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

by Michael W. Garza

  “Wish me luck.”

  He grabbed a hold of the netting hanging over the edge of the gorge and started his climb down. His adrenaline kept him moving as fatigue crept into the corners of his mind. He’d managed a quick nap which came in the form of passing out as he was attempting to resupply his gear then choked down a packet of crackers on his way topside.

  “Good luck.”

  The woman’s good will gesture echoed over the edge long after Rowan lost sight of her. He dropped down the last few feet hitting the metal landing with a firm bang. He lit his lantern and flashed the beam around the black interior of the adjoining room before carefully laying out the material he hoped to use to lift the nexus up to the surface. Rowan tried to keep one eye on his task and the other on the darkness.

  “I knew you’d be back.”

  The growling voice gave away the speaker, but not before he leapt forward. The impact took Rowan off his feet and left him sprawling on the cold metal grate. Kuru stood over him, his black, soulless eyes glaring down at him. Rowan went for his knife, but Kuru stepped on his wrist pinning it to the ground.

  “Did you miss me?” Kuru asked. “I sure missed you.”

  The stare off didn’t last long. Rowan was surprised when Kuru moved his foot then took a few steps back into the room. Rowan didn’t see any point in hiding his intentions.

  “I need your help,” he said, plainly.

  “Why would I help you?” Kuru asked. “You’re a liar.”

  “I know what I did, but I don’t know where else to turn.”

  Kuru studied him, running his eyes over Rowan’s body.

  “You’re afraid of me.”

  Rowan nodded then countered.

  “I’m afraid of what you might become.”

  Kuru smiled.

  “There’s no stopping that now.”

  Rowan didn’t understand the full depth of what he was hearing, but the confidence was somehow more terrifying than the words themselves. He was desperate. He needed the nexus to ensure some amount of hope that they would ever see Jonah alive again. That need outweighed Rowan’s fear of what releasing Kuru on the world might do.

  “I can promise you–” Rowan began, but Kuru waved him off.

  “Don’t waste your breath,” he said. “When the time comes, I’ll make sure of it.” The finish hinted at a threat and a follow-up grin drove it home. “What do you want from me?”

  “Same as before.”

  “The undead boy.” Kuru paused. “The one they call the nexus.”

  Rowan nodded.

  “You said you could,” Rowan struggled with the recall, “sense them.”

  “Smell them,” Kuru corrected him. He closed his eyes and lifted his face, taking a deep breath as he did. “Oh, the sweet smell,” he said in a lustful tone. “Once it hits me,” his body quivered, “it’s like I can taste them.”

  The description alone was enough to make the hair on the back of Rowan’s neck stand on end.

  “Can you find him?”

  Kuru slowly lowered his head as his eyes opened wide.

  “I can try.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” Rowan said. “The commission wants him in exchange for Jonah.”

  The mention of Mia’s brother caused a reaction. Kuru shook off a thought and his eyes narrowed.

  “Unlike you, I won’t make a promise.”

  Rowan hesitated then nodded, knowing full well that he had no other options.

  “Lead the way.”

  Kuru led him through a series of rooms without much of an explanation. Rowan hadn’t forgotten his near death escape and the memory kept him on constant guard. Kuru demanded the lantern be reduced to little more than a glow and the result left Rowan cloaked in darkness beyond a few feet in any direction. He was forced to put his faith in his guide, a fact Kuru appeared to enjoy immensely.

  “We wait.”

  Kuru’s whispered directions brought them to a grinding halt. Rowan’s nerves were fraying by the moment. He could not stop his hands from shaking and the fear showed in the swaying glow of the light. He was forced to set the lantern down and take a knee in an attempt to calm himself.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Kuru put his hand up, refusing to turn away from the darkness. His response provided no comfort.

  “They’re looking for us,” he said. “They know you’re here.”

  Rowan’s heart thumped in his ears as he took in the news.

