The Last Infection: A Prequel to the Decaying World Saga

By Michael W. Garza

The Last Infection
The infection swept across the country like a tidal wave. Survivors cling to life as the infected own the night and the dead walk the streets. Chris has endured on his own, and bumping into Jake and Alicen was not in his plans. The young brother and sister have plans of their own, but Chris has heard too many promises of sanctuary and infection-free zones. Jenn’s arrival turns his attention to the one thing he never thought he would face again, hope. They make a pact to reach the safe-haven, but only time will tell if anyone can survive the last infection.

The Decaying World Saga
Our world decayed, and a new world arose from the ashes of the old. The remains of the human race cling to life decades after a decimating global plague. The infected hunt the living as the dead roam abandoned streets craving the taste of flesh.

Book I: Tribes of Decay Mia and Rowan hope to carve out a life for themselves in an apocalyptic wasteland, but fate has other plans. They are forced to leave behind the relative safety of their home after a chance encounter challenges everything they have ever known.

Book II: Season of Decay The Canaan tribe forms from the ruins of their oppressors, struggling to build a new world for themselves, challenged by the rise of a threat within and a familiar foe at their doorstep.

Dive deeper into the Decaying World within the pages of the book that started it all, The Hand That Feeds: A Prequel to The Decaying World Saga. How far will a parent go to keep their child alive? John and Angela Mason’s lives are brought to a tormenting halt when their ten-year-old son is reduced to a lifeless shell. John watches his wife slip into madness as his son rises from the dead. He realizes they must escape the terrifying infection in order to survive, but how can he choose between the insanity consuming his wife and the undying hunger of his son. An appetite for death will come in one form, or another and John is forced to decide on the hand that feeds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: neverhavenpress
• Release date: Mar 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463080566

Michael W. Garza

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 everyone will find something that frightens, surprises, or simply astonishes them.

Book preview

THE LAST INFECTION

A Prequel to the Decaying World Saga

By

Michael W. Garza

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including

photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval

system, without the written permission of the author, except

where permitted by law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or

are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,

locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Michael W. Garza

All rights reserved.

Proofread by Karen Robinson of

INDIE Books Gone Wild.

Before you can see the light,

you have to deal with the darkness.

-Dan Millman

Also by

Michael W. Garza

The Decaying World Saga

The Hand That Feeds

The Last Infection

Tribes of Decay

Season of Decay

Cult of the Elder Mythos

The Elder Unearthed

(A collection of tales)

Vision of the Elder

NeverHaven

Childre of the Mark

Rise of the Elder

Drums in the Abyss

The Shadow Gate Chronicles

The Last Shadow Gate

A Veil of Shadows

1

There was fear in the little girl’s eyes. Alicen was eight years old, and at the moment, the only thing she wanted was not to be eaten. Her older brother Jake had one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. The two kids were held up underneath a truck; their eyes focused on several pairs of feet moving in their direction.

Alicen and Jake’s parents were close but not close enough to help. The parking garage had several floors, but the Bradley family only made it to the second story before their pursuers caught up to them. The news had called the growing mobs the infected. Alicen and Jake heard terrible things from school and their friends. Some called the infected vampires because they wanted blood. Others called them biters because they chewed through your skin. Jake did not know what to think. He only wished he had not heard all the stories that were stuck in his head.

Don’t let them get me, Alicen whispered.

Jake gave her as profound a look as he could muster and then shook his head. Both kids risked a glance underneath the blue SUV parked three stalls over. Their parents’ pleading eyes stared back at them, shifting from the nearing pack of feet back to their children. Their mother was crying with both hands wrapped over her mouth, trying to keep the noise from escaping. The horror on her face told the kids all they needed to know.

I want Mama, Alicen said.

Hold on, Jake said. I told you we have to hide first. He spoke low and moved his lips against her ears so she could hear him. Please stay quiet.

There was nothing in Jake’s twelve years that prepared him for what was happening. He had spent the last few weeks terrified, held up in his family home as his parents tried to figure out what to do. The man on the news promised they would find a cure, and this would all be over soon. That was three weeks ago. A few days later, the news and every other channel went black. The family stayed in the house for a week without going outside.

They’re getting closer.

The horror in his sister’s words pulled Jake’s attention back to the advancing pack of people. He was thankful only to be able to see them from the knees down. The infected had an awful look about them, and they made unnatural lurching motions with their arms that scared the heck out of him. He hoped they would give up and move on, thinking the family had gone farther up in the parking garage. As far as he knew, the infected could not smell any better than anyone else.

