Tribes Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 1)

by Michael W. Garza

  Jonah met Mia in the archway leading out to the platform and the two wrapped their arms around one another. Mia was overcome with a joy she never imagined she would feel again. Jonah buried his face into her shirt and wept loudly as she rubbed her fingers through his hair. She had to push him away to get him to back up. Mia looked down at his swollen, red eyes and it nearly crippled her.

  “How did you get here?”

  Jonah’s answer knocked the wind out of her.

  “Rowan saved me.”

  “Rowan?” She said the name like it was foreign to her. It was something she thought she’d never say aloud again. “He’s alive?”

  “Yes,” Jonah exclaimed. “He and Garret are here too.”

  It was difficult for Mia to process the information. A stream of whispered ramblings slipped from her lips as she tried to find a place for it in her head.

  “Alive…here…I can’t.” She finally hit her mark and found the question she was searching for. “Where are they now?”

  Jonah shook his head. “I don’t know for sure,” he said. “I escaped, but they were stuck in some place. There was a fight and a doctor,” he interrupted himself, “and this lady we found, they infected her.”

  Mia decided that the where and the how might be beyond her brother’s grasp of the situation. She locked eyes with Agnes and quickly decided that her way forward hadn’t changed. Her best chance at escape lied with the remaining tribes locked away in the bowels of the chamber below them. She took Jonah by the hand and turned to face the others.

  “Lead the way.”

  The group grew in a short time, nearly doubling in size before Agnes made her way to the front. The expanding mass of people added details to the confusing story, helping to piece together where the soldiers were going. By the time Mia stepped out onto the ground floor of the cavern, she was pretty sure she knew what was happening topside. Inputs from Jonah filled in the gaps. None of it prepared her for her first glimpse of the internment area.

  A cage rose up from the ground floor two stories high, stretching all the way to the other side of the cavern. Walkways crisscrossed the top of the enormous cage, dotted with strategic posting locations. The posts were abandoned, the soldiers nowhere to be found. Mia peered through the bars at the paltry fixtures that made up the interior village. Heads peeked out from small huts at the approaching group. Agnes brought them to the entrance gate and the flaw in their plan hit the older woman the moment the access panel came into view.

  “How do we get in?” Mia asked.

  Jonah interrupted before anyone could reply.

  “I have this,” he held up Himu’s access card and offered it to Agnes. “It’s not mine,” he admitted.

  Agnes took it and slipped it across the front of the panel. A green light highlighted the controls and the gate slid open.

  “Aren’t you a blessing,” Agnes said before handing it back to him. “Let’s be quick.”

  The group pushed through the opening in a routinely formed line, each one glancing up at the vacant position directly above the entrance. Mia got in line, watching the expanding assembly empty out of the huts to meet the new arrivals. A slow murmur of trepidation washed over the crowd as they realized something was very wrong.

  A number of men and women worked their way through the crowd, gathering at the front. Agnes approached them and began a heated conversation in hushed tones. The crowd continued to swell until Mia couldn’t imagine the full number. Their faces were as varied as the specks of sand on a beach. She never would have believed so many tribes endured in a world that only consisted of Cheyenne a few days prior.

  “We debate the few petty decisions the soldiers allow us to decide for ourselves,” Agnes said, stepping away from the smaller gathering. “This group is comprised of the remaining council members from each of the tribes, myself included.”

  “Do they know what’s happening?” Mia asked.

  “Word has spread about an attack on Canaan,” Agnes said. “An attack by a horde of dead and infected the likes this world has never seen.”

  An older man from the council members bowed his cleanly shaven head as he approached.

  “Your rush to freedom may be nothing more than an assured death for all of us,” he said.

  “You’d rather stay here?” Mia asked.

  “I’d rather live,” he countered.

  The resistance surprised Mia.

  “This cage could be our last defense,” Agnes said in a tone more apologetic than defiant.

