Season Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 2) (14 page)

The view was a familiar one. The dead were loosely gathered throughout the hall, but there were too many to try to slip by without a confrontation. Their slumbering turns toward him told Rowan he could not wait them out. The pressure built in his chest as panic crept through his mind. He was trapped and he knew it.

Rowan steadied himself and prepared to fight. A bellowing cry shook his confidence to the core. The blaring yell came from beyond the meandering dead. Rowan didn’t need to see the infected to know one was rushing toward him from the darkness.

Rowan caught the emaciated man in the light as it pushed through the dead, knocking one to the ground. The golden glow of his eyes locked on to Rowan with fierce hate and horrendous bloodlust. Spit flew from its jaws as it roared again. The infected man closed in with tremendous speed and Rowan squeezed the trigger then stopped at the last moment. He watched dumbfounded as the undead reached out and grabbed the infected man as he tried to rush past. The creature threw the man onto the ground, dropped down on his knees, and bit into his throat. Blood gushed from the wound as the zombie pulled back, allowing the crimson fluid to spill all over the floor.

The unfolding scene stunned Rowan. The infected man’s limbs lashed several times before falling lifeless onto the pool of his own blood. The zombie stood up and wiped the blood from his chin onto its sleeve before facing Rowan. The rest of the dead littering the passageway turned away from the event, retreating farther down the hall.

Rowan held his lantern up, focusing the beam as his apparent savior stepped into the light. He kept his gun aimed on a set of rotting teeth. His trigger finger tensed then froze as the mouth parted into a smile. A hint of recognition stung him as the face pulled into the lantern’s beam. Rowan nearly dropped the gun as its mouth opened and it spoke.

“Now there’s a familiar face.”

14

“You’re missing a tooth.”

Jonah heard Tate, but it took him a few seconds to get his eyes open. The blinding light reflecting off the snow forced him to slam them shut again.

“You lost a tooth.”

“I heard you,” Jonah said and forced his eyes open. He squinted and allowed the blurred vision of his friend to solidify. “Where are we?”

His view was angled and he realized he was leaning against a tree. He was surprised to find his feet still untied, but a tug of his hands revealed the truth of their situation. Tate was next to him, their hands bound together, and another tie connecting the two boys around the base of a tree trunk.

“That wasn’t the best plan you’ve ever had,” Tate said.

That much was true. Jonah took a moment to gather himself. The more he shook the haze from his mind, the more the pain worsened. His head felt heavy, twice the size it should be.

“It’s more to the side,” Tate said. “One of the top ones.”

Jonah smiled and tried to slide his tongue into the space of his missing tooth. Tate laughed.

“Don’t smile, it makes you look ridiculous.”

Jonah managed to laugh at himself and instantly regretted it. Pain rose up the front of his face and settled on his temples.

“What happened?”

Tate took a look around before continuing. He turned back apparently satisfied with their relative safety.

“You got punched in the face.”

Jonah rolled his eyes.

“I know that part.”

He smiled again to show his missing tooth.

“And after that,” Tate continued, “Kagan grabbed me by the hair.” He shook his head. “Nearly tore my hair out. One of the soldiers picked you up.” He paused and his eyes swelled as he stared blankly at Jonah. “I thought they were going to kill us.”

“I think they’re going to anyway,” Jonah said off-handedly.

“Don’t say that,” Tate said, snapping back to the moment. “I thought they needed us for something.”

“Maybe, I’m not so sure,” Jonah admitted. “They were looking for that dead boy, the one they call the nexus.”

“Dr. Olric seemed to know who you were,” Tate reminded him.

Jonah nodded slowly as he reworked the information through his mind. He couldn’t come up with any good reason why Dr. Olric might need them alive.

“We’ve met,” Jonah said. “I bloodied his nose once.”

Tate pulled back.

“You what?”

Jonah chuckled.

“It’s a long story.” He studied the encampment with renewed interest. “You don’t bring an army like this to try and capture a boy, even if he is a zombie.”