Jake counted about a dozen before he stopped. The erratic steps would have given away their nature, but the sporadic growls were an unmistakable sign of what they were. The group moved in a pack, first around a car, then down the lane. They were coming directly toward the kids. The anguish in their parents’ eyes spoke volumes, but there was nothing they could do.

Jake felt Alicen shake, and the violence of it rocked him. He urged her to bury her face in her hands. He did not want her to see what was coming. He had witnessed an attack with his dad at the grocery store, and the vision of that onslaught clung to him. Two men beat a woman as she tried to get in her car, and then before his dad could turn him away, they tore into her, biting at her neck. It scared him more when his dad would not talk about it on the drive home. That was the first time he ever saw his father cry.

The pack was drawing closer, and their guttural sounds grew louder. They were only a few cars away when Alicen raised her head. She looked first at Jake and then over at the nearing group. The shock in her eyes was evident, but Jake could not move fast enough to stop the yelp before it escaped her mouth. The infected stopped all at once and then, in an excited urge, raced forward.

The kids heard their mother scream, but it did not stop Jake from reacting. A moment later, he was out from under the truck, pulling Alicen with him. He heard his father call him, but the full sight of the horde of infected rushing toward him froze his mind with fear. He did not know what he was doing or where he was going, but he was running. He clutched his sister’s hand with all his might and ignored her pull to break free.

The two kids dashed between cars and trucks, breaking out into an open driveway as they passed rows of parked vehicles. A ravaging mad score of shrieks and bloodthirsty screeches echoed across the parking garage as the infected neared. Jake’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He thought the organ might burst from his body at any moment. He heard Alicen’s panting breath behind him, and the weight of her resistance told him she could not keep up for much longer.

He searched for any sign of help but found nothing. He dared not look at their pursuers even as the sound of their shoes smacking the pavement echoed all around them. Alicen cried out with anguish of dread, inhuman to his ears. He felt his heart seize up as the terror of the moment consumed him all at once. The sound of his father’s voice came over the noise in a rush.

Over here.

There was an abrupt end to the trailing chorus of death. Jake risked a look over his shoulder without stopping to focus on what was going on. He saw a glimpse of his father, jumping up and down several rows away. He was yelling at the top of his lungs, saying things Jake would have been grounded the rest of his life for repeating.

Jake could not see his mother, but he could hear her cries. She was still calling out to her children, begging them to get away. His last sight was the full vision of the infected closing in behind him. The faces of the plague-ridden were as twisted and evil as their twitching limbs. Lifeless gray skin clung to their bodies, hanging over their bones. The bloodstains of their heinous acts covered the remnants of the clothes they wore, which was the only hint to who they were before they lost themselves to the madness. The front of the pack charged for the kids, hollering in some vile call, while the rest turned back for the parents.

Run, Alicen, run.

The kids darted between two cars as the infected leaped over the vehicles after them. Outstretched hands swiped at Jake’s head as he urged Alicen to move faster. The volume of screams swallowed them as the mob closed in. Alicen yelled and cried as terror consumed her. Jake was reduced to dragging her until the strength in his arm gave out. He stepped into an open driveway when Alicen’s hand jerked free from his grip.

Jake!

The boy turned back and found several bodies diving over a parked car to get at the little girl. One of them had her by the hair, his body lying across the hood of the vehicle. Sheer panic urged Jake to run, but he found his courage and moved back toward his sister. He grabbed her arm as the first few infected hit the ground and got to their feet.

It was a female among them who had a hand around the back of Alicen’s neck. Only a patchwork of hair remained of the woman’s once long-flowing locks. Gouges in her head revealed bloody wounds and fragments of skull. Her mouth was open, showing teeth stained in an amber hue. Her free hand clawed at the little girl’s neck, drawing blood as she leaned in to bite.

Jake pulled back and threw the first punch of his life he had ever thrown in anger. His fist caught the woman on the bridge of her nose as she leaned in, and it split the decaying dull skin open in an awful gash. The hit was enough to release her grip, and Jake smashed his hand down on the remaining clutched hand and then pulled his sister away. The rest of the infected mob was on them as he turned to run.

The kids dashed down the last open driveway between the cars with their pursuers close behind. The edge wall of the parking structure was directly ahead and coming fast. The concrete barricade rose several feet from the floor, leaving the rest up to the ceiling open to the outside air. The moon loomed large in the distance, its light revealing the outline of adjacent buildings. A cool wind whisked through the opening as a reminder of the long cold winter ahead.

A flash of movement pulled the kids’ attention from the outside view. Their parents were running for their lives on the adjacent driveway between the parked cars. Jake could see his mother was bleeding. Scarlet spots stained her shirt as a fresh flow poured down the side of her head. The boy cried as the weight of the moment pressed on his young mind. His dad urged him to continue running as he slowed, trying to keep his wife moving.