  Something in the old woman’s words struck Mia with profound importance. It took her a moment to place it, but in the end it was Connor’s voice that filled in the blanks. It’s part of our defense system, he’d said. In case we ever lose the compound. Her resolve hardened.

  “What if there was another way?” she asked. “A way to destroy the attacking horde?”

  The old man started to rebut the idea, but Agnes cut him off.

  “We’ll listen, but we do not control these people,” she said motioning out over the substantial collection of tribesmen. “It will be up to you to convince them to follow.”

  Mia felt they were out of time. She realized most of them were terrified, as terrified as she’d been about leaving her tribe behind to run off with Rowan. The remnants of her tribe were locked away somewhere else underneath Canaan, if they were still alive at all. She had to make them see that they were all now a single tribe. Her gaze went to her brother as she gathered her thoughts. Jonah looked back at her with complete confidence in his eyes.

  “You can do this,” he said then squeezed her hand. “I believe you can do anything.”

  Mia couldn’t stop herself from grinning at him. She squeezed back then let his hand go. It took her a moment to find the courage to step up in front of the crowd. Mia looked out at the multitudes, each of them waiting for her to give them a reason to hope. She took one last breath before the swell in her heart sparked life into the words she needed to say.

  “We’ve all lost so much.” The murmuring came to a sudden stop as her voice rose above them. “Our families, our tribes, and everything we’ve ever known. You’ve been fighting for your lives every day that you’ve been here and I’m asking you to continue that fight with me. If we stay here, locked away in this cage, death will find us for sure. It doesn’t matter if it comes from the infected, the walking dead, or the soldiers who threw us in here.”

  She pointed at the open gate and her voice soared.

  “You have a chance, we have a chance. We may die in this fight, but we’ll fight together for our freedom. We’ll fight together for a chance to feel the sun on our faces in the morning light. Fight with me. Fight with me as one people. Fight with me and we will free this united Canaan tribe once and for all.”

  ♦

  Rowan braced for conflict. The elevator door slid open and he was greeted by a faint hum and a wide, dim hall void of movement. He pushed Himu out of the elevator then helped Garret stagger into the hall. The elevator door closed the moment they stepped out and Rowan guessed the next time it opened that it wouldn’t be empty.

  “How much further?” he asked, grabbing a hold of Himu’s arm before he could get away from him.

  Himu tugged against the grip, but stayed put. “The entrance to the containment area is at the end of this corridor,” he looked back, “but you’re far too late.”

  Rowan made sure Garret was ready then shoved Himu, ignoring his barb.

  “Get going.”

  The corridor bent slightly ahead with a single door on the exterior side. They reached the peak of the bend before the entrance to the containment area came into view at the far end.

  “Where’s this door lead?” Rowan asked as Himu tried to continue as if it wasn’t there.

  “It’s just an administrative passage,” he said and attempted to keep walking, but Rowan pulled him back. “It leads up to the first of several warehouse and storage levels. It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, “the door can�
��t be opened without an access card and if you’ll remember, I don’t have one anymore. So, unless you’re going to convince one of the soldiers to give you theirs, you can’t open it.”

  Rowan gave in and started forward. The entrance to the containment area covered the entire far end of the passage. They came to a stop in front of a control panel inlaid in the wall beside the entrance. Garret teetered as they stopped then collapsed where he was. Rowan forced Himu to his knees then turned his full attention to Garret.

  “You got to get up,” he said. “We can’t get stuck out here.”

  Garret looked up at him with eyes as black as night. The blood had drained from his face, producing a disturbing vision of the infection raging inside his body.

  “I’m done for,” he said.

  Rowan inspected the panel’s controls. Several small lights blinked to life. His education didn't allow him to decipher the writing above each of the controls.

  “Get it open,” he said then pushed Himu to act. “Get it open, now.”

  “What’s the point, you barbarian?” Himu asked as he got to his feet. “You’ve cornered yourself. The soldiers will follow you down and finish you off. What does it matter if it’s out here in the hall or inside there?”

