Season Of Decay (The Decaying World Saga Book 2) (26 page)

They reached the turn and found the long hall congested with people moving between the doorways. News had obviously spread fast and it was hard to imagine the full impact. Mia guessed fear would drive a majority of the tribe to stick together and prepare to move to the gardens. She was more concerned with the fringe groups that might quickly form and search for another escape.

Mia helped Sara up the first set of stairs then into the main corridor. The chaotic disorder was at its worst along the entrances to the personnel quarters. A number of people were already gathering at the hive’s exit with their belongings piled up at their feet.

“This is where we need you,” Mia said to Marcus. “We’re going to have to move in manageable groups.”

Marcus nodded with a determination of someone already two steps ahead.

“I’ll pull together the rest of the scout teams,” he said. “We can assign one to each party and move out as soon as they reach the limit.” He extended a hand to Mia. “Be careful. I’ll see you soon.”

Mia took his hand for a firm shake before he spun around and ran off. The departure brought Mia and Sara to a full stop. Sara eyed the turmoil at the far end of the hall before turning her eyes on Mia. The sadness on her face was easy to see.

“You have your path, young one,” Sara said. “And I have mine.”

Something in the old woman’s words made Mia think they might not ever see one another again.

“The same path,” Mia corrected, “just different ways to get to the end.”

Sara smiled then patted Mia’s hand before she let go.

“There’s no time for long goodbyes,” Sara said. “Have faith in your Rowan. That one is full of surprises.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mia replied. “I can’t leave him behind.” She thought about it. “I can’t leave either of them behind.”

Sara tapped her hand again.

“I know, good luck.”

Mia watched her walk away until she disappeared among the sea of people. She held her stare for a moment longer then turned toward the stairs. Time was her worst enemy. She had less than a full day to persuade Asher to abandon his task, pray that Rowan would resurface, and attempt to get her brother back safely.

She took a deep breath then blew it out with considerable force. The way ahead was daunting, and even if she could bring all three of the males in her life together again, they’d be forced to face the enormous horde of dead and infected bearing down on the compound. The weight of it all pressed down on her as she headed for the stairs when a pair of familiar faces appeared on the landing below. Bale and Bree looked up at her with purpose and Mia was instantly lifted. The odds were against her, but at least she wouldn’t be facing the task alone.

26

Rowan pulled himself up through the open elevator door, slid the lantern over the ledge, then rolled onto the floor. It took him several moments to catch his breath. He pushed up off the ground and peered out at the hallway expecting to find the bizarre vision he left behind. The beam of light lit the passage all the way down to the turn. There was no sign of Kuru or the dead.

Rowan gathered himself and turned his back on the view of the hall. He grabbed the rope with both hands and started the draining task of lifting up his catch. The process strained his muscles until he thought that his shoulders might burst. The undead boy never moved for his part, hanging like a fresh kill on the end of the line. He thrashed for a moment when Rowan pulled him up and over the ledge then laid limp on the floor.

“Nice catch.”

The sudden break in silence brought Rowan’s heart to a stop. He spun around, jumping back. The move slid him up against the undead boy lying on the ground and nearly sent him tumbling back down the elevator shaft. Kuru stood in the center of the hall, staring back at him with a smile. Rowan tried not to bare his nerves.

“Where’d your friends go?”

“Not far,” Kuru said. “The infected are closing in on us.”

The revelation pulled Rowan’s attention away from the task of getting the undead boy up and on his feet.

“How are we going to get back out?”

Kuru’s smile widened.

“We’ll use the dead to protect us.”

Rowan had no idea what that meant, but the thought was terrifying on its own. He pulled on his captive and stood him up. The undead boy grabbed his arm, but the jacket wrapped over its head and shoulders kept it from doing any real damage. Rowan slapped its hand away and pushed it into the wall. He got behind it and grabbed a hold of the knot he’d tied with the jacket sleeves then forced the creature to walk.

Kuru moved with a noticeably increased fluidity. Rowan couldn’t account for the change, but he had a nefarious idea as to the cause. Kuru pressed down the main hallway, bypassing the split they’d used to reach the elevator shaft. Rowan made no mention of it, focusing on getting the undead boy to keep moving in the right direction.

The process worked until they reached an open doorway leading into a room where the floor was covered by the remains of the ceiling. Rowan swept the light across the dark open space overhead. The entire ceiling had collapsed, most of it collected in stacks at each corner and another pile in the center of the floor. Two rows of bunkbeds filled the space among the debris, several of them crushed by wide patches of concrete.

“We need to get up there,” Kuru said.

Rowan leaned out into the hall for a momentary glimpse.

