The Decaying World Saga (Book 2): Season of Decay

by Michael W. Garza

  “I want to see it,” she said. “I know your teams have been there, but we need to make sure it’s ready to receive people. We won’t have much time once we decide to evacuate the compound.” The shifting shadows in the candlelight behind him came to a stop. “I need a proper escort.”

  “Is this official?’ he asked.

  “Do you want to wait for the council?”

  Marcus pursed his lips.

  “When do you want to go?”

  Asher let out a noticeable sigh.

  “As soon as you’re ready to go,” she replied.

  Mia’s group was soon heading back in the opposite direction. Her mind was focused. Marcus promised to have a team ready to head out by the first light of the following day. She kept her mind working through the details of what she needed to bring with her and tried to ignore the barrage of objections from her trailing party.

  Mia knew she was running away more than anything else, but she didn’t care. Part of her didn’t want to hear Rowan tell her what he’d found when he reemerged from the gorge. She didn’t want to watch Asher walk away either. There was something about the idea of being out on her own that promised an escape from everything weighing her down. She was so lost in the idea that she barely noticed the growing gathering at the main entrance to the hive beyond the personnel quarters. It took a tug on her arm from Bree to snap her out of it. Something about the swirl caused her gut to churn and a sudden sense of dread was validated when she heard her name.

  The new arrival pushed through the crowd, heading down the central hall toward her. The thick coat and rosy cheeks gave away the woman as one of the soldiers out on patrol topside. She locked eyes with Mia and the two met in the middle of the hall. The woman was out of breath and she had to gather herself before coming up with enough air to speak.

  “Riders,” she said at last. “Soldiers on horseback.”

  Mia didn’t know what to say.

  “Soldiers, ours?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “No. One of them said he represents the commission.”

  The announcement sent a shockwave through the hall. Mia barely managed a response.

  “How?”

  “They road in from the east,” the woman explained then lowered her voice. “And they asked to speak to you.”

  16

  It took a moment for the recognition to set in. Rowan couldn’t believe his eyes. The familiar face was something straight out of a distorted nightmare. It was nearly impossible for him to believe the former tribesmen who’d helped him escape from Cheyenne stood before him in the flesh. Rowan had to force himself to say the name aloud.

  “Garret?”

  The smiling face stepped closer and the fullness of his decaying features became dreadfully obvious. Rowan remained still although every instinct in his body screamed at him to back away. He kept his gun out in front of him, ready if he needed it. Garret took another step toward him and Rowan nearly convinced himself that the spoken words were all in his head until they came again.

  “I haven’t heard that name in a quite some time,” Garret said.

  This time, the guttural rasp under the words had a chilling effect. Rowan’s courage failed him and he stepped back.

  “How?”

  Garret stopped in the center of the hall and ran his pitch-black eyes over Rowan’s body. The silence between them filled with the bone-chilling grind of his teeth. He held on to his response until their eyes met again.

  “That’s a difficult question to answer,” he said.

  A strange call echoed from the far end of the tunnel. The gathering dead chanted as they made the turn. The sounds pulled together in a haunting chorus. “Ku…ru, Ku…ru.” They continued one after the other much to Garret’s delight.

  “Such sweetness,” he said allowing the words to slither from his rotting lips. “They have named me so,” he explained. “Kuru, lord of the dead.”

  Rowan was at a loss for words. Kuru, however, relished in the opportunity to speak.

  “We’ll need to find somewhere to hide,” he said. “It will be dark soon.”

  Rowan didn’t understand how nightfall could possibly matter in the dark tunnels of a buried hive. Kuru motioned for him to follow before turning his back on the light and plunging into the darkness. Rowan shivered and tried to shake off the confusion. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of the vile thing being Garret.

  Rowan started at a distance, focusing the light along the wall to keep the glow surrounding him. Somehow, he felt the light offered him protection, even if it was all in his imagination. Kuru moved at a slow but steady pace, never bothering to look back to see if Rowan was following him. They reached another split in the hall, and Kuru turned away from the direction of the elevator entrance Rowan and Asher used on their initial descent.

