He grabbed Jonah by the collar and the boy spun around ready to strike. Jonah’s mind made a recognition a split second before he slammed his fist into Rowan’s jaw. There was no time to speak, Rowan flung the boy into motion and turned himself as he did. They were running a moment later down the center of the snow-covered street, the pack of infected close behind and the mass of dead beyond them.
“Stay out in front of me.”
The order was unnecessary. Rowan took a few steps and realized Jonah was as fast as him. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what they were going to do. They could outrun the dead, he was sure, but they would never outlast the infected. It didn’t take him long to realize they were going to have to make a stand.
The surrounding buildings came and went at a blur and before they knew it they were out in the open. Rowan’s mind was swirling too fast to figure if they were running in the right direction. Panic rose up into his chest as he fought to remain in control. His heart thundered in his ears. Bale was yelling something, but he couldn’t make it out, instead he locked on to Bree motioning toward a large outcropping of trees. She veered off toward them and Rowan knew in an instant what she meant to do.
The infected did not move well in close quarters. Their infection caused their limbs to twitch and spasm erratically. The crammed space among the dense woods would slow them down. It wasn’t much, but Rowan figured it might be enough to keep them alive. He shouted out his final order as the shadow of the trees swept over them.
“Fire your bows, then go.”
The instructions were followed to the letter, each of them spinning around at the wood line and releasing several shots at the advancing infected before plunging into the underbrush. Rowan was the last to fire. His eyes widened when he realized the pack were within arm’s reach. He got one shot off before he was forced to drop his bow and pull the long knife from his belt.
He backed into the woods as the infected rushed in after him. Only three remained, the others lying dead out in the snow. The mob of undead were still making their way out beyond the buildings. Rowan prepared himself and brought his knife up ready to strike.
The infected burst into the woods shrieking out in their foul dead-speak. One of them locked on to Rowan and charged directly toward him. There was no time to strike without absorbing the impact, so Rowan did the next best thing. He waited until he could feel the breath of the infected man then dropped down, bending at the waist. The man’s momentum kept him moving forward and Rowan drove his shoulder into his gut and stood straight up. The result sent the infected man into the air, flipping once, then slamming into the tree behind them.
Rowan spun around and dropped to his knee as the infected man tried to get up. Lines of spit gushed from his jaws as he bit at the air. Dark stains of dried blood covered his neck and the top of his frayed shirt. Rowan’s move was quick, plunging his knife into the infected man’s throat. A hard pull ripped the blade out one side almost slicing the head clean off in the process.
Rowan was up, but before he could gather his senses he was knocked back to the ground as something bowled into him from behind. He heard the nefarious growl as his face struck the frozen ground. The hit blurred his vision but his instincts kept him moving. Rowan rolled on to his back a moment before another of the infected leapt down on top of him. The impact forced the air from his lungs and knocked the knife from his hand. Rowan lay defenseless as the vile woman wrapped both hands around his face and leaned in for the kill.
The golden hue of her eyes held Rowan in place, the sheer terror shocking his senses. He felt the tug of her teeth against the side of his throat. The moment the pressure of the bite began, it stopped. The infected woman’s full weight came down on his chest and it took him a moment to realize she’d stop moving.
The haze cleared from his eyes then he pushed up and rolled the woman’s lifeless body to one side. Blood spurted from a sizable wound in the side of her head. Bree leaned over the body and gave her another stab for good measure. Bale was behind her, the last of the infected at his feet.
Rowan sat up on his butt then took Jonah’s outstretched hand. He found his knife and slid it back into his belt as Gabriel and Tate stepped out from behind the trees. They were all smiling at him and he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of their enjoyment of the situation. Rowan took a deep gulp of air and focused on Jonah. He pulled him close and relayed a new and important instruction.
“Don’t tell your sister.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael W. Garza often finds himself wondering where his inspiration will come from next and in what form his imagination will bring it to life. The outcomes regularly surprise him and it's always his ambition to amaze those curious enough to follow him and take in those results. He hopes that everyone will find something that frightens, surprises, or simply astonishes them.
www.mwgarza.com
The Decaying World Saga (Book 1): Tribes of Decay Page 28
