The Decaying World Saga (Book 1): Tribes of Decay (7 page)

“We’ll have to make it to that door.” The entrance to the building was already open, but the bloody handprints on the interior wall were less than inviting. “Go now.”

“But they’re shooting at us,” Rowan said.

“And while you’re running your mouth, the rest of them are racing downstairs to meet us outside.”

Rowan understood the point. He stood up, hunched over as close to the ground as he could get, and grabbed Mia by the arm. She jumped out in front of him and was in a full sprint before he took his first step. The arrows kept coming, but Rowan and Mia were out of range once they reached the midpoint of the roof. They past the open doorway before turning to see if the wanderer was following them.

He had his hat in one hand and a long pole in the other. A clear view of his face revealed the thin, white hair dangling from his head and his weathered skin. Rowan waited at the doorway with one eye on Mia and the other on the old man. The wanderer slowed as he approached. He had to gather his breath before he could speak.

“The stairs,” he took a deep gulp of air, “they go all the way down.”

Mia started moving and Rowan couldn’t wait to see if the old man was going to collapse where he was or be able to follow. Rowan marveled at Mia’s speed. She’d always been faster than him and nearly every other boy in the tribe. It was a sore subject when they were younger.

She was standing at the building’s entrance when Rowan reached the ground floor. Most of the front wall was missing, lying in piles of dirt and rock scattered along the entrance of the building. She kept her eyes on the road while motioning for Rowan to slow down. He’d nearly reached her when he spotted what had her attention.

The dead were nothing like the infected. Mindless and singularly focused, zombies sought out food. The undead did not appear to speak with one another, but it was discovered a short time after the outbreak that they could communicate in some silent way. Packs of them moved in formation, turning like schools of fish without any of them ever saying a word. The mob working its way around the building across the street was two dozen strong.

“At least those people chasing us aren’t going to run out into the open,” Rowan said.

“We’re not going to be able to wait it out,” Mia countered.

Rowan glanced back at the stairs, but there was no sign of the wanderer.

“We’ll go out near the end of the building and head away from the center of the city,” he said.

“They’ll sense us.”

“I know, but we can’t wait around and hope they don’t trap us in here.”

Mia started toward the opening in the wall he’d pointed out, moving quickly between mounds of rubble. Rowan waited until she was in place before he moved. He was nearly across the ground floor when the wanderer rushed out from the entrance to the stairs.

“One of them made it across.”

The shout broke the silence and Rowan’s head snapped toward the road. The dead were moving in a wide gaggle. Several of the decaying corpse’s heads turned and then the entire formation shifted the direction of its shuffling walk. Rowan finished the distance between him and Mia with a blur of the wanderer racing alongside of him. They reached the breach in the wall at the same time.

Mia stepped outside, her eyes on the coming wave of the dead. They’d found the trio and the need to feed drove them to move faster. A moan broke from the group, their desire for flesh echoing off the face of the decrepit buildings. The sound of it brought a familiar dread to Rowan’s heart. He tried to remain focused on Mia as she sprinted out ahead of them.

They were a block away when Rowan finally looked back. The dead were in a long line running from one side of the street to the other. A small pack had broken away from the main group, trying to get at something inside the building. A scream told Rowan the men who were chasing them now had other problems to deal with.

“We need to get off the street,” the wanderer said. “This way.”

He hurried through the burnt-out interior of a two-story structure across the street. Mia was moving so fast ahead of them that she had to make a wide turn in order to get back to where Rowan was waiting. He let her pass him before taking up the rear of their loose formation. They were far enough ahead of the dead to be safe, but they couldn’t allow themselves to get closed in.

The wanderer appeared to know where he was going. He plunged directly into the remnants of a structure, jumping over stacks of concrete blocks and rushing between doorframes. Mia and Rowan kept close to him. He slowed once, only long enough to push aside a large chunk of rock. He found something on the floor and yanked on it. A solid square of metal pulled up in his hand, revealing a narrow set of stairs that led down under the building.

“Go quickly.”

Mia hesitated. Rowan stared down into the darkness at the bottom step.

