Tribes Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 1)

by Michael W. Garza

  She appeared to snap back from somewhere else and shook her head.

  “They kept us in different stalls,” she said. “Most of my family was eaten, the others infected.”

  Rowan didn’t want to hear the rest, but Erin’s tale confirmed his need to act.

  “Come on,” he said then grabbed her by the hand. “Show us where they’re keeping them.”

  Erin snatched her hand away from him.

  “I can’t find it in the dark and there’s no way I’m going back anyway,” she said as she started to walk away. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

  Garret reached for her but missed.

  “What about the others?”

  She continued to back away, replying much too loud for Rowan’s comfort.

  “I don’t give a damn about them.”

  Erin turned and ran deeper into the woods.

  “Should we go after her?” Garret asked.

  Rowan shook his head.

  “Let her go. We’ve got bigger problems.”

  ♦

  The sound washing over the tops of the grass produced a terrible mental picture. The feeding had begun. Rowan fought the urge to rush forward, sure that it would quickly lead to his demise. He and Garret moved north inside the woods until the sounds of the infected and the dead were close enough to steal their breaths.

  Rowan and Garret were down on their knees. Their long knives felt worthless against the size of the decaying mass out in the grassland. Garret moved far enough away from the trees that he could reach out and touch the grass. Rowan joined him and they waited for the courage to go any further.

  “This is as close as I can guess.” Garret’s whispers were so light that his lips had to touch Rowan’s ear for him to hear his words. “We go in here.”

  They guessed from their last view of the survivors that they were being kept in a tight group. They used the sounds as their guide. The dead didn’t whimper. The infected didn’t cry. Those sounds were reserved for the terrified living. Garret turned his head to talk and Rowan felt his lips tremble against his ear.

  “We have to stay close if there’s any chance of us getting out alive.”

  The plan was terrible, but neither of them could come up with a better one. There was no telling when the infected would force the dead to move again. The need for a quick response drove a plan that guaranteed conflict. The only hope for success was getting through one side of the line of dead surrounding the survivors and then relying on the sheer terror of the moment to get the living to run faster than they ever had before. Rowan was up and stepping into the grass before he realized they had no idea what they were going to do after that. He figured it would be a miracle if they got that far.

  The full moon was high in the night sky and the light provided a particularly clear view. Neither the dead nor the infected could technically see in the dark, however the infected compensated with other heightened senses. That knowledge didn’t help Rowan. If they found themselves face to face with the infected, there was little chance they would survive. The only hope of success was getting in and out as quickly as possible.

  Rowan took a series of steps then stopped. Garret slowly moved in close behind him. They waited for several agonizing seconds until they picked up on the subtle sound of crying. Rowan tried to lock on to the delicate sobs and then used it to guide him forward. The slow process continued for several minutes until a new sound brought the duo to a halt.

  Rowan recognized it first and the clutching grab on his shirt told him Garret identified it a heartbeat later. They were shifting steps, awkward and uncoordinated, several pairs slowly moving back and forth. The dead were close. Rowan readjusted his grip on his knife and tried to get his hands to stop shaking. He knew he had to move, but he couldn’t force himself to take another step. Garret shoved him from behind and he resisted. The courage he’d used to go out into the field failed him.

  Garret was around him before Rowan knew it. A sudden rustling in the grass led to their first confrontation. Rowan took a step forward to find Garret’s arms wrapped around the neck of a zombie. The vile thing had a handful of Garret’s hair. Strips of loose skin hung in tatters from a stump that remained of its other arm.

  Garret was attempting to drive his knife into its brain, but the tip of the blade was stuck in the skull. Rowan ran toward them and plunged his knife into its eye as the first note of a calling moan escaped its throat. The attack hit with such force that Garret had to pull away in order to avoid catching the end of Rowan’s knife as it burst from the back of the creature’s head.

  Rowan’s heart thundered in his chest at a ferocious rate. He used the gush of energy to keep himself moving. The whimpering cries of the living were closer than ever before. Three long strides brought them to an unexpected clearing. The survivors lay littered in small groups within the space, lying on the tall grass. The instant recognition of what they’d found was immediately interrupted by the detection of a trolling zombie guarding the spot. A succession of piercing cries led to a panicked response.

  “Run.”

  Rowan didn’t know why he yelled the command, but it was too late to do anything about it. The survivors that still had the strength to move were up and running. All at once, the grassland erupted with a hellacious chorus of dead-speak. The moans of the dead quickly followed as the tall grass came alive with frantic movement.

  Zombies burst into the open space, lashing wildly at the panic-stricken survivors. Rowan only had a moment to search through the faces under the moonlight before he was confronted. A pair of undead women stepped in from the grass, one with its chest split open from the neck to the navel, the other with the bone showing through one side of its face and a half-eaten eyeball bouncing in its exposed socket.

  They were on him before he could do anything about it. Rowan got his hands up before one of them latched its teeth on to the tip of his nose. The other zombie had its arms around him, forcing Rowan to slide his hand inside its exposed cavity, through the opening in its chest. Rowan leaned away to keep from getting bit, but he couldn’t hold back the full weight of both women.

