The Decaying World Saga (Book 1): Tribes of Decay (31 page)

He backed into the woods as the infected rushed in after him. Only three remained, the others lying dead out in the snow. The mob of undead were still making their way out beyond the buildings. Rowan prepared himself and brought his knife up ready to strike.

The infected burst into the woods shrieking out in their foul dead-speak. One of them locked on to Rowan and charged directly toward him. There was no time to strike without absorbing the impact, so Rowan did the next best thing. He waited until he could feel the breath of the infected man then dropped down, bending at the waist. The man’s momentum kept him moving forward and Rowan drove his shoulder into his gut and stood straight up. The result sent the infected man into the air, flipping once, then slamming into the tree behind them.

Rowan spun around and dropped to his knee as the infected man tried to get up. Lines of spit gushed from his jaws as he bit at the air. Dark stains of dried blood covered his neck and the top of his frayed shirt. Rowan’s move was quick, plunging his knife into the infected man’s throat. A hard pull ripped the blade out one side almost slicing the head clean off in the process.

Rowan was up, but before he could gather his senses he was knocked back to the ground as something bowled into him from behind. He heard the nefarious growl as his face struck the frozen ground. The hit blurred his vision but his instincts kept him moving. Rowan rolled on to his back a moment before another of the infected leapt down on top of him. The impact forced the air from his lungs and knocked the knife from his hand. Rowan lay defenseless as the vile woman wrapped both hands around his face and leaned in for the kill.

The golden hue of her eyes held Rowan in place, the sheer terror shocking his senses. He felt the tug of her teeth against the side of his throat. The moment the pressure of the bite began, it stopped. The infected woman’s full weight came down on his chest and it took him a moment to realize she’d stop moving.

The haze cleared from his eyes then he pushed up and rolled the woman’s lifeless body to one side. Blood spurted from a sizable wound in the side of her head. Bree leaned over the body and gave her another stab for good measure. Bale was behind her, the last of the infected at his feet.

Rowan sat up on his butt then took Jonah’s outstretched hand. He found his knife and slid it back into his belt as Gabriel and Tate stepped out from behind the trees. They were all smiling at him and he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of their enjoyment of the situation. Rowan took a deep gulp of air and focused on Jonah. He pulled him close and relayed a new and important instruction.

“Don’t tell your sister.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael W. Garza
often finds himself wondering where his inspiration will come from next and in what form his imagination will bring it to life. The outcomes regularly surprise him and it's always his ambition to amaze those curious enough to follow him and take in those results. He hopes that everyone will find something that frightens, surprises, or simply astonishes them.

www.mwgarza.com