“Where’s it go?” Mia asked.

“Do you want my help or not?” the wanderer asked.

Rowan saw the questions in her eyes. He stepped around her and took her hand as he past. He was midway down the steps before she gave in. Rowan’s feet tapped across a dirty floor and then the light disappeared above. He froze, squeezing Mia’s hand. She moved in close behind him, her breath on the back of his neck. The wanderer’s whispered words broke the silence.

“Stay close; keep your hand on the wall.”

They were moving again, now with slow, cautious steps. The sound of the wanderer’s uneven strides and labored breaths led them. Rowan’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as a dim glow slowly revealed the way ahead. The shifting outline of the wanderer turned off the narrow way and a new space opened up in front of them.

The wanderer swept aside a tattered section of fabric and urged Rowan and Mia to step through. They found themselves standing at a railing, looking down on a wide-open space. The drop was a dizzying descent, spanning several floors. Rowan swayed as his legs went unexpectedly weak.

“What’s a matter?”

He heard Mia’s question, but he couldn’t focus on her face. Several versions of her looked back him with the shadow of the wanderer over her shoulder. Someone grabbed his arms as he fell to his knees, but he could no longer make out anything around him. Rowan took one last look at the shifting light and then sank into complete darkness.

7

The heat was intense. Rowan tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. Nightmares rushed through his mind, overwhelming his senses. Vivid horrors lashed out at him; the undead peeling the skin from his body as they ate, while a horde of infected drained every ounce of his blood. He felt himself convulse as the pain consumed him. Somewhere in the madness he heard her. Rowan heard Mia calling to him; he heard every one of her worried cries.

Rowan pressed his eyelids together with enough force to give himself a headache. A sudden flicker of light pushed back the shadows in his mind. A blurred vision shifted between the dancing light. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing, certain there were more nightmares to come. The scene hardened and Rowan realized he was lying on his side. He tried to wipe his hand over his face only to discover he couldn’t move his arms at all. Reality pierced the veil of sleep and his surroundings were suddenly clear.

A hysterical state of fear washed over him. A fire filled the center of his vision, a neatly laid row of rocks encircling the flames. The room was dark outside the fire, but there was a vague outline of an opening beyond the light. Two figures appeared in the fiery glow, both of them across from him. One rushed toward him while the other waited and watched. Sound filled Rowan’s ears as the first figure knelt down in front of him.

“Rowan, oh Rowan.”

Mia’s face was etched in pain. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she cradled his head in her lap.

“Help me get these off,” she yelled. “Jacob, he’s not turning.”

The old man hesitated a moment longer, then in a befuddled state, he crossed the room and untied Rowan’s hands and feet. Rowan pulled as the binds loosened. He grabbed a hold of Mia and tried to lift himself off the ground. She helped him sit up, but he lacked the strength to stay upright. He was left leaning against her.

“Where are we?”

Rowan heard himself, but the broken whisper was unfamiliar.

“You’re safe,” Jacob said.

It took Rowan a moment to place the old man Mia called Jacob as the wanderer they’d found on the rooftop.

“What’s happening to me?”

“You nearly died,” Jacob said. “The arrow that grazed you was dipped in infected blood.” His eyes went from Rowan to Mia and then back. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

The old man’s stare briefly slid down to his hands and only then did Rowan see the long knife he was holding.

“I’m infected?” Rowan asked, shuddering as the words left his mouth.

“You should be.”

Mia squeezed him as the old man spoke.

“Relax,” she said. “You need your strength.”

Jacob helped lay Rowan back down, resting his head on a rolled coat. Mia remained close, helping him take a sip of water. Jacob returned to the other side of the fire, taking a seat on the ground. The old man took a few bites from something in a can and then pushed it aside.

“Pure blood is what they call it,” he started. “I’ve heard it many times.” He paused. “Never seen it though,” he chuckled to himself, “didn’t think I ever would. Hell, I’m not sure anyone has believed in that for a long time.”

Rowan shifted his head. Mia sat close to him, her leg resting against his side.