  Searing pain rose up his arm as fingernails ripped into his skin. Rowan pushed his hand deeper into the chest cavity of the zombie forcing itself on him. He launched his fist up through rotten organs and grabbed a hold of its esophagus from the inside. One hard pull snapped its head back and another yank brought the entire lining down and out into the open. She stumbled backwards and the freedom allowed Rowan the opportunity to push the other zombie aside, slashing it across the throat as it went.

  One of the survivors slammed into the gutted zombie and knocked it to the ground. Another survivor slowed down long enough to kick the other zombie in the chest. The impact revealed the depth of Rowan’s attack. Its head fell back at an impossible angle, dangling on its shoulder, hanging on by the spine.

  “Go, go, go.”

  Rowan heard Garret, but couldn’t see him. He took one last look around the clearing. Several of the survivors were down, packs of the dead pouring in on them. Most of those who had the strength to run were already lost somewhere within the tall grass. Rowan spun around, found the distant trees, and started directly toward them.

  The chaos that followed was difficult to process. Screams erupted from every direction as a slow-building surge broke into an enormous wave of dead-speak. The infected were on the move and Rowan knew there was no time to think about what he was doing. Part of him wanted desperately to search for Mia, but he knew their only hope of seeing one another was running away and hiding.

  The grass shifted in frenzied motions as the undead were whipped into a flesh-tasting fury. Figures pushed through the field all around Rowan as he tried to make his escape. He made no attempt to identify friend from foe. He could hear nothing over his own panic-stricken heartbeat and terrified gasps for breath. He popped out of the grass before he realized it and nearly slammed into a tree as he past.

  Rowan kept running and couldn’t
bring himself to stop until the dead-speak was muffled by the distance and the trees. His speed caused his feet to slide in the dirt. There were others running, some further to the north and more in the south. His fear urged him to keep going, but a voice kept him frozen still. The voice wasn’t one he’d expected, but the sound of it nearly brought him to tears.

  “Rowan?”

  16

  “Where are we going?”

  Mia had heard the same question more times than she could count. Sara was one of the oldest survivors. She’d been a close friend of Mia’s mother and held a special place in her heart. Mia didn’t have any more answers than she did the first time the question was asked. She smiled and slipped her arm around Sara’s shoulder.

  “I’ll see if I can find out.”

  Sara returned the smile and nodded. The small group of survivors had taken to looking to Mia for guidance. The role was not one she took lightly. Her hopeful smile was a facade, hiding the pain underneath. Mia didn’t want to lead anyone. All she wanted to do was ball up on the ground and mourn everything she’d loss. As far as she knew, everyone she ever loved was gone. She couldn’t bear to say their names aloud. A whisper from Jacob cut through her painful thoughts.

  “Do you want me to ask this time?”

  The fact that he felt the need to whisper frightened her. Something in her gut told her that she couldn’t trust their apparent saviors and Jacob’s hesitation only heightened her concerns. If he knew something specific about the soldiers, he hadn't yet shared it. The smile slipped from her face and she shook her head. Her father believed in her and she meant to honor him.

  “I’ll do it.”

  The soldiers were spread out around the survivors in a loose circle. They’d relayed a few instructions, but little else in the way of directions or information about their destination. There was no sign of the city or the tall grass boundary now far behind them. Moonlight shined down on an endless scene of rolling hills ahead of the group. Mia had hoped the soldiers would stop for the night, but she was beginning to think that a stronger approach might be the best course of action. She sped up until her stride brought her directly behind the soldier who’d identified himself.

  “Connor.”

  He didn’t turn around.

  “We’re stopping.”

  The declaration was enough to get him to look over his shoulder.

  “Not here.”

  Mia came to a complete stop.

  “I said we’re stopping.”

  She jabbed the tip of her sword into the ground and rested her hands on her hips.

  “Now.”

  The entire group came to a halt. All eyes went to Connor. He spun around and sighed in frustration. He slipped his rife over his shoulder and looked around at their faces before settling on Mia.

  “We have a schedule to keep,” he said.

  Mia didn’t move. “We have to help the injured,” she said. “And some of these elders can't continue without rest and food.” She glanced at Jacob.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said.

  Connor’s face hardened as Mia pressed the issue.

  “Are we your prisoners?” she asked.

  He stepped toward her and his hands became animated. “We saved you,” he said, obviously louder than he’d intended. “And I’m still trying to save you.”

  He stopped a few feet from her, close enough for Mia to see his tough exterior fall away for a brief moment. The break was enough for her to get a glance at the young man underneath. The sight inexplicably reminded Mia of Rowan and it shook her resolve.

  “I know that,” she said, “and we’re very grateful for you. I’m very grateful.” She wasn’t sure why she added the last part, but it was too late to take it back. Connor’s brow rose despite an attempt to hide his surprise. “We won’t make it if we continue at this pace.”

  Connor pursed his lips then finally nodded. He motioned for one of the other soldiers.