“Why can’t we go back the way we came?”

“It’s not safe for you.”

The comment felt forced.

“I thought you could control them?”

“Not the infected,” Kuru said then paused. “And not all of the dead either.”

The response slithered from his mouth in a smoother tone. There was only a hint of the harsh guttural growl that crowded his words before.

“How do you know?”

Kuru took a hesitant step toward their captive and the undead boy froze. It lifted its head underneath the jacket, tilting from one side to the other. Kuru reached out, laid his decaying hand on the top of the jacket, and caressed the material.

“There are some of them,” he said, “who still possess a small amount of themselves.” He shifted his piercing stare toward Rowan and corrected himself. “Some of us.” His hand fell away from the boy and he moved past it toward Rowan. “We represent the future.”

Rowan recoiled as Kuru tried to touch him.

“I’m not one of you.”

Kuru smiled.

“But you are,” he said. “I have your blood inside me,” he pointed at the undead boy, “and his, remember?” He held his arms out wide and his shirt pulled open at the chest, exposing the gaping wound beneath. “We’re one and the same.”

Rowan slid his hand down to his gun.

“We had a deal.”

Kuru remained still, his arms out by his side, now staring at Rowan.

“So, we did.” There was a long uncomfortable silence before Kuru dropped his hands. “Then you need to get him up there.” He lifted his nose into the air and inhaled. “And you need to do it quickly.”

Rowan didn’t need an explanation. He pushed the boy toward the corner of the room to the edge of one of the bunkbeds still standing. Rowan lifted the boy up onto the top bunk then climbed up after it. He was forced to assist Kuru with the climb and the feel of his skin was enough to send shivers down his spine. 

They continued the process until all three were up on the next floor standing on shaky, uneven floorboards. Kuru led them out, now with an obvious anxiousness. There was a renewed sound in the air, heightening Rowan’s fear. The guttural moans of the dead were broken by the howls of the infected. The darkness hid the view in either direction beyond a few strides.

The howls rose in volume as they took a narrow set of stairs between several floors. Kuru paused at the top landing and contorted his body, lowering his shoulders toward the ground. Rowan sensed his hesitation, swept the undead boy’s legs out from under it, and left it lying prone on the floor. He made sure the boy was still before stepping over it then closer to the doorway.

“What are we waiting for?”

Rowan anticipated a response that didn’t come. He turned his attention to Kuru to find his eyes closed, his body shivering in a constant wave. Rowan lowered the lantern to the floor and turned down the light until the glow scarcely reached beyond his body. He kept his eyes on Kuru until a shifting wave pulled him out toward the darkness of the room. Rowan looked back in time to see Kuru’s eyes peel open.

“What did you do?”

Kuru motioned at the chamber.

“I can sense them,” he said, his voice returning to a haunting growl. “We will not reach the landing before the infected hunt us down.”

Rowan felt a sudden urge to turn up the light. He grabbed the handle, brought it close to his face, and adjusted the focal point. One hard turn intensified the light and the beam shot out into the room. The illumination highlighted Kuru’s effort a moment before he explained.

“We need an escort.”

He extended a rotting finger toward a long row of figures glaring back at them. A majority of the dead were dressed in the black fatigues of the commission soldiers, each dotted with the dried crimson stains of both their horrendous end and the heinous acts they committed since. The spectacle was a lot to take in. Rowan glanced from one half-eaten face to another, which contained the creature’s eyes dangling between bits and pieces of an exposed jawbone.

“Will they follow us?” Rowan asked.

“They’ll follow me,” Kuru countered.

Rowan couldn’t shake the haunting view even when he tried to focus on more immediate matters. He managed to turn his back on the nefarious scene, but froze with an unshakable question.

“Can you keep them off of me?”

Kuru didn’t answer for several agonizing moments.

“I believe so,” he said at last.

The response didn’t bring the measure of certainty Rowan had hoped for, but under the circumstances, he’d have to take it. He forced the undead boy to stand then face the opening. Rowan glanced at Kuru.

“Well, I’m not going out there first.”

Kuru grinned then nodded. The moment he stepped out into the open space, the entire line of dead shifted their gaze toward him and the display took Rowan aback. Kuru never spoke to them, but there was certainly a measure of communication going on among them. Kuru waved his hand at the landing and Rowan hesitantly stepped out. He quickly made sure the knotted sleeves holding the jacket over the undead boy’s head was secure then started toward a gap in the wall on the far side of the room.

