golden glow of his eyes locked on to Rowan with fierce hate and horrendous bloodlust. Spit flew from its jaws as it roared again. The infected man closed in with tremendous speed and Rowan squeezed the trigger then stopped at the last moment. He watched dumbfounded as the undead reached out and grabbed the infected man as he tried to rush past. The creature threw the man onto the ground, dropped down on his knees, and bit into his throat. Blood gushed from the wound as the zombie pulled back, allowing the crimson fluid to spill all over the floor.
The unfolding scene stunned Rowan. The infected man’s limbs lashed several times before falling lifeless onto the pool of his own blood. The zombie stood up and wiped the blood from his chin onto its sleeve before facing Rowan. The rest of the dead littering the passageway turned away from the event, retreating farther down the hall.
Rowan held his lantern up, focusing the beam as his apparent savior stepped into the light. He kept his gun aimed on a set of rotting teeth. His trigger finger tensed then froze as the mouth parted into a smile. A hint of recognition stung him as the face pulled into the lantern’s beam. Rowan nearly dropped the gun as its mouth opened and it spoke.
“Now there’s a familiar face.”
14
“You’re missing a tooth.”
Jonah heard Tate, but it took him a few seconds to get his eyes open. The blinding light reflecting off the snow forced him to slam them shut again.
“You lost a tooth.”
“I heard you,” Jonah said and forced his eyes open. He squinted and allowed the blurred vision of his friend to solidify. “Where are we?”
His view was angled and he realized he was leaning against a tree. He was surprised to find his feet still untied, but a tug of his hands revealed the truth of their situation. Tate was next to him, their hands bound together, and another tie connecting the two boys around the base of a tree trunk.
“That wasn’t the best plan you’ve ever had,” Tate said.
That much was true. Jonah took a moment to gather himself. The more he shook the haze from his mind, the more the pain worsened. His head felt heavy, twice the size it should be.
“It’s more to the side,” Tate said. “One of the top ones.”
Jonah smiled and tried to slide his tongue into the space of his missing tooth. Tate laughed.
“Don’t smile, it makes you look ridiculous.”
Jonah managed to laugh at himself and instantly regretted it. Pain rose up the front of his face and settled on his temples.
“What happened?”
Tate took a look around before continuing. He turned back apparently satisfied with their relative safety.
“You got punched in the face.”
Jonah rolled his eyes.
“I know that part.”
He smiled again to show his missing tooth.
“And after that,” Tate continued, “Kagan grabbed me by the hair.” He shook his head. “Nearly tore my hair out. One of the soldiers picked you up.” He paused and his eyes swelled as he stared blankly at Jonah. “I thought they were going to kill us.”
“I think they’re going to anyway,” Jonah said off-handedly.
“Don’t say that,” Tate said, snapping back to the moment. “I thought they needed us for something.”
“Maybe, I’m not so sure,” Jonah admitted. “They were looking for that dead boy, the one they call the nexus.”
“Dr. Olric seemed to know who you were,” Tate reminded him.
Jonah nodded slowly as he reworked the information through his mind. He couldn’t come up with any good reason why Dr. Olric might need them alive.
“We’ve met,” Jonah said. “I bloodied his nose once.”
Tate pulled back.
“You what?”
Jonah chuckled.
“It’s a long story.” He studied the encampment with renewed interest. “You don’t bring an army like this to try and capture a boy, even if he is a zombie.”
“So what else are they doing?” Tate asked.
Jonah shrugged.
“I don’t know, but I’d bet it’s something bad for Canaan.”
The boys were left to themselves for the remainder of the day. The soldiers moved in waves. Patrols came in from the east and settled in unclaimed sections of the camp. Fires sprang to life as night set in and an assortment of smells hung in the air. The first of the supper plates were handed out and the full size of the enemy was put on display.
Jonah couldn’t imagine a force so large could be comprised solely of the remains of the commission’s loyalists from Canaan. The logical conclusion pointed to the existence of other compounds and a possible joining of forces. Jonah was certain none of it was good for the newly formed tribe. He marked his time by gathering details, in the hope that he’d live long enough to pass on the information.
The camp was set up into distinct positions. The mounted soldiers controlled one entire end of the camp, their horses tied along a series of posts. The ground soldiers were positioned along the front line. It was difficult to spot the details of their armament, but only a portion of them carried guns. The others were armed with knives and bows and arrows.
A number of smaller gatherings dotted the snow between the soldiers and larger tents in the rear of the encampment. Jonah was surprised to find kids, some much younger than him, fighting over food. Several of the soldiers delighted in the sport of throwing scraps out into the snow to watch the young ones nearly kill one another over the opportunity to get something to eat. He shuddered at the thought of having to join one of the groups.
“We should probably let you starve.”
Kagan’s voice snuck up on the boys. He was a few steps away before either of them saw him. He was holding a chunk of meat, slicing through it with his knife. Steam rose from the skin as he cut into it.
“Not sure why either of you are worth the trouble really,” he said. “What is it Olric wants with you?” He crouched down in front of Jonah still focused on his food. He finished his cut then slid the bite into his mouth. “Come on now, it might be worth some food.”
Jonah shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Kagan flashed an awful smile.
“Don’t lie to me boy,” he said, holding his blade up in front of his face. “I’ll slice one of your ears off.”
He dropped the meat into the snow then grabbed the side of Jonah’s face. Kagan sliced into Jonah’s earlobe before he realized what was happening. Jonah tried to pull away from his grasp, screaming as he did. Blood ran down the blade before he stopped.
“Leave him alone,” Tate yelled as he struggled against his binds.
Kagan pulled back and admired the blood
. He eyed Tate coldly.
“There doesn’t seem to be any good reason why we need the both of you,” he concluded. “I’ll ask you again,” he said to Jonah. “Tell me why Olric is interested in you or I’ll cut your friend open.”
Kagan reached out for Tate and Jonah gave in.
“He thinks there’s something special about Rowan.”
Kagan stopped.
“Who, this one?” he asked, pointing the tip of his knife at Tate.
Jonah shook his head again.
“No.”
Kagan pulled back.
“What’s so special about Rowan?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, then blurted out, “I swear I don’t. It was something to do with his blood.”
“You know about the nexus?” Kagan asked.
Jonah nodded. Kagan stood up and smiled.
“Well then, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
He took a step forward, and the moment his boot hit the snow, a blaring horn rang out in the distance. Kagan stopped and his head spun around awkwardly, trying to look in several directions at once. He lost complete interest in the boys as a noticeable concern washed across his gaunt face. He slipped his knife in a sheath attached to his belt and made a full turn.
“Shit,” he grumbled under his breath, still searching for direction. “That’s all I need.”
The horn sounded again, and this time, Kagan’s eyes locked on to something. Jonah followed his stare to a group of riders beyond the eastern edge of the camp. The last of the evening light hid the details of the new arrivals, but there was a noticeable tension sweeping across the soldiers. Kagan took one hesitant step away from the boys before looking back.
“We’ll finish this later.”
Jonah heard the threat, but his attention was still on the horsemen. The group strode through the camp at a leisurely pace. Their presence had an immediate impact on the soldiers. Men and women scurried into their meager tents and those forced to remain out in the open did their best to look busy.
“What do you think that’s all about?” Tate asked.
Season Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 2) Page 12