  Rowan slipped one hand under Garret’s arm and forced him to stand. He used the wall to assist him then held the knife out where Himu could see it.

  “Then what do I need you for?”

  Himu’s eyes widened as he looked down at the blade. He kept his mouth shut and typed on the panel. The process didn’t take long. Himu announced his completion by taking a few steps back and gazing at the door. The center split opened at a slow, but steady pace. A familiar sound crept from the opening in the door the moment it parted. The moans made the hair on Rowan’s neck stand on end. A familiar stench followed the sounds. The dead were close.

  Rowan ordered Himu to help Garret walk then kept the two of them in front of him as they entered. The interior of the containment area was as large as the holding section he and the others were thrown into upon their arrival. The view from the entrance platform looked down on a floor space comprised of dozens of individual cells, each crammed full with flesh-hungry zombies.

  The dead broke into a chorus of moaning desire at the sight of fresh meat. Hands slipped between the bars of every cell, reaching out toward the entrance. The dead pressed in on one another with such force that the bodies tore from the pressure against the bars. The full sight of it caused Rowan to pause as he tried to control the horror racing through his views.

  An extensive row divided the containment area in half. Two figures moved between racks of towering equipment lining both sides of the central column. The wide-shouldered body easily identified one of the figures as Dr. Olric; however, the other was something altogether different. A long pole linked the two together. One side of the controlling device ended at a strap, firmly lashed around the throat of what appeared to be a young boy.

  Rowan started running before he knew what he was doing. The eyes of the dead followed him as he circled the chamber, lashing out at him as he past. His mind told him that the boy couldn’t be Jonah, but he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to shake the fear that he might lose him again. It wasn’t until he reached the midpoint of the containment area and started down the stairs into the central row that Dr. Olric caught sight of him.

  Rowan leapt down the stairs and dashed between the equipment. He came to a sliding stop with Dr. Olric’s escort staring him dead in the face. The boy that once controlled the mind of this monstrosity was long gone. It looked at Rowan with pitch-black eyes, its lips parting slowly, revealing the mangled lines of skin and muscle connecting the jawbones underneath.

  Dr. Olric forced the zombie boy forward with a jab on the pole and it swiped at Rowan. The dance continued as Rowan lunged one way and then sprinted off quickly to the opposite side. The doctor backed away, approaching the far end of the central row. One look told Rowan that the door to the safe passage lay a few steps behind him. Lights sprang to life within a tunnel beyond the door continuing down a wide shaft. Dr. Olric stepped through the opening and pulled the boy back with him.

  “Burn in hell, insect,” Dr. Olric yelled. He reached for something out of view inside the tunnel and the doors began to close. “This is the end for you, my friend.”

  Rowan didn’t have time to think. He jumped toward the tunnel and the boy reached out for him. Rowan grabbed the zombie’s hands and pulled back. Dr. Olric erupted in a livid shriek as the doors slammed closed, severing the pole between him and his creature. Rowan hit the ground on his back, the undead boy landing on top of him, knocking his knife out of his hand.

  The pungent smell of death engulfed Rowan, saturating his insides with every panting breath. He shoved his forearm between him and the boy and tried to roll him off. The undead child grabbed two handfuls of Rowan’s shirt and pulled himself in closer for a taste. The boy grew animated as his feast lashed underneath him. A wave of endless moans rose to a heightened madness as the eyes of the undead spectators drove toward a flesh-lustful frenzy.

  Rowan slipped one leg out from under the boy then rotated his body. The move ended with the combatants trading places, but Rowan couldn’t get away. The boy yanked at him with enough force to tear the skin around his decaying forearms. Its tattered remains of clothing showed through to blackened muscle beneath the skin.

