“Well, there it is,” Jacob said.
It took Mia a moment to process his expectation of her response.
“What?” She blinked back to the moment and looked down in the direction he was pointing. “Now what?”
Jacob stared back her and his brow rose slightly on his forehead. “I was hoping you were going to tell me that.” He grunted something to himself and wiped the sweat off his face. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Mia rested her hand on the hilt of her father’s sword, now tied off at her waist. It felt good to have the weapon close to her. “We should clear out one of these smaller buildings.” She took a glimpse back at the line of figures along the sidewalk. “I don’t think most of them will be able to continue for much longer.” A few of the children were lying flat on the ground, some with their heads on the laps of the adults. She took a moment to count and stopped short of two dozen. “So few,” she said under her breath, trying not to think of how many of her people were lost forever.
Barrick stepped away from the others. He walked in close and motioned for Jacob and Mia to join him in a tight circle. The lines in his face highlighted his fatigue.
“You can’t push them anymore,” he said. “There’s only a handful that could fight if they had to, the rest,” he peeked back, “wouldn’t last very long.”
Mia knew the situation before he said it, but his point was well taken. She turned her attention to the two-story directly across the street from where they’d stopped. The main door and first floor windows were boarded up. Chances were that the last occupants were long dead. If Mia and the capable fighters could dispatch the undead that were sure to be inside, the building might prove to be a safe hideout for the night. She made up her mind quickly, but her announcement was interrupted by an all too familiar sound.
“Which way?”
Mia spun around on her heels and followed Barrick and Jacob’s glare down the road behind them. The first of the undead staggered around the corner of a building from a side street. A heartbeat later and there were more than she could count, but it was the first sight of rapid movement that pushed Mia to act.
“Run,” she yelled. “Get up, go.” She ran along the side of the building helping people to their feet. The first screams erupted from the children among the survivors and the sound of their cries appeared to encourage the dead to move faster. “Don’t look back,” Mia said making sure everyone was on the move. She caught Barrick’s attention. “We need to stay behind them and do what we can.” The dead were moving fast and a handful of infected had pulled free from the group and were now running out in front. There was no time for fear. Mia unsheathed her sword, held it out with both hands, and side stepped so she could watch both directions at once.
“Everyone’s moving, get out of there.”
Mia heard Jacob, but she couldn’t see him. She took one last look along the building for any stragglers. Barrick pulled on her arm and got her moving. The infected were closing in when she turned to run.
The scent of the dead washed over them in a wave of putrid mist, soaking every inch of their clothing. The aroma quickly combined with moaning calls for flesh and the combination was enough to send the racing survivors into a frenzy. Mia stayed in the back, turning every few steps to get a look at the haunting view of what was catching up to them. Barrick was close to her and his gasps didn’t bode well for him keeping up the pace, let alone being able to defend the others if he needed to.
Mia was torn with indecision. They were heading for the tall grass, but she knew that the endless maze would most likely be the death of them. She also knew that even if they could pile into one of the few buildings between them and the city boarder, they’d be trapped inside until they starved to death. Neither solution set well in her gut, but a hasty look over her shoulder revealed that it wouldn’t matter. Mia resigned herself to give the rest of the survivors as much of a chance to escape as she could.
“We have to hold them off.”
Her announcement came as she stopped and turned to face the advancing infected. She stood ready, counting the half-dozen raging figures sprinting toward her. She held her sword up in front of her body, the tip running directly along the center of her face. A stream of images rushed through her mind; the faces of Rowan, Jonah, her father, and an assortment of the lost members of her tribe. She used her sorrow and anger to fight off her fear.
“They’ll focus on us.”
Barrick’s voice helped to calm her. She knew she wasn’t alone. Mia braced herself for impact. The fight would have to be quick if they hoped to survive. She didn’t move until she could see the yellow hue of the infected’s eyes as they reached out for her.
Mia swung with deadly precision. The first cut severed a head below the Adam’s apple. She side stepped a set of raking fingernails and brought her blade down for another attack. Barrick closed in tight, stabbing as he went. Two more survivors took up the fight, the first of which was overwhelmed before she ever knew what was happening.
The sides were even when Mia was able to catch her bearings. The remaining infected showed incredible restraint. They opened their mouths and growled, gnashing teeth at their prey. It took a moment for her to realize they were holding for a reason. She backed away, encouraging Barrick and the other man who stayed behind to follow her retreat. The three remaining infected spread out, two of them on the outside, attempting to get around the flank.
“They’re trying to slow us down,” Mia said. She looked past the wretched things toward the massive undead flock drawing closer. Her eyes swelled when she realized several figures were pushing through the dead, racing out in front. “Run.”
The tribesman ahead of her turned around and the nearest of the infected was ready to pounce. The foul thing’s graying skin pressed down on him, smashing him onto the street. Mia moved to help, but one of the others rushed her. The weight of the infected woman hit Mia with enough force to knock the wind out of her. She fell with her arms extended and the impact caused her to drop her weapon. Mia slipped her arm under the infected woman’s chin before her jaws pressed down close enough for a bite. A petrifying roar erupted from the black pit between her snapping teeth and the smell of rotting meat smacked Mia in the face. Gashes along the sides of her cheeks revealed the festering muscle beneath the skin. Haunting golden eyes stared down at Mia with lustful hate as she lashed back and forth.