  Rowan paused at the turn, part of him still considering whether or not Kuru could be trusted. He slid his head out into the hall and was shocked to find the collection of zombies gathered a few feet away. They were silent now, no longer chanting the horrible call, each of them gazing back at Rowan in various stages of rot. The sight of the dead so close sucked the air from Rowan’s lungs. He leapt a full two strides back before realizing the dead were not coming after him. Rowan held his gun up instinctively, taking several steps away before turning to catch up with Kuru. A series of turns revealed the last of the day’s light, cascading in through crumbling walls of the massive gorge.

  Kuru shied away from the glow of the sun, shifting from one side of the hallway to the other. He led them into a small storage room, and it wasn’t until Rowan’s foot crossed the doorway that he realized the entire floor was missing. Kuru had disappeared. Rowan poked his head through the entrance and found his guide slowly edging his way to the next floor down on the remains of a set of stairs against the wall near the door.

  The floor below was shrouded in complete darkness. Rowan focused his lantern on the stairs and tiptoed after Kuru until the black swallowed the two. Lines of cable hung from the ceiling across what appeared to have once been a food storage area. A whiff of the pungent, stale air said most of the food had long spoiled. Rowan gagged on the scent as the full aroma rushed into his lungs. Kuru chuckled looking back for the first time.

  “The smell throws off the infected.”

  The growling words held Rowan still.

  “They hunt you?” Rowan asked.

  Kuru kept moving forward.

  “For now.”

  Rowan sped up until he was an arm’s length from his guide. The two moved between the debris until they were lost somewhere deep within the floor. Kuru slipped sideways between two sections of a collapsed wall and came to a stop. Rowan shined his light through the crack and found a tight, open area. He was judging the width of the opening when the light hit the floor and the view caused him to raise his gun.

  “Are those bones?”

  Kuru found a place to sit and looked back at the end of the barrel with little concern.

  “Of course,” he said then grinned. “If I was going to eat you, you’d be dead already.” He motioned for Rowan to lower his weapon. “I would suggest you make your decision quickly. The infected may not be able to smell you, but they can sure as hell see that light.”

  As if on cue, a distant growl echoed from somewhere in the darkness. A frightful roar was enough to force Rowan to make a hasty choice. He kept his gun aimed on Kuru as he slid through the makeshift entrance. Rowan pushed an assortment of bones out of his way with his boot then sat down across from his still grinning host. He dimmed the lantern light until the edges of the soft glow barely reached the outline of Kuru’s face.

  “What happened to you?”

  “You did,” he said. He held his hands up to show off the bloodstains covering his tattered shirt. “Don’t you remember? I was shot and Jonah–”

  Rowan finished for him.

  “…Gave you the vial of my blood.”

  “Mixed with the blood
of the nexus,” Kuru added.

  “So, you’re…dead?”

  Kuru’s grin widened at the sound of it.

  “No,” he said simply. “I’m not much alive either.” He pulled at his shirt, tearing off the buttons as he yanked it open. “I’m something different altogether.”

  The light revealed the foul greying skin beneath his shirt. Marks of blackened blood blotted wounds across his torso. Rowan’s eyes were drawn to movement within a fist-sized cavity centered on his chest. The rhythmic pulsing flexed with an oddly familiar thump. The recognition struck Rowan as it matched the beating in his ears.

  “That’s your heart.”

  Kuru’s lips parted in a smile so wide it nearly tore the skin at both ends.

  “I suppose it is.”

  Rowan’s mind automatically flipped through the lessons he’d learned throughout his childhood. The great infection swept across the land generations ago, causing the dead to rise with a dreadful taste for living flesh. The world quickly surrendered to the infection, but there was more to come. The disease continued to mutate working its way into the living. The mutation brought about the rise of the infected, transforming living people into bloodthirsty monsters unable to control their vicious desires. He looked at Kuru’s decomposing face with a renewed and frightful awe. Kuru held his smile, apparently amused by Rowan’s expression.

