Tribes Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 1)

by Michael W. Garza

“Why bother anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe this has something to do with the infected gathering.”

  “You mean, maybe you can show my father that you were right.”

  “He already saw that for himself.” He studied her face. “You should get back.”

  “What? No way,” she said. “I want to help you.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t make me go.”

  She was as stubborn as a mule and Rowan knew it. He tried another approach.

  “What about Jonah?”

  She glared at him.

  “He’s safe,” she said.

  “And what about your father?”

  “He can’t be any madder at me than he already is.”

  Rowan doubted that.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do next.” He could see her going over it in her mind. “I’m not going to try to make you do anything.”

  Mia let down her guard and came to him. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “I can’t lose you,” she whispered.

  He forced her to look at him and then kissed her.

  “You won’t have to.”

  6

  Rowan awoke before sunrise. He slept sounder than he thought possible. Mia stayed with him throughout the night, lying closer to one another than the two had ever spent in their lives. Rowan wanted to get moving; he knew that Arkin would have a hunting party out looking for his daughter the moment he realized she was missing. Mia was convinced no one would know until she failed to start her morning chores, but Rowan wasn’t so sure.

  “Hey, lazy.” He shoved her gently. “You going to get up today?”

  She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes.

  “No.”

  He pushed her again and then got to his feet.

  “Then I guess I’m leaving you here.”

  “All right, I’m getting up.”

  They gathered their things and shared an apple Mia brought with her. Their apparent lack of supplies was a glaring problem that neither of them wanted to admit. Food was a difficult thing to come across out in the dead city. The tribe had mastered the skill of growing the crops they needed in rooftop planting beds, but that luxury was no longer an option. The infected learned a long time ago that the easiest way to draw victims out was to destroy any food they came across. Hunger would drive people to risk anything to get their hands on something to eat.

  Food and supplies were only a few of the growing concerns that Rowan found tumbling around in his mind. He put on a smile for Mia. He was hopeful that he could talk her into returning to the tribe, but the swelling on her face made it difficult to consider what her father might do to her. Mia was ready to go and the duo pushed away the assortment of broken furniture they used to bar the door. The hallway was as quiet as the night before, but the streams of light flooding in from the open doorways made the trek appear less treacherous. Rowan started them off and a few moments later they were down on the first floor scouting out the street in front of the building. He had a general idea about how to get to the water tower, but his memory was fuzzy on the details. Rowan assured himself that once they cleared the tallest of the dead city’s buildings, they would spot the tower and be able to guide themselves the rest of the way.

  “How long will it take?”

  Mia’s whispered question was the first words either of them spoke since they left the building. Rowan shrugged and then peered behind them. She wasn’t convinced on the plan to find the wanderer, but Rowan had nothing else. They reached an intersection beyond the first few buildings and had to run out into the open in order to get to the next block.

  “Darian and I got turned around,” he said, keeping his eyes on the entrances of the buildings across from them. “If we can at least see the tower, we should reach it before dark.”

  “Did you two run into trouble?”

  The question was a particularly sticky one. The truth was that Darian had nearly gotten them killed. They’d stumbled across a large pack of infected. The group had tracked down a number of people trying to get across the city and trapped them. The scene wasn’t a pretty one. Darian convinced Rowan that they had to try to help by getting some of the infected to follow them. The plan worked perfectly to a point. Most of the infected ran after Rowan and he had to dash through a series of buildings to get away, nearly losing Darian in the process. They never did find out if the people they tried to help ever survived.

  “We had our share,” he finally said, avoiding the specifics. “There’s no telling what the streets are like now.” He flipped his hand up, satisfied with the stillness around them. “Let’s go.”

  They continued with the rush and wait pattern for a time and reached the center of the city as the sun rose to its highest point in the sky. The afternoon heat did little against an eastern blowing wind. There was enough crisp, cold air in the open streets to bring a cherry red highlight to exposed skin, a stark contrast to the day before. Adrenalin kept Rowan warm for a while, but any time spent standing in the shadows of the buildings produced shivers. He tried to keep his focus on the endless entrances and exits, but a growing roar from his stomach became impossible to ignore.