Mia pushed the woman’s face back, pressing into her throat. Nails dug into Mia’s side, tearing through her shirt and digging into her skin. She reached out for her sword and her fingertips slipped over the hilt. The infected woman’s hands pressed down and her nails dug further into Mia’s ribs. A searing pain caused her to cry out and she gave up her outstretched hand in favor of doubling down on her defense.
Mia wrapped both hands around the woman’s throat and squeezed. The infected woman gasped as Mia tightened her grip. The skin around her eyes darkened as she gagged. The woman convulsed one last time before her entire body went limp. Mia rolled to one side, letting the woman’s lifeless shell slide onto the concrete as she got out from under her.
She barely had time to consider her situation before Mia found herself a step away from another attacker. Barrick’s lifeless body lay on the sidewalk. A long splotch of fresh blood highlighting the face of the infected man in front of her told the story of Barrick’s end. Mia was defenseless. The infected man took one step toward her then froze. His body shuddered before the tip of a knife popped out one of his eye sockets, bursting the eyeball as it did. He fell forward, leaving Jacob standing directly behind him.
“Come on, we have to go.”
He reached out for her. Mia snatched her sword off the ground then grabbed his hand. She took one last look at Barrick before focusing on the view behind them. The host of the dead was near with another pack of infected running out in front of them. There was no way Mia and Jacob could get away.
“Let’s go,” Jacob said, “no use watching them.”
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The old man started first and Mia didn’t move until the yank on her shoulder forced her to. She could hear the smacking steps of the infected bearing down on them the moment she turned her head. She cringed, anticipating the full force of them throwing themselves on top of her. An echoing sound pulled her thoughts from the certainty of death.
“Get down.”
Mia heard Jacob, but she didn’t understand the direction. It wasn’t until the front line of the tall grass erupted in bursts of explosions that she complied. The eruptions continued for several seconds. Jacob started moving again, but this time he was fixated on what was following them. Mia was lost when she got to her feet. A look back showed the infected were lying on the ground, covered in their own blood.
Jacob dusted himself off. The immediate threat was gone, but the dead were still coming. Mia’s head spun back and forth between the bodies of the infected and several figures stepping out of the grass along the city boundary. They were dressed head to toe in bizarre patterns of browns and greens. One of them pointed at Mia and waved them forward.
“What was that?” Mia asked, still trying to wrap her mind around what happened. “That noise…how did they do that?”
Jacob grabbed her hand again and pulled. “Guns,” he said, “they have guns.”
Mia had heard the word before, but she only had a vague idea of what the weapons truly were.
“How?”
They were running when Jacob responded.
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” The strain showed in his legs. He leaned forward, trying to force himself to keep moving. “We have to make it to them.”
Mia and Jacob were a few feet away before the first of the new arrivals spoke.
“Move your asses,” he yelled behind a scarf wrapped around most of his face. “Maddox, you and Arron get to the front.” Two of the men at the end of the row pushed into the grass without question. “We’ll move the entire group out to the last rally point before we stop again.”
Mia wasn’t sure what to think, but neither the speaker nor any of the others gave her time to reconsider. The rest of the team stepped into the grass and disappeared. Jacob slowed as he neared the boundary. The speaker lowered the barrel of his rifle and pulled the scarf down around his neck. The youthful face hidden underneath surprised Mia.
“My name’s Connor Weaks,” he announced with more bass in his voice than his face would otherwise suggest.
“You’ve got two names?” she asked.
A grin slid across his face.
“Just Connor will do,” he replied. “Is there any more of your group?”
Mia struggled to find a response, still locked on the young man’s eyes.
“Only the survivors in the grass,” Jacob cut in.
Connor nodded.
“Then we’ll take it from here.”
Mia wasn’t sure where they were going, but for the moment she felt safer than she had in a long time.
15
The night’s sky spilled darkness across the tall grass of the outlands. A growing chill in the air pierced the thickest of coverings. Winter was a difficult time in and around Cheyenne; however, it was much too early in the season for the inevitable snowfall to begin. Rowan took slow, determined steps. He managed to wrap Garret’s wounded leg well enough to help him keep what little strength remained.
Neither Rowan nor Garret knew where they were going. The massive army of the dead was far ahead. The constant swaying of the grass pointed out the path that the horde was on, but it gave no hint at their destination. Rowan was singularly focused. He knew he’d never get another look at the survivors stabled down in the undead valley beyond the forest, but he was hopeful he could find out who was being herded by the infected group leading the dead.
“We’ve got to eat soon,” Garret whispered.
Rowan nodded and then considered the implications. He knew the dead wouldn’t need to stop, but the infected could not march forever.
“I don’t want to get stuck out here in the open,” Garret added.
Rowan couldn’t argue with that. “We could try and reach the trees,” he said. “Whenever they stop.” If they stop, he thought. “I wish there was a way,” he lifted himself up on his tiptoes and looked across the top of the field, “that we could get a look at those survivors.”