“So what else are they doing?” Tate asked.

Jonah shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I’d bet it’s something bad for Canaan.”

The boys were left to themselves for the remainder of the day. The soldiers moved in waves. Patrols came in from the east and settled in unclaimed sections of the camp. Fires sprang to life as night set in and an assortment of smells hung in the air. The first of the supper plates were handed out and the full size of the enemy was put on display.

Jonah couldn’t imagine a force so large could be comprised solely of the remains of the commission’s loyalists from Canaan. The logical conclusion pointed to the existence of other compounds and a possible joining of forces. Jonah was certain none of it was good for the newly formed tribe. He marked his time by gathering details, in the hope that he’d live long enough to pass on the information.

The camp was set up into distinct positions. The mounted soldiers controlled one entire end of the camp, their horses tied along a series of posts. The ground soldiers were positioned along the front line. It was difficult to spot the details of their armament, but only a portion of them carried guns. The others were armed with knives and bows and arrows.

A number of smaller gatherings dotted the snow between the soldiers and larger tents in the rear of the encampment. Jonah was surprised to find kids, some much younger than him, fighting over food. Several of the soldiers delighted in the sport of throwing scraps out into the snow to watch the young ones nearly kill one another over the opportunity to get something to eat. He shuddered at the thought of having to join one of the groups.

“We should probably let you starve.”

Kagan’s voice snuck up on the boys. He was a few steps away before either of them saw him. He was holding a chunk of meat, slicing through it with his knife. Steam rose from the skin as he cut into it.

“Not sure why either of you are worth the trouble really,” he said. “What is it Olric wants with you?” He crouched down in front of Jonah still focused on his food. He finished his cut then slid the bite into his mouth. “Come on now, it might be worth some food.”

Jonah shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Kagan flashed an awful smile.

“Don’t lie to me boy,” he said, holding his blade up in front of his face. “I’ll slice one of your ears off.”

He dropped the meat into the snow then grabbed the side of Jonah’s face. Kagan sliced into Jonah’s earlobe before he realized what was happening. Jonah tried to pull away from his grasp, screaming as he did. Blood ran down the blade before he stopped.

“Leave him alone,” Tate yelled as he struggled against his binds.

Kagan pulled back and admired the blood. He eyed Tate coldly.

“There doesn’t seem to be any good reason why we need the both of you,” he concluded. “I’ll ask you again,” he said to Jonah. “Tell me why Olric is interested in you or I’ll cut your friend open.”

Kagan reached out for Tate and Jonah gave in.

“He thinks there’s something special about Rowan.”

Kagan stopped.

“Who, this one?” he asked, pointing the tip of his knife at Tate.

Jonah shook his head again.

“No.”

Kagan pulled back.

“What’s so special about Rowan?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, then blurted out, “I swear I don’t. It was something to do with his blood.”

“You know about the nexus?” Kagan asked.

Jonah nodded. Kagan stood up and smiled.

“Well then, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

He took a step forward, and the moment his boot hit the snow, a blaring horn rang out in the distance. Kagan stopped and his head spun around awkwardly, trying to look in several directions at once. He lost complete interest in the boys as a noticeable concern washed across his gaunt face. He slipped his knife in a sheath attached to his belt and made a full turn.

“Shit,” he grumbled under his breath, still searching for direction. “That’s all I need.”

The horn sounded again, and this time, Kagan’s eyes locked on to something. Jonah followed his stare to a group of riders beyond the eastern edge of the camp. The last of the evening light hid the details of the new arrivals, but there was a noticeable tension sweeping across the soldiers. Kagan took one hesitant step away from the boys before looking back.

“We’ll finish this later.”

Jonah heard the threat, but his attention was still on the horsemen. The group strode through the camp at a leisurely pace. Their presence had an immediate impact on the soldiers. Men and women scurried into their meager tents and those forced to remain out in the open did their best to look busy.