  “The dead can hear that you know.”

  Rowan wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you brought it up,” she flashed a smile, “we’re going to have to eat eventually.”

  Rowan nodded. “I didn’t have time to pack for the trip.” Mia’s smile faded. “Let’s get to the water tower and see if there’s any sign of the wanderer.” He turned to face her. “We can reach the old gardens before sundown.”

  Mia swallowed then nodded. Rowan knew what she was thinking. The old gardens hadn’t actually been gardens since long before Rowan and Mia were born. The area was named after one of the last attempts of the living to reestablish a community. They’d managed to build a small, but sustainable town in the center of the decaying remains of Cheyenne. The tribe’s records called it one of the first accounts of the infected forming in groups, focused on a common purpose. It wasn’t an army by any means, but the infected came in waves. They drew the last of the living from one side of their fortification to the other. Smaller groups herded the dead into the openings left behind in the chaos. Once the infected got inside, the town was done for. Some believe the few people who escaped the fight were the original members of the Cheyenne Tribe.

  “Are you sure there’s enough time?” Mia asked.

  Rowan peeked around the corner of the building, leaning out as far as he could without taking a step. “Come here,” he said. “Look.” Mia slid out behind him and followed his hand to the edge of a structure a few streets away. The side of the water tower was nearly hidden between a pair of high-rises. “He’ll either be there or he won’t.”

  The water tower stood out on the horizon like a beacon the moment they crossed the street. They were a block away before Rowan finally came to stop. The entire base of the tower was comprised of a series of long, metal beams. The four structural beams were littered with decaying, dismembered bodies. The ground was burnt and blackened. Rowan’s eyes ran along the beams, finding the ladder entrance in shambles mid-way up the side. It appeared as if the door on top of the container had been torn apart. A smear of bloodstains around the entryway left little hope for survivors.

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” Mia said. “I can’t believe he’d survive up there very long by himself.”

  “Who knows how long he’s been coming here.”

  “Someone’s had to have seen him get in and out of there,” she said. “There’s more than the dead and infected to worry about around here.”

  Her warning was an important reminder. The Cheyenne Tribe got its moniker from the long dead city, but they were far from the only living people claiming ownership of the
land. Cheyenne was littered with small clans, most of which lived as scavengers, but others were as nefarious as the walking dead or the infected. Rowan started toward the base of the tower and Mia grabbed his shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We have to check and see if he’s up there.”

  “No we don’t.” Her eyes ran up the side of the closest beam and settled on the top section. “We’ll have to figure out another way.” She shook her head.

  “It won’t take me very long, wait here and—”

  The sound was low, but out of place. Growing up in and around the decaying city had taught every member of the tribe how to listen for danger. The expanding size of Mia’s eyes validated the sudden pounding of Rowan’s heart. She already had her knife drawn and her legs spread for balance.

  They poured out into the street from a darkened doorway of a building adjacent to the water tower. Rowan counted half a dozen before he turned to run. He kept Mia in front of him, pressing on her back with one hand, trying to get her to move faster. It only took a few strides before the nimbler of the two started to pull away.

  The trailing group yelled at them in a perverse mix of dead-speak and animal calls, a telltale sign of the countless clans throughout the city that viewed the tribe as an enemy. Rowan had seen enough to know they weren’t infected and they were too fast to count among the undead. Several arrows whizzed by Rowan, missing their mark by a few inches. The growing roar of the pursuers told him they weren’t going to be able to outrun them.

  “We need to get inside one of those buildings,” he called out.

  “Which one?”

  “Any one!”

  Mia turned so fast Rowan nearly sprained his ankles trying to follow her. She dashed through a tall, broken window before he could reach her. Rowan leapt into a ground floor littered with debris. It took him a moment to find Mia; she was already heading up a wide staircase in the center of the building. He bound up the steps, four at a time, turning one floor up as the staircase bent back in the opposite direction.