“We’re not even certain they were survivors,” Garret reminded him.
That too was true. Rowan was more hopeful than anything else, and apparently he was more hopeful that Garret as well. The two tribesmen couldn’t be more opposite from one another. Garret had always been filled with a self-assurance that reminded Rowan of Darian.
Rowan kept walking, now angling their direction toward the wood line on the distant side of the field. A full moon lighted the way between the high-grass. The pale light produced looming shadows that appeared to reach out from in-between the tall cottonwood trees. The remaining walk took twice as long to cover, mostly because of Rowan’s instance on stopping every few steps to rise up and ensure the shifting mass was still moving ahead of them. Garret leaned against a tree and kept his eyes on Rowan, waiting for the next set of directions.
“We could move much faster within the woods,” Rowan said. “If you’re up for it.”
Garret nodded, but Rowan wasn’t convinced. They took a few minutes to rest and sip the water from Rowan’s pouch. Garret was first to start moving again. Rowan let him take the lead.
The woods were easier to traverse, although the moonlight faded under the canopy. It didn’t take long for the sounds of the stomping mass of undead to reach the alert ears in the woods. Rowan tapped Garret on the shoulder and brought them to a stop. A wide array of twinkling stars filled the heavens above the open grassland. Rowan looked back in the direction they'd come, searching for the familiar outline of buildings long behind them. The moment was so profound that he couldn’t stop a question from escaping his lips.
“What are we going to do?”
Garret gave the question considerable thought before settling on his answer with a heavy sigh.
“I think the city belongs to them now,” he said. “If the tribe,” he stopped and then corrected himself, “If what’s left of the tribe is going to survive, it’s not going to be in Cheyenne.”
The sentiment was strong enough to pull Rowan’s attention back to the trek ahead. He took a step forward and a sudden realization froze him in place. The look on Garret’s face told him that he’d felt it too. They whispered the discovery together.
“They stopped.”
The grassland was eerily quiet. The wind blew in across the top of the field from the east. Every blade of grass swayed in a perfect unison, rising and falling with the gentle breeze. The apparent stop of the horde brought a terrifying realization to the forefront as a soft, whimpering cry rose on the wind. Rowan started forward.
“They’re going to feed.”
The sound of the declaration was enough to spur Garret to walk faster. Rowan had no idea what he was about to do, but he was certain that if he and Garret had any hope of saving the few remaining survivors, they would have to do it now. They crept along as fast as their terrified minds would allow. The slow crawl came to a stop when the distinct sound of footsteps reached the space between the trees.
Garret brought his finger to his lips and Rowan acknowledged it. They scanned the top of the grass, trying to hone in on the footsteps. Garret found it first. Rowan’s heart stopped when Garret grabbed on to his shirt and pointed. Rowan’s shudder wore off fast enough to find the parting grass only a few feet away.
Garret was moving before Rowan could process what was happening. They stepped in to the grass and Rowan pulled his knife from his belt with one hand then reached out and grabbed onto Garret’s belt with the other. They took several long strides in unison before coming to a stop. Rowan took a knee and waited. Garret leaned back and whispered in his ear.
“What now?”
The question came with a certain dose
of shock on its own. Garret’s inquiry let him know that he was expecting Rowan to come up with a plan. Rowan held still and waited. The footsteps drew closer, joined by a deep gasping breath. It took a moment for Rowan to recognize the quiet sobs buried beneath the breathing. He got down on both knees and pushed the grass aside. The dark silhouette of a frail frame leaned against one of the trees at the edge of the woods. A pair of bulging eyes locked onto him and Rowan rushed out into the open as a woman opened her mouth.
“Wait,” he said, trying to whisper and yell at the same time. “Don’t scream.”
She kept her mouth open, but a realization that the figure rushing toward her wasn’t going to eat her hit her mind a moment before the shriek escaped. Rowan heard Garret step out behind him and his appearance nearly caused the woman to go through with her cry.
“He’s with me,” Rowan explained.
Garret came to a stop at Rowan’s side. Neither of them recognized the woman. She didn’t yell but her mouth remained open as she slid down the tree trunk and landed on her butt. They let her catch her breath until she was ready to say something.
“Where am I?”
“Cheyenne,” Garret said.
Her head shot up.
“God. I didn’t know how far we’d come.”
“We who?” Rowan asked.
“My tribe,” she said. “We’re from Denver.”
Rowan knew the name, but he wasn’t sure he could point it out on a map if he had to.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Erin.”
“I’m Rowan, that’s Garret.”
“We have to get out of here,” she said getting back to her feet. “They’re going to find us.”
“Were you part of that group of survivors the infected were marching?”
Erin flipped the bangs of her stringing brown hair behind her ears as her eyes went from Rowan to the view of the grassland behind them. He waited for a response but his patience wore thin.
“We’re looking for someone,” he said. “Another girl and her little brother.” He waited again for a response that didn’t come. “Do you know all of the other survivors in the group?”
Tribes Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 1) Page 13