“What do you think that’s all about?” Tate asked.

Jonah shrugged. The head of the group was close enough to make out and the initial look indicated they were military men. They wore the uniform of the larger force, but their insignias and patches were far more impressive. The headman observed the crowd with an inspective eye, not one of the soldiers daring to hold his gaze.

He wore a terrible scowl on his square-jawed face. His uniform clung to him in a perfect fit, not a single thread out of place. A number of weapons adorned both the belt around his waist and the bags slung along his saddle. The men flanking him appeared to offer comments about the state of the camp, but he neither acknowledged them nor responded.

A series of commotions drew Jonah’s attention to the larger tents at the rear of the camp. Several flaps pulled open at the entrances of the shelters and a familiar figure stepped out from the largest of the bunch. Dr. Olric set his good eye on the arrivals and started toward them. The paths of both sides met directly out in front of the boys.

Dr. Olric stood in front of the lead horse, eyeing the animal with some disdain. He glanced up at its rider with fleeting interest. The rider took his time dismounting then adjusted his uniform before acknowledging Dr. Olric’s presence. The two men spoke briefly before each of them glanced in Jonah and Tate’s direction. The brief look was enough to renew Jonah’s fear for his life.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Tate admitted. “Have you seen that one before?”

Jonah shook his head.

Dr. Olric looked past the man as he spoke and the lack of eye contact was met with a fierce glare. The two men fell silent, each apparently protesting the other’s position of authority. Dr. Olric gave in first and turned toward the boys then motioned for the others to follow him. A procession of the front four riders trailed Dr. Olric while the others waited by the horses. Jonah took in the sight and the fear cut straight through him.

“This one,” Dr. Olric announced when they were a few strides from the boys. His enormous paw reached out and he pointed at Jonah. “We can use–”

One of the horsemen spoke up, cutting through Dr. Olric’s explanation.

“Commander Zeke, we must finalize our course.”

The reaction from Dr. Olric was both immediate and terrifying. The mammoth of a man took one long step past Commander Zeke and snatched his associate up by the throat. The man reached for a knife, but Dr. Olric grabbed his hand before he could slip it out. The man was left gasping. Dr. Olric remained silent until a noticeable shade of violet filled the man’s pasty white cheeks. Commander Zeke watched the scene unfold with a slight grin. Dr. Olric’s message was simple.

“Do not interrupt me again.”

He let go of the man and stared him down as he stumbled back. The other men backed out of the way as if they might be pulled into the fray for offering even a hint of assistance. Dr. Olric straightened himself up to his full height then turned back toward the boys. He pointed at Jonah again.

“We can use him,” he said. “He arrived with the pure sample I briefed the commission on.”

Commander Zeke looked down on Jonah, jutting his chin as he examined him.

“And the other boy?”

Both men turned their gaze to Tate. Dr. Olric’s determination was painfully direct.

“He’s of no use.”

The two men turned on their heels and the trailing party scurried to get out of their way.

“What did he mean?” Tate asked in a petrified voice. “Jonah, what are they going to do with us?”

Jonah didn’t have an answer and their captors gave him little time to consider it. The horsemen who’d been on the unfortunate end of Dr. Olric’s ire approached the boys, calling out orders as he did.

“Bring me a pair of feed bags.”

A flurry of commotion erupted near the horses as a man leapt down and rummaged through his saddlebags. He reached the caller a moment later and handed over the bags.

“What are you going to do?” Tate’s voice shook as they closed in. “Just leave us here,” he pleaded. “We won’t tell anyone.”

Jonah’s worried pleas were stuck in his throat. The binds connecting him and Tate were cut and they were forced to their feet.

“Jonah.” The fear in Tate’s voice was overwhelming. “Jonah,” he repeated before one of the horsemen slipped a sack over his head. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” he asked, his words muffled beneath the bag.

“Don’t worry,” Jonah said as the other dirty sack was dropped over his face. “Wherever we’re going, we’ll go together.”