Season Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 2) (2 page)

2

Mia was frustrated. It was a state she’d become used to over the past few months. The celebration of the newly formed Tribe of Canaan was short lived. Her role quickly changed from a sword-toting hero to a sleep-deprived administrator.

In truth, her frustration didn’t rest with the council members currently arguing over supply restrictions. Mia wanted to know where Rowan was. He’d grown more distant with every tribal meeting he was asked to attend, until he stopped showing up. To make matters worse, Mia’s younger brother Jonah followed him around, mimicking everything he did. She was convinced that her problems were too much for any seventeen year old to deal with.

Mia closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. The view of the room came back to her and she allowed herself to focus on the tribe’s current predicament. The conference room was more or less in the same state it had been prior to Mia setting off the compound’s defense system. The half dozen underground hive-structures were left in various states of destruction. Under the council’s guidance, the surviving tribal members, along with some of the former soldiers and residents who were allowed to stay, had managed to rebuild some semblance of life. Winter, however, was pushing their new found, fragile existence to the brink.

“Are you all right?”

Asher’s whispered question caused Mia to shake. He slid his fingers gently over her wrists to get her attention. She looked at him and smiled.

“Yes,” she said. “I guess my mind is somewhere else today.”

“You need to sleep,” he said in a familiar show of concern. “These problems will still be here when you get up.”

Mia’s smile widened. She scanned the faces of the dozen or so council members sitting around the table. Most of them were too absorbed in the ongoing debate to notice her side conversation. Mia felt a twinge of guilt ride up the back of her neck. Asher had been an engineer for the commission that once ruled the compound at Canaan like a military fortress. He’d had to explain to her what that title meant. Her limited knowledge of the old world often left her confused when interacting with those who’d grown up in and around the compound. Asher was a few years older than her, but his slight frame hid the difference in age. The constant look of contemplation frozen on his face only cracked for her. She’d begun to lean on him more and more for assistance with tribal matters and she had an inkling that Rowan had taken note of that too.

“Please,” she said rising up from her seat. “I believe we all know there are more pressing matters than this at hand.” The room went silent, everyone turning to face her. Mia retook her seat. “Marcus, if you would.” She motioned at an empty chair midway around the table, and the man dressed in the former guards attire of full black fatigues stepped away from the door and took the seat. “Please give us your report.” As head of the scout teams, Marcus’ accounts were as important to the council as the daily ration tally.

“We were twelve days out, south by southwest,” he began, his eyes swinging around the table from left to right. “And we saw the horde of the dead for ourselves.”

There was a gasp in the room from a majority of the members, but Mia managed to keep her emotions in check. The outbursts caught Marcus by surprise and he looked to her for guidance.

“Please continue,” she said.

“I can confirm the information we received from the wanderers we encountered a month ago,” he explained in no uncertain terms. “The horde is moving directly toward us. I’ve positioned a team on the southern border of Cheyenne. Once the horde is in their sights,” he shook his head, “we’ll have a few days at best.”

Mia nodded. The gesture was enough for Marcus to consider his task complete and remove himself from the room. She waited until he reached the hall before addressing the council. The news was difficult to swallow and it meant all of their other petty concerns were of little consequence. The glow of the sporadically placed lanterns and candles around the room was a strong reminder of why they couldn’t hide out in their underground hives until the horde passed them by.

“I believe this narrows our options on a way forward,” Mia said. “If we can’t get access to hive five and get the generators back on, there will be no way to close off the topside access points.” Sometimes, she impressed herself with her growing lexicon of old world technology. She didn’t have the slightest idea of how most of the devices they spoke about worked. “I don’t see how there’s any other way.” Her assertion threw the group into an instant debate.

“We should leave now.”

The shout was not as shocking as it once was. Hinnick was a towering man and once a member of the Denver tribe, when there were still living people in Denver. His need to be the first to speak in any argument was well known to the rest of the tribal council. Mia had learned to deal with him, but her tolerance only went so far.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

The smooth response came from Hinnick’s usual adversary. Walker was a stark contrast to Hinnick in every way. His cleanly shaven head and dark brown skin appeared to purposefully standout against Hinnick’s shoulder-length dreadlocks and pasty white complexion. Mia admired Walker’s resolve, never losing his temper in any situation. His selection as the representative from the safe sector was for obvious reasons.

“Let’s try and remain calm,” Mia said, urging the two to retake their seats. “I did not mean that we have no choice on how to go forward, but I do think this limits what we can and can’t do.”

The two men eyed one another a moment longer before sitting down. Mia tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going in a more peaceful manner. The oldest member of the council spoke up before she could continue.

“We have to do what is best for everyone,” Sara said. “With such little time, we will need to decide quickly then put all of our efforts into ensuring the safety of this tribe.”

Sara was like a second mother to Mia. She’d been an integral part of the formation of the tribe and its council. Mia looked around the room and watched Sara’s words do their part. She waited until the hovering sense of confrontation dissipated.

“Then let’s get to it.”

♦

“How are you going to convince Walker that he’ll need to evacuate?”

Asher’s question was a good one. The council meeting ended without much success. Mia was happy there was no more yelling, but getting them all to agree felt beyond her reach. She looked over her shoulder to make sure none of the other council members was within earshot. It had become customary for her to confide in Asher after the daily assembly and today was no different. The young engineer carried a candle near his waist, the soft glow of the light providing a view of the long hall back to their personnel quarters.

“It won’t be easy,” Mia admitted then let out a long sigh. “The people of the safe sector barely listen to a word the council says.”

