Season Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 2) (3 page)

There were fewer people in the safe sector than any of the other hives but they didn’t need the other hives to survive. The safe sector had working electricity and at least a backup supply of rations. They were also armed and they had the ability to shut themselves off from the outside world. If the horde did invade Canaan, the safe sector could protect themselves without much concern for the rest of the tribe.

“You can help them see the good sense in leaving now while we still can.”

Mia bit her lip. She was in favor of relocating to the city of Cheyenne, and in particular, the old gardens. Mia longed to look upon the city she once called home, but the scout teams had confirmed the infected invasion that forced the Cheyenne tribe out of the city was far from over. She didn’t know what to do.

“Asher’s sure he can get the generators on if we can reach them,” Mia said.

“And how do we guarantee there’s enough time for that?”

Mia didn’t answer. She’d already considered it more times than she could count. She decided to try to let it go for the moment. There would be more than enough debating in the days ahead. Instead, she wrapped her arm around Sara and pulled her close.

Mia needed to let her guard down, there was still only one person she could truly do that with, and once again, she wondered where in the hell he was.

3

The quiet had a way of making the wind feel colder. Rowan felt a sting on his cheeks. He’d been out too long and he knew it. The problem was that he had no desire to start the long trek back to Canaan. A shortage of rations had become a problem. Rowan was convinced that a return to hunting for food was an obvious solution. A majority of the Canaan tribe disagreed.

He never liked referring to them as a tribe. As far as Rowan was concerned, his tribe, the Cheyenne tribe, died the night the infected invaded the rooftop home of his people. He was banned from the tribe by Mia’s father before the traumatic event, but he tried to ignore that part of the story. His aggravation with Mia’s place among the so-called new tribe was something else he couldn’t let go.

“Let’s go down there.”

The whispered words were the first from anyone in the small group following Rowan in quite some time. He was impressed that they’d kept quiet for so long. He was down on one knee, looking out over a sparse group of buildings in the valley below them. The stillness made Rowan uneasy, but he had to be sure.

“Always give them time,” Rowan said, turning to look back at the wide-eyed faces behind him. “The dead can sit still for a long time, the infected not so much.”

“Do we have to head back?” Jonah asked.

He was the youngest of the group at only ten, but he longed to be a leader among them. The other four already had their place in the troop. Bale was the oldest by five years and as solid as an oak tree. Tate was closest to Jonah. Gabriel was the only one among them born within the compound and Bree was the only girl. Rowan quietly believed she could get the better of all of them.

“Not yet,” Rowan said looking up at the sun. “But we can’t risk getting caught out here after dark.”

He’d spent the past several months working his way through the land around Canaan, never knowing what awaited him each time he set out. Mia hated his excursions, so he finally stopped telling her. His best guess told him that he was supposed to be doing something more important at the moment. Rowan’s real concern was making sure each member of his trailing pack made it back in one piece. He took one last look down at the valley then grinned.

“Let’s go.”

♦

Closer inspection revealed there were far more buildings than Rowan counted. Most of the structures had fallen in on themselves, none of them more than a few stories tall. He pointed out directions, working through a series of hand signals he’d learned as a child, attempting to pass them on to the next generation. The formation ended in a line, pressed up against the cold exterior of a building away from the largest cluster of structures. Rowan was hopeful they would spot some game hidden within the decaying shells, using them as shelter.

They moved forward on Rowan’s command, sweeping across the front of the building. Each of them had a bow, a few more skilled than the others. Rowan shied away from the guns the tribe took in as they rediscovered droves of weapons left behind in Canaan. He preferred the armaments of his former people and Jonah followed his example.

Rowan peered through the front broken windowpanes at a long-abandoned front room. He couldn’t imagine it ever being the centerpiece of a family home. A snowdrift covered scattered pieces of ruined furniture. There were no signs of tracks and the discovery helped to calm his nerves. He led them in and the small group gathered around him inside the front door.

“There’s not much here,” Bree said, her eyes on the buildings on the far side of the snow covered road. “Maybe we should start back.”

Rowan considered it. Bree was cautious but by no means a coward. He found himself in a constant struggle between a need to protect the young group and a desire to stay away from Canaan. He looked to the others for confirmation.

“We still have time,” Jonah said. “Let’s at least have a look around before we head back.”

Rowan took another look at the sky. He guessed they had the time for a quick search of the area, but not much more. He started to give directions when something caught his eye.

“What is that?” He pulled at Jonah’s coat to get a better look at the hand-drawn symbol on his shoulder. The centerpiece was an open mouth skull, backed by two crossing arrows.

Jonah smiled sheepishly.

“It’s our symbol,” he said.

“
Our,
who?” Rowan asked.

He found the symbol on Bree’s long coat and again on Gabriel’s before Jonah had a chance to respond. The other boys revealed theirs.

“We’re the Knights of Rowan,” Bale said matter-a-factly.

The sound of it made Rowan laugh. He swallowed his snicker once he realized none of the kids were smiling.

“What do you have to do with my nights?” he asked.

“Not that kind of night. They were protectors,” Tate said, “A long time ago, in the old world.”

“Mia used to read me books about them,” Jonah said. “When we still had books.”

Rowan could read, barely, but Mia had taken to it. They were given access to a wide assortment of books from the old world in the home of their former tribe before the infected took it all away. He wasn’t sure what to make of the group naming themselves, so he decided to let it be.