“I don’t understand.”

Jacob looked up at him for only a moment then shook his head.

“The virus, the one the infected carry around in their blood?”

Rowan didn’t understand the word
virus
but he was well aware of the infection.

“Something in your blood stopped it from infecting you,” Jacob said.

“How can that be?” Mia asked. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Jacob waved her off. “You wouldn’t. None of the tribes have seen it.”

The old man grumbled to himself as he started whittling on a piece of wood. Rowan looked up at Mia and found her smiling at him.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said.

“Where are we?”

“Underground,” she explained. “Jacob has lived down here for a while.” Rowan was more confused than ever. “He hasn’t left the city for several seasons,” she said. “He says the infected are gathering everywhere.”

Rowan’s memory suddenly rushed to the forefront. “Like what we found,” he asserted. He tried to reach for the small pack on his side, but a shot of pain ran up his spine and forced him to stay in place. “We have to show him the device.”

“Radio.”

Rowan and Mia’s heads turned together. Jacob wasn’t looking at them, but he continued to talk.

“It’s called a radio,” he said. “People used to use them to talk to one another over long distances.” He held it up so they could see it.

“How?” Rowan asked.

Jacob’s mouth opened to try to explain, but nothing came out. “It belonged to the old world,” he said.

The explanation was enough for the moment.

“But we heard someone talking over it.”

Jacob snickered. “Sure you did.”

Mia cut in.

“You need to eat something,” she said, focusing on more pressing matters. “You need your strength.”

She pulled something off one of the stones around the fire and tore it into smaller pieces. Rowan tried to process everything as she fed him.

“How long have we been down here?”

“Five days,” she said.

“Five days?”

Mia pressed down on his chest as he tried to rise up. She forced another bite in his mouth and whispered.

“He was going to kill you.” Rowan stopped mid-chew, his eyes sliding toward the old man with a renewed distrust. “He told me you would turn into one of them.”

Jacob broke into a coughing fit and the sudden eruption caused both Mia and Rowan to flinch. He continued until he managed to get something up in his mouth that he spit out in a dirty cloth he kept in his pocket. The scarlet blots matched the smear left across his lips. It took several deep breaths before he was able to get his breathing under control.

“Are you all right?” Mia asked.

Jacob brushed her off with a wave of his hand.

“I’ll live,” he said and then laughed to himself, “a little while longer anyway.” He moved closer to the fire, still laughing.

His skin was the color of burnt copper, something akin to old leather pulled tight over the bones in his face. His pure white hair hung down over his shoulders, some of the stands braided all the way up to the sides of his head. Bushy, unkempt eyebrows hung low, nearly blocking his baby blue eyes from the piece of wood he was focusing his attention on. His odd patchwork of clothing appeared as bizarre and out of place as the old man was in the city.

Jacob remained fixated on his task. He sharpened both ends of the stick and then laid it down, picking up another one from a pile by his side. Mia and Rowan kept quiet, neither sure if the old man would help them. There was a silent question lingering between the two of them as to whether or not they knew what kind of help they needed. Rowan was more interested on where he could find a safe place away from the tribes, but he knew Mia’s heart belonged to the Cheyenne people and more important her brother.

“Where did you used to go?” There was an uncomfortable silence as Jacob continued his work, ignoring Mia’s question. She coughed in her hand and repeated it. “Where did you used to go?”

The old man looked up, lowering his knife and stick to his lap.

“All over,” he said. “I reckon I’ve walked damn near across the country.” He thought about it. “It used to be a country, a collection of states.” He frowned at the lack of recognition from his audience. “Doesn’t matter.” He started back whittling on his stick. “I started in California.”

Both Rowan and Mia’s ears perked up. Mia’s eyes opened wide with excitement. Her love of history was written on her face.

“We’ve heard of the California Tribe,” she said. “In the old world, it was called the great west.”

Jacob stopped, surprised by her response.

“Yes, along the coast.” He sat up and made eye contact. “That was a long time ago, right after the infection spread.”

“Are you part of the California Tribe?” Rowan asked.