The kids reached the edge of the parking structure, and Jake forced his sister to climb. The infected closed in as he pushed on her backside to get her up on the thin ledge of the barricade. He grabbed the edge once she was steady, and then he jumped and pulled himself up the rest of the way. He sat down on the ledge and discovered the infected only a few feet away. The full ferociousness of their gnashing teeth and ripping clutches froze him stiff.

It was a final yell from his father that shook Jake free. The man rushed between the cars and leaped at the infected, throwing himself at them. The infected turned their attention on him, ripping into his skin. Jake used the time bought from his father’s sacrifice to act. He peered over the edge into a dark alleyway, then grabbed his sister and pushed. The girl’s shrill echoed all the way down until she landed in a dumpster two stories below.

Jake never looked back for his parents. He knew he would never see them again. He angled himself, slipping his legs over the edge, and then pushed off. A rush of cold washed over him as the sensation of falling hit the pit of his stomach. The impact was hard, but he could not find anything broken.

A quick search revealed Alicen was already out in the alleyway. Jake jumped out and grabbed her hand. The girl’s eyes were swollen and red. Jake pulled her close and forced her to look at him.

Stay close to me, you hear? The little girl nodded and tightened her grip on his hand. No matter what, you never let go.

The kids started toward the street, forced to listen to their parents’ dying screams echoing from up above.

2

The shifting movement was a dead giveaway. The sunlight only reached the nooks and crannies of the long-abandoned mall. There was never enough light. Staying inside for too long would only ensure an untimely demise. They would get you, or you starved to death; one of them was a sure thing. You had to keep moving, and at the moment, Chris was trying to do precisely that.

He swore under his breath. He had let down his guard and fallen asleep in what was a sporting goods store before the infection. The mistake left him trapped with only one way out into the rest of the mall. The quad outside the entryway was crawling with a group of infected. He had counted two dozen, but more were coming. Their quick twitching movements identified their infliction at once.

Chris adjusted his grip on his newly acquired aluminum bat as he readied himself to move. Experience told him waiting was not an option. They would figure out how to get into the store in time, and he would not survive against a mob of that size. His only chance was to get out in the open, and by the sounds of their growing howls, his window of opportunity was shrinking.

The main entrance was a suicidal choice, and he knew it. He had survived this long by thinking outside the box, and his next move needed originality. Chris slid the bat between the pull strings on his backpack and tied it off. He pulled the backpack into place and grabbed the base of the clothing stand he was hiding behind. The remaining assortment of Colorado Rockies apparel was the only thing keeping him hidden.

In one quick motion, the clothing stand came off the ground. Chris rushed forward, trying to keep the metal stand leveled long enough to accomplish the task he had in mind. He rushed the tall window farthest from the store’s entrance, and with one final thrust, he pushed it toward the glass. Chris felt the impact through a violent vibration in his hands, and the blow nearly knocked him off his feet. To his shocked horror, the window splintered but did not break. The sound, however, drew all of the attention of the infected in the quad directly toward him.

Crap.

Chris did not consider his options. He managed to lift the stand and push forward. The metal tip hit the center of the pane of glass, this time breaking through with a resounding crash. He dropped his makeshift lance, dashed through the window, and picked up speed as he headed toward the escalators beyond the quad. The erupting sound of bloodcurdling cries echoed across the long vacant shopping center as the infected rushed after him.

Chris risked a look over his shoulder and discovered his initial headcount was woefully low. The mob rushed after him in a loose gaggle, their sole focus on his beating heart. The clothing that once defined their place in life now clung in various states of disrepair, most stained with blood that hinted at a hellacious end. It was the blood they craved, that much everyone was sure, but it was the why and the how that was never answered before the breakdown came.

The infected were fast, not like the zombies they became after death. The speed made them genuinely terrifying. Chris could outrun a horde of undead, but the infected was a whole other matter. The infected were still technically alive, and they retained their physical attributes as long as they fed. If the government discovered how or why the transformation happened, it never made it out into the public before everything went dark.

Flipped tables and broken chairs littered the food court. The smell of rotting produce permeated everything. The cages covering the food stalls were bent and battered from when the first rioters broke in. The stench of the dead was all around. Similar gathering places had been a feeding ground for the first of the infected when the breakout started. Those who could still control themselves in the first stages of the disease willingly sought out the blood of others.

Chris dodged the clutter as his eyes swept across the way ahead. He would have to make it to the first floor, and the escalator he had climbed upon his arrival was the closest option. He did not know what would be waiting for him at the bottom. The sounds reverberating through the open space told him all he needed to know about his pursuers. They were gaining on him.