“We’ll head for the buildings across the street,” he said then nodded to Bree, “but if we don’t find anything promising, we’ll head back.”

He let Jonah lead them. Bale was next, moving with an arrow notched and his bowstring up close to his face, ready to fire. The other three went as a group and Rowan followed them across the street. He was halfway to their destination when a series of murmurs brought him to a sliding stop.

Jonah and Bale were already leaning against the building, Jonah peeking around the corner. The others stopped before they reached the destination. Rowan broke off his straight line and headed for Jonah, waving Bree forward as he did. He took Jonah’s place, and the moment he slid his eyes around the corner, the sound of crunching steps in the snow echoed clearly between the two buildings.

Rowan stepped forward, motioning for the others to stay where they were. He was near the front of the building when the sounds behind him said neither Jonah nor the rest of the newly christened Knights of Rowan followed his directions. His first glimpse of the open area beyond the buildings was a confusing picture. The row of structures he expected to see were replaced by a series of wide circular cuts in the ground surrounded by a tall fence. The odd scene kept him still, and it wasn’t until Jonah shoved him from behind that he realized the footsteps were closing in on them from the opposite side of the building.

“Spread out,” Rowan said. “Bree, take Gabriel and Tate and slide along the face of this building.” He tapped the exterior of the wall behind him. “We’ll go out wide in case they rush us.”

The use of the word
they
heightened the tension of the situation. The moment they stepped out from their position, the footsteps slowed then stopped. Rowan’s eyes were on the corner of the far end of the building. He tried to work through his options if a pack of the dead or worse a group of infected rushed out toward them. Silence covered the area and the stillness heightened the fear.

Rowan drew his bowstring back until his hand touched his cheek. Bree was midway across the face of the building when the footsteps started forward again. Rowan nearly released his arrow when a fuzzy bunny leapt out into the open. It took him a moment to process what he was looking at. The sudden release of tension came out in a snort he couldn’t control. The kids broke into laughter and the burst of sound caused the rabbit to jump off in the direction it came.

“I think we’ve reached our limit,” Rowan said between laughs. “There’s not much out here.”

Bale chimed in with an astute inspiration.

“We should’ve shot the rabbit.”

He was right, but the effort wasn’t worth the time it would take to clean it. Rowan was content to end the hunt for the day. Chances were he’d need to get out of Canaan soon in order to avoid another one of the council’s meetings. There was also a good chance Jonah and the others would be itching to go with him.

“All right, let’s head back.”

He took one step before a new sound reached the opening between the buildings and the fence. The thud of footsteps were lost under a rising growl. Rowan took one more step before he spotted the crimson splotches of blood on the otherwise unblemished snow. The bloodstains were lost under the first step of a decomposing foot as the dead pushed out into the open.

“Get back.”

Rowan was moving backwards, keeping his eyes and his bow trained on the growing crowd. The mob swelled until there were more zombies than anyone cared to count. Bree led Gabriel and Tate away from the front of the building, catching up with the others in the center of the street. Rowan stole a glance at his compatriots and found the faces of the Knights of Rowan full of panic.

“Move around the far side of the next building and try and lead us out the way we came.”

Nobody moved and he was forced to take his eyes off the advancing dead. He grabbed Jonah’s jacket and made the boy look at him.

“I need you to lead the way.”

It took a moment for Jonah to blink out of his rattled haze. Rowan waited until he got a reassuring nod then pushed him off in the direction he wanted them to go. He was calling out orders when he re-engaged with the advancing mob.

“Bree and Bale stay close to me,” he shouted. “Gabriel and Tate keep up with Jonah.” He pulled his bowstring back as he took aim. “Make sure you can see one another at all times.”

Bree fired first and Bale was right behind her. Both hit their mark, but neither took one of the walking dead down. The mob moved at a slow pace, most of them barely audible beyond a few feet. Their decomposing husks were in a terrible state of rot. Most of them were picked clean of the clothes from their former lives, exposing their skin to the elements. Purple and blue decorated most of their limbs, the bare tissue a withering black.

“Save your arrows,” he ordered.

He urged the others to turn and run, figuring they could easily outpace the dead once they got into the open. His calculation was interrupted the moment he spun around.

“Rowan!”

He heard Jonah’s cry, but couldn’t see him. Gabriel and Tate stopped at the edge of a building, but Jonah had already rounded the corner. The two boys were backing away and the open air was met with a clear call of dead-speak carrying on the wind. Tate tried to fire an arrow at something between the buildings, but Gabriel staggered into him and the shot went straight up in the air. Rowan didn’t need to see what was coming.

“Run. Run now,” he yelled. “Straight ahead.”

Bree and Bale sprinted off ahead of him. They slowed down long enough to grab Gabriel and get him moving. Rowan forced Tate to go then took in the full view of what was pushing through the alley between the buildings. Jonah stood a few feet ahead of him, firing the last of his arrows.

The full sight of a pack of infected was enough to freeze a man’s heart. Jonah had seen more horrors in his young life than most, but even he had his limits. They were not truly dead, each with a heart still beating in their chest. It was the blood they craved over the flesh, and the dark traversing veins beneath their graying skin showed the infection rushing through their bodies. Rowan counted five of them running toward him, each of them screaming, blaring out in their perverse tongue.

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.”

They followed the instructions 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.