  The pit of its mouth opened wide as it lunged up for a bite. Rowan threw his head back a moment before its rotting teeth slammed together, missing him by an eyelash. Rowan slid his arm along its chest, under the chin. The position gave him the advantage he needed to pull away, breaking the creature’s grip.

  A quick scramble brought Rowan to his feet as the boy got up on all fours. Rowan stepped behind him and grabbed a hold of the remaining section of the pole still connected to the leash around its neck. The zombie fought for a moment before accepting its new master. Rowan gathered his bearings and picked his knife up then forced the boy toward the ascending stairs. The pair neared the containment area entrance to find a curious development. Apparently, Himu decided to make his escape when Rowan ran off; Garret, however, had other plans.

  “I thought you’d left us,” Garret said looking up from the floor. He was on top of Himu with one arm wrapped around the assistant’s neck and the other latched to one of his arms. “And you found a friend.” Garret managed a smile before he broke into a coughing fit that ended with blood spraying from his mouth. His spasm forced him to release his grip, allowing Himu to slip away.

  “Get up,” Rowan ordered. “We have to find another way out of here.” His thoughts were on Jonah, but he didn’t know where else to look. “How do the soldiers get topside?”

  “The main elevators you imbecile. I already told…” Himu stood up and turned around enough to see Rowan’s new friend then he lost track of his insult. His eyes opened wider than his face could support. “The nexus.”

  “What?” Rowan asked. “This thing?” He shoved the pole and the zombie stepped dangerously close to Himu. The assistant stumbled back, tripping over Garret. The result left him lying on the ground, staring up at the boy. “What’s so special about this one?”

  The answer crept from Himu as if he was afraid to say it aloud.

  “He’s the first, patient zero.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure he fully understood the significance of what he heard.

  “First of what?”

  Himu got up on his hands and knees and continued his stunned response.

  “…the infection, the undead, everything.”

  The impact struck Rowan between the eyes. He glared at the decaying boy with renewed fascination.

  “This…this boy, how?”

  Himu stood up and faced the two of them. “That’s what the colony was originally designed to do,” he explained. “All of the colonies were in search of a cure.”

  “A cure.” Rowan said it but he couldn’t believe it. “How’s that possible?”<
br />
  “It’s not,” Himu said, plainly. “At least no one believed it was for a long time. Once the colonies turned on one another, we were left to our own devices,” his gaze ran the length of the rotting boy, “but we had him.”

  “A lot of good that did you,” Rowan said.

  “These things take time,” Himu insisted, suddenly insulted by the remark. “The work went on for decades. Great minds spent their entire lives in search of the answer. In the end, Mother Nature has played her part. Evolution always finds a way.”

  The idea danced around Rowan’s mind, crystalizing in something Jacob had said.

  “You’re talking about pureblood.”

  Himu smiled at him.

  “You are one of them, aren’t you,” he said with a peculiar glee. “I knew from the moment I saw the sample, the mix of you two.” His smile widened and he pointed at the boy. “Kindred spirits I would say.” A sudden, renewed fear over took him. “That’s why they’ll come back for him,” he paused, “and you.” He slid his hands together at his waist. “It’s a pity you’ll already be dead. The soldiers will get in here and shoot everything that moves.”

  Rowan turned his attention to the cages. The decaying figures were stirred up in a rage. His focus went back to the entrance. Rowan maneuvered the undead boy back in the direction they’d come.

  “I don’t plan on staying here.” He jostled the pole and the boy started forward. “Help Garret up and get over here. You’ve got work to do.”

  24

  Mia’s plea was enough to sway a majority of the tribe. The rhetoric of her call to arms swept the crowd, building as those with enough courage to fight echoed her plan. They wouldn’t have another chance. If they hoped to gain their freedom, they would have to do it now. The multitudes armed themselves with whatever makeshift weapons they could find.

  “The central elevators will rise to the first floor,” Agnes explained. “There’s a security station across from the main elevator tube in each of the hives.”

  “And those main elevators are the only way to get topside?” Mia asked.