“Well no, not really,” Jacob said and then thought about it. “That’s where we ended up when everything went to hell. There’s a small island off the coast, called Catalina. That’s where we—”

“We?”

Mia’s interruption froze him midsentence. His mouth hung open as his mind processed what she’d said.

“My sister.”

He said it and turned his eyes toward the fire. The intense sadness made Mia lean into Rowan as if she knew she’d touched on a terrible thing.

“The compound didn’t last,” he continued. “I was on my own after that.”

“You’ve seen them gathering?” Rowan asked. “The infected?”

“They’ve been gathering for years.”

“Not like this,” Rowan insisted. He hesitated and then tried to sit up. Mia helped him and he was able to keep himself upright. “There’s more than I’ve ever seen before and they were,” he stumbled over the words as he tried to think of the right one, “invading.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve seen that too.”

“Where?”

“It’s happened several times,” Jacob shifted uneasily. “It’s the beginning of the end for the city.”

“How so?” Mia asked, her tone more frightened now than curious.

“It happens in pockets, everywhere,” he explained. “The infected evolve, some more than others. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what it’s like east of the Rockies. We’re a dying breed my friend.”

Rowan wasn’t sure he understood what the old man was saying.

“Will they come after the tribe?” Mia asked.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Jacob said. “Probably too late,” he added without much consideration.

Rowan felt Mia tremble. She looked around the darkening space like a trapped animal.

“We need to warn them,” she said, desperately. “I have to tell my father.”

Mia stood up and Rowan fell back, slapping his head on the rolled coat by chance. “Mia, hold on.” She was walking away, trying to escape. “Come here and give me a hand.”

Jacob watched them, but didn’t interfere.

“We have to tell them,” she insisted, pausing for a moment. “We have to let them know what’s coming.”

Rowan waited until he was sure he had her attention. “We tried that already, remember?” She held still, crossing her arms and nervously tapping her foot. “Your father saw it with his own eyes,” he reminded her.

“They didn’t understand what it was,” she said. “How could they?”

“What makes you think they’ll believe you now?”

Mia’s head shot up like a lightning bolt, extending a finger toward Jacob.

“They’ll believe him.”

Rowan turned to the old man and Jacob was already shaking his head.

“Not my problem,” he said. “It’s time for me to move on.”

Mia stomped back into the firelight. “Move on?” She glared at him. “And what will happen to our tribe? Don’t you care?”

Jacob got to his feet before responding. “No,” he said plainly, and then began to slide his sharpened sticks into a large backpack lying on the ground behind him. “I gave up my concern for this world long ago.”

“What?” Mia asked, shocked by his indifference.

“You’re free to go whenever you like,” he said.

Rowan and Mia watched him in silence as he gathered the last of his things and slowly slipped his pack in place. He laid the radio down on the ground on the other side of the fire and turned to leave.

“We have to warn them.”

Mia’s statement sounded more like a question. It took Rowan a moment to realize what was happening. Jacob took another deep breath. His eyes softened as he forced himself to look directly at the young couple.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve seen where the world is going. I’ve walked across this God forsaken country longer than you’ve been alive. The infected have been evolving for decades. They grew a tolerance to the light, they learned how to communicate with one another,” he paused, “and they’ve figured out how to keep their food source alive. There’s no stopping this.”

He turned his back on them and started a slow walk into the shadows.

“And what will happen to us?” Mia asked, her voice cracking from the hopelessness of his words. “What will happen to the tribe?”

Jacob never stopped walking.

“They’ll all be dead…,” he disappeared into the darkness, “…or they’ll wish they were.”

Rowan and Mia stared at the shadows for a long time, neither breaking the silence. It wasn’t until Rowan wanted to test his strength that he uttered a sound.

“Give me your hand.”

The change in focus helped them brush off Jacob’s ominous statements. Rowan was standing on shaky legs, but he was confident he could move. Mia helped him circle the room a few times and the small amount of exertion took the remainder of what little energy he had. She helped him sit down near the fire and then turned her attention to what was gnawing at her gut.