  Rowan would have tried one of the wide doors between floors, but Mia was too far ahead of him to stop her. The sounds echoing up the staircase confirmed that their pursuers were closing in. He pushed himself until his legs ached and his lungs burnt. He reached the top floor and found Mia pushing on a door with all her strength.

  “It’s locked,” she said then ran to the banister and took a glimpse at the stairs all the way down to the ground floor. Her face told Rowan all he needed to know. He started kicking on the door and she pulled him away. “Up there.”

  Mia pointed at a ladder bolted to the wall, ending at a hatchway. Rowan pushed past her and started up. She climbed on behind him as howls boomed up the stairs toward them. He slammed his shoulder into the underside of the hatch before he caught sight of the rusty lock holding it in place.

  “Go.”

  Mia pushed up on his butt as she shouted frantically. Rowan heard the clear sound of stomping feet closing in and the rising panic consumed him. He smashed his shoulder into the underside of the hatch, banging his head on the metal plate in the process. The hatch dinted from the hit, but the lock wouldn’t give. Rowan slammed into it again and didn’t stop until the thin metal bent down the center. It took two more strikes before the ring holding onto the lock snapped and the entire top flipped up through the breach.

  Rowan pushed into the tight opening and reached back down to help Mia up. They were standing on the roof and a desperate search didn’t produce anything that might aid in their escape. Mia rushed off to the far edge of the building overlooking the entryway while Rowan focused on the stairs. She was yelling something at him when he saw a figure round the last stairwell landing.

  “What?”

  He glanced back and was stunned to find Mia having a conversation with someone. She waved him over and he abandoned his view as the full group of pursuers started up the stairs toward the ladder.

  “We’re not looking to cause any trouble,” Mia said.

  The new arrival was standing on the roof of the adjacent building. He wore a long black coat over a haggard shirt and dirty britches. Most of his face was hidden under a mess of unkempt facial hair as gray as ash and topped by the wide brim of a floppy hat.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Rowan said, pulling on Mia’s arm.

  She yanked away and kept pleading. Rowan didn’t understand her insistence until he looked out over the distance between the buildings and then spotted the long plank of wood the man was resting one of his boots on.

  “You’re the wanderer,” he said after a sudden recognition. “We were looking for you.”

  The assertion appeared to grab the man’s attention.

  “Why?” he asked, in a gruff voice.

  “We found something,” Mia said, her heightened nerves evident in her rising volume. “Something from the old world.”

  He studied the duo as if their facial expressions might give them away.

  “What did you find?”

  Rowan’s hands shook violently as he dug through his pack. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone pulling themselves up through the hatch from the floor below. Rowan held up the device and showed it. Mia turned to face the coming attack, holding her knife out in defense. Rowan didn’t give up; he held the device up like a piece offering for the wanderer to see.

  “Hurry up,” the wanderer said at last.

  Rowan forced Mia up on the ledge and the moment the end of the plank hit the concrete edge, she was moving. Rowan couldn’t wait. A quick count told him at least three of their pursuers had reached the roof and were heading in their direction. The plank shook the moment his boots touched the wood and Mia had to throw her arms out wide to keep herself balanced. She managed a nasty glare over her shoulder before rushing across the rest of the way.

  “Move your ass!”

  The wanderer shouted then grabbed his end of the plank. Rowan took two long strides and the board wobbled beneath his feet. He was in the air when the wanderer yanked the wood out from under him. Rowan hit the adjacent rooftop with a hard thud. He was trying to wipe off the small rocks embedded in his face when Mia pulled him to his feet.

  “Keep your head down.”

  Rowan felt a sudden burn in his leg as pain erupted from his thigh. A series of arrows flew by them before Mia and Rowan dashed between a pair of exhaust vents in search of cover. Rowan found himself on his knees, his body hovering over Mia. Her face was close to the ground, with her hands over her head. The wanderer was across from them, his eyes scouting out the other side of the roof.

  “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 stan
ding 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.