He would have been furious with himself if he had the time to think about it. He had survived on his own for eight long months and most of that time with little or no help from anyone else. No one made it that long by making mistakes. The only reason he was in the mall in the first place was thanks to a habit he had been forced to kick. At least he thought he had kicked it.

The guy who used to manage the sporting goods store turned Chris on to a dealer. Why in the hell he thought the guy would still be held up in the store was beyond him. Addiction was a funny thing. He would run out of smack three months after everything went to hell. Detoxing alone in the basement of an apartment building was enough to make him want to die. Now that he was clean, dying was something he wanted to avoid.

His legs cramped, and his lungs burned. He had not eaten much in two days, and the strain on his body was showing in his strength. Long shadows of the infected reached out along the walls around him. They were close now, and he did not have the energy to push himself to move faster. Their panting breath replaced the sounds of their blood lustful shrieks. They were right on top of him, and he knew it.

The way ahead parted, and a glimpse at freedom revealed itself. The escalator had long lost the power to move, but it offered a chance to reach the first floor. The hint of escape was short-lived as a powerful grip took hold of his backpack. Chris was nearly brought to a standstill.

He made one last attempt to get away and drove his feet into the ground. Chris spun his body, sliding his arms out of the backpack straps as he turned. He managed to catch the bat midair and then pull free. He was running again, the sight of the infected fresh in his mind. There were more of them than he had ever seen at once, and his heart raced as panic took complete control of his mind.

Chris took a giant leap and landed on the divider between the escalators. A few unsteady steps forced him to sit and try to slide the rest of the way down. He reached the midway point when the figures at the bottom of the escalators came into view. Their arms slashed violently in every direction as their senses picked up on him. There were two infected, both women, made evident by their exposed chests. Gashes from ripping fingers left an opening in one’s midsection, and the other looked to have lost most of the tissue around her jaw.

They ran directly at him. Chris reached the bottom and leaped from the base of the escalator’s divider. His momentum angled him over the outstretched hands of his welcoming party, but the fall beyond slammed him into a bench. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he had the presence of mind to keep moving. A firm grip took hold of his shirt from behind, and instinctually, he turned, swinging the bat with vicious intent. A quick smash broke the limb at the forearm, but the jawless woman took little notice of the pain. Her eyes were covered with the haunting jaundice shade of the infection, and she would not be denied her meal.

A deafening roar of bloody desire raced down the escalator as the crowd of trailing infected poured downstairs. Chris brushed the broken arm aside and sent his heel to the center of the woman’s chest. He made contact between her exposed breasts, and the bone buckled. Her howls were reduced to gargling drool as she collapsed. The second woman stepped on her fallen companion’s face as she lunged at Chris. He caught her with her feet off the ground, hitting her square in the nose with his fist. Blood splattered as her face was reduced to a broken mess.

Chris focused on the corridor leading away from the atrium. A breeze hit him in the face, promising a way out. He reached another descending set of stairs before he realized where he was. As best he could remember, the main exit to the mall was not far away, and the sounds of the throng chasing after him did not give a moment to spare.

He started for the exit as the wave of infected reached the top of the stairs behind him. He kept his bat at the ready until he reached the boarded glass doors. Chris wiggled his way between the barricaded exits and then edged underneath the chain lock he had avoided on the way inside. The sunlight hit him full force as the heat of a clear Denver day engulfed him. The massive parking lot beyond the entrance was riddled with lifeless cars.

Chris caught a sound in the air between the howls of the infected rushing for the doors behind him. The moans of the walking dead were evident to his trained ears. Any infected not disposed of properly would end up among the scattered shambles moving toward the mall entrance between the rows of vehicles. They moved with slow, purposeful steps. Their wretched wails brought with it an engrained terror. Chris kept moving. He had survived the morning, but there was no promise he would live to see tomorrow.

3

The morning light brought safety. Chris looked out over the Denver skyline as the light worked its way across the building tops. He had not slept in a full day, and the burning in his eyes told him he would regret it. Sleeping during the day was the safest way to go because you did not have to worry about the infected, but Chris was hungry and needed supplies. His mistake in the mall not only nearly got him killed, but he also lost a week’s worth of scavenged provisions.

He got to his feet and settled on a list of things to do for the day. Food was most important, followed closely by a source for fire. Food was essential and not the easiest thing to come by. His tastes had changed over the past several months. He was not above eating dog food if he had to, or a dog for that matter.

He quietly slid his bat from the handle of the rooftop door. Roofs of buildings were his favorite place to rest. The entrances could be secured with relative ease, and there was rarely more than one way in or out. He often searched for a fire escape to get down the outside of a building when the morning came, but his mind was set on the soft light of the vending machine he had seen on the