  “The infected?” he whispered.

  Kuru nodded.

  The acknowledgement brought with it a renewed trepidation. The idea that he was now being hunted didn’t sit well in his gut. Rowan couldn’t shake off his concern that Kuru might simply be leading him to his death. Neither of them had any real reason to trust the other except for a former connection that Rowan wasn’t certain existed anymore.

  Kuru backed in close to him, his eyes still on the darkness. Rowan’s arm brushed up against his skin through the remains of his shirt. His body was cold to the touch with no hint of the warmth of the living. The rough exterior was lined with odd pits and grooves where the rotting muscle beneath sank against the pressure. Rowan withdrew from the contact and the moment brought back a clear reminder of what he might be risking by releasing Kuru on the world above.

  “Stay close to the ground,” Kuru said. “We can’t get trapped in here.”

  He started forward with a lurch that propelled him out into the hallway between two storage rooms. Rowan bent over as close to the ground as he could get and ran after him. The pale light provided little relief from the dark, but Rowan’s mind was hell-bent on keeping himself within the glow. They were across the hallway and through a crack in the opposite wall within a few long strides.

  Kuru slipped into the darkness of the room and Rowan suddenly found himself alone. He kept moving although his pace slowed to a painful crawl. The light touched the sides of a tall container and Rowan pressed his back up against it. He nearly shrilled at the top of his lungs when a firm grip snatched his wrist.

  “This way.”

  The husky guttural tone identified Kuru, but Rowan couldn’t will himself to move. The fright thrust his stomach into the back of his throat. He had to tell himself he’d be lost for sure, if he didn’t rush after his guide. He found Kuru at the other end of the container, peering out around the edge.

  “Where are we going?” Rowan asked. “Can you sense the nexus?” He wasn’t sure it was the appropriate question, but he didn’t know how else to ask it.

  “In time,” Kuru replied without turning around. “In time.”

  Rowan couldn’t explain why, but the response infuriated him. His aggravation boiled over until he spat back in a dangerously loud voice.

  “Time is the only thing we don’t have.”

  Kuru’s response was subtle but direct. He stood straight up and slowly turned. The black pits of his eyes glared at Rowan, glowing at the edges of the lantern light. His words were slow and measured.

  “There’s plenty of time.”

  An epiphany struck Rowan directly between the eyes.

  “You already know where he is, don’t you?”

  Kuru didn’t reply, instead returning to his position at the edge of the container.

  “You lied to me,” Rowan said, almost comically.

  “We’re even,” Kuru whispered.

  The realization made Rowan’s internal debate more conflicting. There was no way to trust the creature. There was no way to ensure he could control Kuru at all. The fear of what he might do was growing with every footstep between them.

  Kuru signaled and he was off again. Rowan remained close, matching his hunched walk through a series of rooms and crumbling tunnels. They climbed down several levels through a collapsed floor, finally coming to a stop at a crossway. The view was both promising and terrifying all at once. The hall widened directly across from the split but movement from a pair of opened doorways hinted at what lurked beyond. Rowan heard t
he dead and their rising call of some mad allegiance he couldn’t possibly understand.

  “Ku…ru…”

  The snarling serenade rose in volume as others joined in. Kuru stood in the center of the hall, his hands slowly lifting up from his sides. The first of the dead pulled out of the doorways lumbering toward him. A mass exodus continued until the hallway was filled from one side to the other. Kuru looked back, his face filled with a devilish glee.

  “We’re safe now,” he said with notable satisfaction.

  Rowan was dumbfounded. The mere belief that a creature such as Kuru could even exist was difficult enough.

  “Are you telling them what to do?”

  “I can’t explain it in a way that you would understand,” Kuru said, facing to his followers.

  Rowan was quite certain that the statement was true. He lost his follow-up question somewhere in his throat as he realized an open elevator door was a few steps away. Rowan backed toward the door trying to keep one eye on the gathering in the hall and the other on the elevator. The view was bothersome in either direction.