  “We’ll stop here for the night,” he said. “Set up a watch rotation and gather supplies so we can hand out rations.”

  Mia smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’ll have one of my men look at your wounded.”

  Mia nodded.

  “We have about a day’s march,” he said before turning back to his tasks. “We’ll start again at sun up.”

  Most of the tribe’s survivors sat down wherever they stopped. Mia walked through the crowd speaking with each of them as she handed out small portions of the food Connor gave her. She made a mental note of each of the survivor’s condition as she tried to figure out what they were up against. She knew each of their names and for the first time in the past few days she felt a true connection with the tribe.

  Mia sat down at the edge of the group next to Jacob. His eyes were on their escorts. A pair of soldiers started out on a patrol, the remainder settled in a small circle beyond the survivors. Connor relayed their decision to someone over his radio. The voice on the other end confirmed the information then went silent.

  “What’s a matter?” Mia asked, quietly.

  “No one helps people for nothing,” he said.

  “You did.”

  He started to respond then hesitated. “That’s different.” He turned his attention on her. “I want to know where we’re going.”

  “So ask them.”

  “I’m not sure the answer would matter,” he said then took a bite of a piece of dried meat he pulled out of his belt pouch. “How would we know they were telling the truth?”

  “Why are you so worried?”

  “I already told you,” he paused mid-chew, “no one helps people for nothing.”

  “What could they possibly want with us?” Mia asked then poked at the sliced fruit and cheese she received for her portion of the supplies.

  Jacob continued chewing his food.

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  ♦

  “Jonah!”

  The boy slammed into Rowan with such force that both of them hit the dirt and Jonah continued into a roll. They ended up lying on the ground head to head then both of them scrambled to their feet. Rowan tried to get Jonah to keep running, but he didn’t have time to get the words out before he wrapped his arms around him and squeezed with all his might.

  “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure how to respond nor did he have the time to figure it out.

  “Run now.”

  The direction was enough to snap the boy back to the moment. They were running a second later, hand in hand, deeper into the woods. A plethora of sounds flooded the space beneath the canopy all around them. Thunderous steps rose over the dreadful groans of the dead. Screams pierced the chasing stomps of the infected as survivors cried out for help. A woman’s frantic pleas brought Rowan to an abrupt halt.

  “Where’s Mia?”

  Jonah’s feet kept moving even after his hand slipped from Rowan’s.

  “I thought she was with you.” The terror on the boy’s face was nearly complete. “She snuck out,” he explained. “I told her not to go, but she said she was going to find you.”

  “She didn’t come back?” Rowan asked his own fear ever-present in his voice. “Not before the infected attacked?”

  Jonah shook his head. Rowan knew they should keep running, but his mind was lost. He’d convinced himself that Mia was with Jonah. The realization that she wasn’t with her brother filled him with indecision.

  “What do we do?” Jonah pleaded.

  The stomping drew nearer and Rowan gasped as he realized he was holding his breath.

  “Just run.”

  They started off again, this time with Rowan edging to the north. He kept the boundary of the woods in sight, hoping to get out in front of the pursuing horde. They didn’t stop running until Jonah collapsed. Rowan leaned over the boy, his hands on his knees, his breaths deep. His thumping heartbeat lightened enough for him to notice that the sounds of the infected were n
ow behind them.

  “We have to keep moving,” he said. “I think we’ll break out of the woods up ahead.”

  Jonah managed to sit up.

  “Where are we going?”

  Rowan didn’t have an answer.

  “Let’s get somewhere safe and we’ll figure everything else out then.”

  He reached for the boy’s arm and helped him to his feet. They jogged to the edge of the woods, where Rowan held short until he was satisfied with the stillness out in the open. The moon set high in the dark sky and provided enough light to see that the meadow had turned into a wide, hilly landscape.

  Rowan was satisfied to keep moving north. They were too far out in the open to turn back when the first sign of trouble reached them. The shifting figures ran toward them from the east. Rowan knew he and Jonah couldn’t reach the first row of hills before the new arrivals would cross their path.

  “Get down.”

  Rowan’s whisper opened Jonah’s eyes as wide as they could go. Rowan crouched down and Jonah followed by getting on his hands and knees and closing in behind him. Rowan slid his knife into his belt and slipped his bow over his head. He readied one of the last two remaining arrows and waited.

  “Are they coming to get us?” Jonah’s voice shook as he spoke. “Don’t let them eat me.”

  The shadows shifted as the figures moved across the field. The grass was much shorter than it had been closer to the city. It wasn’t long before the approaching pair became clear under the moonlight. They were too fast to be zombies and their movements too fluid to be infected. Rowan put his bow down and stood up.

  “Here,” he said, waving his hands over his head.

  The sudden break in silence startled the approachers. It took them a moment to realize the utterance meant the owner wasn’t hunting them. Their direction shifted and they slowed, now on a direct path toward the signaler. Jonah got to his feet and waited, refusing to step out from behind Rowan. Garret’s voice reached them before the light showed his face.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”