Kuru moved the trailing crowd of the dead with increased speed, enough so that Rowan felt compelled to jog. A mounting distant sound prodded them on. The infected were coming and they were closing in with every step. It wasn’t long before the terrifying calls echoed all around them. Kuru led the entire procession up a mountain of fallen concrete and chunks of metal to a vaguely familiar space.

“I know this place,” Rowan announced. “The landing exit is near.”

The hall in front of them flashed with a ripple of figures a heartbeat after the recognition. The roar identified them as infected, and Rowan saw momentary slices of their vile faces as the ray of lantern light swept across the space. His knife was out, although he knew it would do him little good. The infected pushed into the room in one massive gaggle, each of them set on draining every drop of blood from Rowan’s body.

“Get behind me.”

Rowan stumbled backwards as Kuru stepped to the center of the room. The trailing dead followed him and the chaos that ensued was a remarkably horrific sight to witness. The dead swarmed the infected with mouths wide open, quickly outnumbering them. The dead tore at the infected as they would any living person, biting at their exposed flesh.

The room erupted with violent wails as the infected were taken by surprise. Rowan saw a look of bewilderment he’d never seen in the ferocious eyes of his enemy. Several of the infected went down before they recognized the need to fight back. Men and women lashed out at the dead with a sudden longing to survive.

Rowan was still until Kuru grabbed his hand. The contact caused him to leap back and snatch his hand away. Kuru did not make a second attempt, instead moving toward the closest wall. Rowan had to force himself to take a step, his eyes locked onto the nearest fray.

A woman was covered in blood, a majority of it her own. Her limbs struck out at the undead attackers clawing at her face and chest. The crying howls erupting from the depths of her lungs lost their rage as she took blow after blow, drowning to a whimper. Three zombies climbed on her as she went to the ground, her eyes still locked onto Rowan as he moved away.

The dead had no pity for their former masters. Kuru’s control appeared to be complete. They fed on the infected bodies with fiendish delight, devouring them as they would the truly living. The entire scene was soon drenched with blood, sending the dead into an unrecognizable animated dance of sorts. They stomped across the floor, trouncing the remains of the infected beneath their feet. The awe-inspiring panorama seized Rowan’s heart in his chest. The power of Kuru was on full display and the horrifying possibilities were undeniable.

Kuru reached the exit and the sight of him stepping out into the hallway compelled Rowan to hurry. His boots splashed through fresh pools of blood, splattering his clothes. Rowan shoved the undead boy ahead of him and his feet shuffled through the muck. The dead moved toward Rowan as he ran, filling him with a renewed sense of terror. He could not allow himself to let Kuru out of his view.

“You’re not telling me the truth.”

The accusation halted Kuru. He spun around in time to bring Rowan and him face to face. Rowan looked into his soulless eyes. He saw no hint of the young man he knew as Garret. The growls of the dead echoed over Rowan’s shoulder, drawing closer as he and Kuru stared one another down. The response crept from Kuru’s lips in a tone that matched the mounting groans of the dead.

“I told you what you needed to know.”

Rowan was instantly aware of his miscalculation. Kuru had known all along what he needed to find. He’d intentionally led him to Connor first in order to gain his freedom without giving up the nexus. He downplayed his ability to control the dead in order to make himself appear harmless. Rowan decided once and for all that he could not allow Kuru to reach the surface. He ground his teeth as he spoke.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Kuru continued forward without so much as a second glance. It was apparent that he had the upper hand. Rowan knew he had one advantage. Kuru’s physical disabilities prevented him from reaching the surface without assistance. Rowan guessed that one flaw was keeping him alive.

Rowan glanced at the dead filing out of the room. Their numbers had dwindled either from the fight with the infected or Kuru’s loss of control. Kuru moved faster than he had at any time before. His wobbling limbs swayed as he sped up and the dead were lost behind them. Rowan’s swaying light provided little relief from the darkness. The maddening march was met by an equally horrendous shriek.

The roar of the infected was undeniable and the sheer weight of the response spoke to the size of the force. Rowan pushed on his captive, driven by the fear of what was hunting them. The meager remains of Kuru’s undead guards would not match the coming surge of bloodlust. Rowan’s mind singularly focused on reaching the exit he knew was up ahead until a relaying roar hit him square in the face. Kuru came to a stop and Rowan knew at once that they were trapped.

“Call them,” Rowan exclaimed. “Call the dead to help us.”

Kuru shook his head as he turned around.

“They won’t reach us in time.”

Rowan tightened his grip on the undead boy’s cover. The abominable thing attempted to pull away for the first time since their climb out of the elevator shaft. Rowan pressed down sharply, snapping the boy’s head back. His eyes fell on their lone remaining option as the roars from the infected ahead of them rose to a glorious thunder.