  He allowed himself to turn his back on the dead in the hall to focus on the darkness beyond the elevator doors. The view was a familiar one, harking back to his and Asher’s descent. Rowan turned the knob on his lantern and the contraption responded with an intensified beam of light. He angled the beam enough to prove the bottom of the elevator shaft was beyond the light’s reach.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  Kuru had moved into the middle of his gathering. The dead reached out to touch him in a disturbing display of affection. Kuru relished the attention and the display shook Rowan to the core. Kuru grunted his response.

  “Go get your prize,” he said. “He’s trapped in the bottom of the shaft.”

  Rowan stared back at the dark pit and whispered to himself.

  “How in the hell…?”

  He slipped his pack off and laid it on the ground. A quick search produced a long coil of rope as the only item of any use. Rowan took off his faded jacket in a moment of inspiration before searching for somewhere to tie off the rope. He decided on a broken section of wall as the best option to hold his weight.

  “I guess you’re not coming down with me?”

  Kuru didn’t respond, still consumed by the bizarre gathering.

  “Figures.”

  Rowan threw the coil out into the shaft and let it fall. He was still attempting to formulate a plan when he stepped up to the edge of the open doorway and looked down. The countless number of things that could go terribly wrong continued to interrupt his thought process. Rowan laid his jacket around his neck and grabbed the rope with both hands.

  He did his best to ignore the interaction between Kuru and the dead, but the rising volume of the gathering made it difficult. The sound reminded him of a labored breath, someone hanging on to life by a hair string. The soft grunts came together in a chant as the dead closed in around Kuru. They circled him until Rowan could no longer see him within the crowd.

  Rowan gave the rope a good pull before turning his back on the elevator shaft and placing his feet at the edge of the opening. He leaned back, putting more and more weight on the line as he went. He didn’t stop inching backwards until he was horizontal in the shaft looking straight up at the seemingly endless darkness above. Rowan wrapped the rope loosely around his wrist and started down.

  The process was slow, painfully highlighting Rowan’s exhaustion. The concern over his plan didn’t take hold until the district sound of a growl rose up to greet him from somewhere below. A rush of panic caused him to reach for the lantern dangling from his belt. The result shook him to the point where he nearly let go of the rope.

  He forced the lantern beam straight down and the light revealed that the bottom was closer than he thought. The cramped space was covered with debris, and surprisingly, some of it was moving. Rowan didn’t realize what he was staring at until the creature looked up at him. The undead boy was as small and frail as he remembered. Its frayed hair showed through to blotches of exposed skull and rotted tissue. The light reflected off its soulless eyes and vision brought with it an instant connection to Kuru.

  Rowan was still, hanging on to the rope, dangling two levels above his target. He studied the undead boy and realized the thing was stuck in the corner. The light shifted from its face and it lunged up at Rowan. The attempt highlighted its leg wedged between the side of the elevator shaft and a large metal beam. Rowan smiled.

  “I’ve got you now.”

  He studied the layout as best he could and walked across the face of the wall as much as the rope would allow. Rowan maneuvered himself until he was above the corner opposite of the nexus. He continued his downward climb until the end of the rope was near his feet. Luck finally broke on his side, leaving the distance between the end of the line and the bottom of the shaft less than his own height. He studied the floor, guessed at the safest spot, and let go.

  The landing wasn’t as painless as he’d hoped, but he shook off the sting in his ankles. The undead boy broke into a wild, lashing fit. It growled and roared in a snarling response to the invasion of its space. The boy’s face lit up in the light and the ferocity of its actions seized Rowan mid-step.

  It took several moments before the creature seemingly accepted that it could not get its hands on the tempting flesh directly in front of it. Its sunken cheeks were marred with slits along the skin, revealing a bulbous, blackened tongue. The lack of movement gave Rowan the nerve to take a step forward. He reached the center of the shaft before the approach drew a new response. The undead boy examined him with renewed interest. Rowan steadied himself and slipped his jacket off from around his neck.