The safe sector was a name given to a select group of survivors within hive three. The tribal council initially believed they’d all died after the detonation of the compound’s defense system. It took a month to dig out the underground connection tunnels between hives four and three and then it was discovered that not only were the people within the safe sector alive, but they still had power.

The initial encounter nearly started a war. The people of the safe sector had lived within their elaborate protected-shelter for decades, most of them never knowing what it was like to go above ground. Their history contained minor details about the infection that wiped out most of the people on earth and they knew nothing of the walking dead. They still didn’t believe the commission that once ruled the entire Canaan compound and all its hives played a part in manipulating them and were using other survivors as slave labor or worse.

“Walker is more open to outside information than he was when he became a member of the council,” Asher said. “I think he trusts you.”

Mia wasn’t so sure.

“I still believe the only true way to convince him is to get him to go topside and see for himself.” Even as she said it, Mia knew it was practically impossible. The people of the safe sector had developed their own pseudo-religious view of the world above ground. “The truth is they don’t need to go.”

“If we’re going to act like we’re all a part of the same tribe,” Asher said, “then we have to make decisions in that manner.” The frustration in his voice was easy to hear. “If they want to stay here and die in their ignorance, then so be it.”

The remark was particularly harsh for Asher, but Mia knew the aggravation was still holding on from the meeting. He had a calming effect on her and it humored her to see him out of sorts. She grinned.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said, correcting himself. “We’ll do our part to show them that they can’t survive here alone. If we could just get access to the generators.”

“We still have time,” she reminded him. “We’ll hold on as long as we can.” The familiar response was growing more difficult to use by the day. Life within the underground society was difficult. Mia and the other survivors from the various tribes went topside often to remind themselves that they could. She longed to return to the life she had before her tribe’s home, high on the rooftops in Cheyenne, were overrun by the infected and her people marched off to be fed upon like cattle.

They reached the end of the hall and were met with the dancing glow of another light headed in their direction from around the bend ahead. The subtle sound of conversation followed the light and the moment they made the turn, the wider passage came alive. Open doorways lined either side running the length of the corridor. The main housing area of hive one was packed to capacity.

Cot-filled open bays buzzed with the sound of afternoon conversation. Natural light flooded the farthest end of the hall from a crater in the ceiling in the room beyond. The crater, and more importantly, the inoperative boundary doors at the end of the hall, was a constant reminder that Canaan could not be secured without power. There were a number of similar openings to the surface throughout the ground floor, all of them easy entry points for the infected and the horde of undead they were leading directly toward Canaan.

“Do you have any rations left for the day?” Asher asked as they reached the entrance to Mia’s shared quarters. “I have plenty left over if you want to share.”

Mia came to a stop and they found themselves in the center of the hall standing close to one another.

“I couldn’t,” she said.

“No, I insist,” Asher said. “You worry enough as it is. You won’t do us any good if you don’t have your strength.”

Mia was about to give in when her eyes drifted over his shoulder into the wide room behind him. Asher’s neatly made cot was closest to the door and it stood a stark contrast to the disheveled cot setting across from it. The mess belonged to Rowan and the view reminded Mia that she wanted to know where in the hell he was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, refocusing on Asher. “I’m not feeling that well. I think I need to get some fresh air.”

Asher pursed his lips. Mia could practically read his thoughts. She guessed he was deciding if he should push the idea any further. Mia let him off the hook.

“I’ll take some time to myself,” she said. “It should help me clear my head.”

Asher smiled. He nodded as he kept his grin then offered a slight wave before turning and heading toward his cot.

Mia breathed a sigh of relief. She was finding it increasingly difficult to turn Asher away. She wasn’t sure if she should be mad at herself or not. She decided to try to focus on more important issues. Mia glanced at the flurry of movement in the female quarters, before heading for the far end of the hall. She could feel the cold air drifting past her face when a familiar voice called after her.

“You shouldn’t go up there alone.”

“Will you come with me?” Mia asked as she turned and reached a hand out for Sara. “I think the air will do us both some good.”

The elderly tribal woman was wrapped up tight in a familiar handmade shawl. The patchwork wrap was a reminder of the harsh existence she’d endured at the hands of Canaan’s commission prior to their liberation by Mia, Rowan, and many others. The shawl looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Mia offered her arm to Sara as the two passed through the archway and out into the open. The duo made their way up the mounds of rock and chunks of the ceiling that acted as a makeshift stairway.

The snow painted a pristine picture, covering the surrounding hills in a blanket of white. Mia tried not to think of the destruction and death hidden beneath the blanket. The two women took in the scene in silence. Mia’s mind shifted back to Rowan when Sara spoke up.

“I don’t see any other way around this.”

Mia knew at once, where the conversation was going.

“We can’t make them do anything,” she said. “We’re not even the majority.”

Mia’s position within Canaan’s tribal council represented the people of hive one. Sara held the same position. Mia’s status as the heroine that helped to free all of the slave workers and end the reign of the commission gave her significant influence over the others. She’d begun to loathe her distinction as a savior.

Mia’s sway, however much power it offered, did not change the fact that hive one was the smallest of all the surviving hives. Most of the lower levels within the hive were unreachable, and for all anyone knew, everyone buried beneath the third floor was dead. A majority of the levels of hives two and four survived the compound’s security system detonation and their surviving population was significantly higher. Hive three didn’t have housing units and it wasn’t until the safe sector’s rediscovery that they were included in Canaan’s total count.