  “I don’t think Dr. Olric has any interest in finding a cure.”

  Rowan heard his declaration, but his mind was still focused on trying to figure out what he was. His thoughts fluttered through more of the details as he shoved a particularly long bone with his boot. He knew the dead feasted on the living, particularly the brains and other organs. The infected survived somehow on the blood of others. The scattered piles of bones littering the dirty floor said Kuru was more in line with one than the other.

  “I think he was dreaming of me.”

  The words grabbed Rowan’s attention.

  “Of you?” he asked.

  Kuru let go of his shirt and the dirty material fell over his ash-colored skin.

  “At least something like me,” he admitted.

  The sudden realization placed a growing importance on finding the nexus.

  “He’s still here,” Rowan said. “The undead boy whose blood they mixed with mine.”

  Kuru studied him, creating an awkward silence before he responded.

  “I know.”

  Rowan involuntarily scooted forward, shifting the light. The move highlighted the details of Kuru’s face. His sunken eyes absorbed in the light. Deep grooves along the sides of his head clung to the bone beneath accentuated by tears in the skin. Thin patches of hair framed an appalling face that held on to a vague reminder of who he once was.

  “Have you seen him?” Rowan asked. “Do you know where the undead boy is?”

  Kuru shook his head slowly.

  “I can smell him,” he said then continued before Rowan could ask his question. “I can smell all of them. I think that’s how the dead know me. They can sense their own kind,” he grinned, “and they can sense my power.”

  Rowan didn’t know what to make of what he was hearing. All he could focus on was how Kuru might be the answer to finding the nexus.

  “I need to find him,” he said. “Dr. Olric took Jonah and another boy.” He knew that wasn’t the entire truth, but the heart of the matter was honest. “Finding the nexus might be the only way to save them.”

  Kuru studied him. His decaying face gave no hint at any recognition of Jonah. Rowan didn’t know if there was enough of Garret left inside the rotting monstrosity to concern himself with such things. A series of distant growls yanked a response out of him.

  “I may be able to help you,” Kuru said. “But I need something from you in return.”

  Something about the hidden request renewed Rowan’s fear. He adjusted his grip on his gun, jittering slightly on top of his leg. The anticipation built as Kuru continued.

  “I want out of here,” Kuru said, “and I need you to help me reach the surface.”

  Rowan hesitated. His concern for Jonah and Tate was unable to override a sudden feeling that Kuru could be a danger to Canaan. Rowan had an unnatural urge to raise his gun and fire. Kuru scowled at him.

  “I could have let you die,” he said then snapped to his feet.

  Rowan responded by jumping off his seat. His back slammed into one side of the collapsed ceiling as he brought his gun to bear. Kuru took a step forward, ignoring the threat. Rowan stood his ground, unsure if a shot to the brain would put him down.

  “You saw us,” Rowan said, guessing at Kuru’s meaning. “You saw Asher and me when we came down here looking for the kids.”

  “I’m the only reason you got out of here alive,” he said.

  Rowan quickly considered his options.

  “How can you help me if you don’t know where the nexus is?”

  The question stopped Kuru’s advance mid-step and the response slithered from his mouth.

  “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  ♦

  The conversation came to an abrupt close. The silence was unnerving as the two sat directly across from one another. Kuru offered no more detail as to how he could help and soon left his guest sitting alone. He provided a lingering warning before he vanished into the dark.

  “The infected hunt in the halls at night. We’ll wait for first light.”

  The parting shot filled Rowan’s mind with a number of questions. What exactly do the infected hunt down in the remains of hive 6? Are there other survivors trapped down here? Where was Kuru planning to lead him when the light returned? Perhaps most important, could he trust this foul creature enough to follow him?