  “Are you going to hold still for me?” he asked as he spread the jacket out in front of him. “We’re going to go for a little ride.”

  Rowan’s plan was half concocted when he moved within arm’s reach of the boy. A well-placed boot to the mid-section crumpled the boy in half. Rowan was on top of it in a single step, throwing the jacket out like a fishing net. He made sure the head was covered before pulling the sleeves around its shoulders and chest. The entire event was over in a matter of seconds, leaving the flailing zombie covered from the head down to mid-chest, where the sleeves were held in place by a knot.

  Rowan took a step back to admire his work, which gave him time to wonder what in the world he was going to do next. He knew the rope was his only choice, but what he was going to do with it, he wasn’t certain. He took a closer look at the undead boy’s slight frame and guessed that he could easily lift the weight. Rowan grabbed him by the shoulders and prepared to move.

  The end result was something closer to laughable than horrifying. Rowan wiped the sweat from his brow and readied himself to climb. The undead boy dangled above him, thrashing his hands out by his side, his head and face hidden by the jacket. The whole endeavor took a lot out of Rowan and a long look at the darkness above left a doubt in his mind. He wasn’t sure he had the strength in him to finish the climb let alone pull his prize up after him if he did. He took a drink from his canteen and accepted the truth of his situation. No one was going to come to his aid; if he was going to get out, he was going to have to do it one hand over the next.

  25

  The frantic race against time pushed everyone to the brink of collapse. Marcus led the small group to the edge of Cheyenne with Mia’s help then pushed them on through the night. They kept north for a long time, trying to avoid the wide-open fields beyond the city’s border. The high grass provided cover, but the snow made the terrain difficult to cross.

  They’d lost one of their own in the confrontation with the infected and most of the others were wounded in one way or another. Mia still wasn’t sure how bad off the damage was to her head. She was forced to let Bree wrap the wound on her forehead in order to stop the bleeding. Mia managed to run on her own after a time, but her legs were never as surefooted as she needed. The result left her tripping in the
snow more times than she could count.

  Mia concentrated on keeping one foot in front of the other. The chatter of their pursuers clung to them throughout their escape from the city. Silence returned once they reached the outlands and there was nothing but the muffled sound of crunching snow beneath their boots as the first sliver of light rose from the horizon. Marcus brought the company to a stop and they gathered around him.

  “Not much farther,” he announced looking from one set of eyes to the next. “We should reach Canaan before the sunrise.”

  Most of the onlookers nodded, lacking the breath to speak. Mia took a long swig from her canteen then offered it to Bree. The girl took it and finished off the contents. Mia’s mind was already on what lay ahead. She pushed herself out to the center of the circle, resting on her knees at Marcus’ side.

  “Spread the word,” she said, “the moment we reach the compound. Everyone with the strength to fight needs to be ready.” Mia raised her voice to make sure they were paying attention. “Those who can fight will help clear the way for those who can’t. The survivors will make their way to the gardens.”

  Bale shifted then got to his feet.

  “Did you forget what’s following us?”

  Mia shook her head.

  “We’ll guide them east away from the compound then rely on Marcus and his teams to get us back to Cheyenne.”

  She knew there was a great number of what ifs in her plan, but it was the best she had. Mia would have to convince the tribal council that there was no other way. Her mind was made and she understood the consequences no matter how much it hurt. If Rowan couldn’t find the nexus, she would never see her brother again. The faces of the others told her that they also understood what it meant. Bale nodded.

  “Then let’s get going.”

  It wasn’t long before Marcus once again proved his worth and experience. The glowing embers of dying campfires dotted the snow in the distance. The horizon lightened enough to reveal the remains of the Canaan compound. Figures moved between the fires and the gap in the snow leading down to the entrance of the hive.