  The time passed painfully slow. Rowan switched the lantern off for long periods of time in order to save the fuel. There was no hint of the outside world and no way to gauge how long he’d be cooped up in his hiding spot. Rowan didn’t want to think about what Kuru was doing. The bones lying around his feet were an indication he couldn’t ignore.

  Rowan struggled to stay awake, at times catching himself as he nodded off. Exhaustion took its toll. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night. He was forced to stand and even step out of his hiding spot in order to pace. In the end, his fear kept him awake. It was impossible for him to determine how long he’d been alone when the first sounds of footsteps moved toward him. Kuru’s voice called out before Rowan could see him.

  “You must really need my help.”

  “Is it safe?”

  Rowan recognized the ignorance of his question the moment he said it.

  “Not even a little bit,” Kuru said as he stepped into the light. “But there’s a better chance that you’ll live to see tomorrow.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure if the comment was an attempt at humor. Any laughter was lost in his throat once he took in the sight of fresh blood on the remains of Kuru’s clothes. Rowan wanted to know what Kuru fed on, but he wasn’t sure he could stomach the response. Kuru motioned at the lantern.

  “The less light the better.”

  Fuel was already a concern. A small bottle in Rowan’s bag contained his backup supply. In his haste to get down into the ruins of the hive, Rowan failed to consider how long he might be on the hunt. He turned the knob on the side of the lantern and reduced its glow.

  “I’m not walking around in the dark with you,” he said.

  Kuru opened his mouth, revealing his teeth as if to mock the declaration.

  “Suit yourself.”

  He motioned at the opening and Rowan slipped through. A moment later and they were standing at the entry point with the breach in the ceiling above them and a smaller gap in the floor below. A single ray of sunlight pierced the darkness from somewhere out of view. Rowan made his way down using the crumbling remains of the floor. He paid particular attention to Kuru’s descent and was surprised by his steady footing.

  Sunlight worked its way through cracks in the wal
l along the passage on the next level down revealing the way ahead. Figures dotted doorways along the sides of the hall most of them swaying from side to side. Recognition forced Rowan to stop. Kuru was several strides ahead before he noticed.

  “They won’t bother you,” he said.

  Rowan realized they were zombies, more than he could count. Each of them remained in the doorways in some bizarre tribute. Their dreadful call began in a low murmur, slowly building as each one joined in. Rowan had to force himself to continue forward.

  “Ku…ru, Ku…ru.”

  Rowan shuddered and he considered for the first time what Kuru might do if he was released to the surface. Rowan held his gun out, aimed at the dead, as he neared the opening in the hall. It was a woman, or at least it was at one time, one of the compound’s soldiers by the look of her. A cavity in the center of its face was an unmistakable focal point. The nose had been torn away and the remaining space between its cheekbones showed through to a half-eaten tongue and a partially connected eyeball dangling against the back of its throat.

  Kuru never stopped nor did he acknowledge the dead. Rowan kept his gun up, never once putting faith in Kuru’s control. The enormity of his apparent power was beyond Rowan’s comprehension. He quickly lost the ability to recognize Kuru as once being the tribesman Garret.

  Kuru remained quiet, refusing to hint at their destination. Rowan gave him space once they cleared the initial hallway. The sounds of the dead faded in the background, but never disappeared entirely. The constant wave hinted at the sheer volume lurking in the dark corners of the ruins. It was a fearsome reminder at what awaited Rowan outside of Kuru’s protection.

  The pace slowed as they reached the lower levels and Kuru’s hesitation resonated with fear. Rowan felt the tension build and he knew his guide had taken them beyond his protection. They crossed a wide passage and Rowan recognized the location at once. They stepped through a partially blocked entryway and looked out at a massive storage area.

  Light flooded in from a long opening in the far wall. The railing of a metal landing produced a memory of tribesmen climbing up from the bottom of the gorge. The entire space had been alive with gunfire the last time Rowan saw it. A vision of Mia rushing through the chaos filled his mind. It was the first time he’d seen her since they’d separated in Cheyenne. The memory felt like a lifetime ago.