Tribes of Decay: The Decaying World Saga Book I

By Michael W. Garza

The Decaying World Saga Book I: Tribes of Decay

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. Mia and Rowan hoped to carve out a life for themselves in an apocalyptic wasteland, but fate had other plans. They’re forced to leave behind the relative safety of their home after a chance encounter challenges everything they’ve ever known. Evolution always finds a way...

The Decaying World Saga 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 Hand That Feeds & The Last Infection: Prequels to The Decaying World Saga

The Hand That Feeds

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.

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 weren't 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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: neverhavenpress
• Release date: Mar 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463867419

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

TRIBES OF DECAY

Decaying World Saga

Book I

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 © 2016 by Michael W. Garza

All rights reserved.

Proofread by Karen Robinson of

INDIE Books Gone Wild.

You need to spend time crawling alone through

shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.

-Shaun Hick

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

Children of the Mark

Rise of the Elder

Drums in the Abyss

The Shadow Gate Chronicles

The Last Shadow Gate

A Veil of Shadows

1

The cold, damp air left the heavy vegetation glowing in a thin cover of dew. Morning light crept across overgrown streets and long-abandoned structures. Little remained of the old world. Those who called this place home knew only fragments of the once proud people who believed they had reached the pinnacle of civilization.

Darian was a hunter. He had always been taller than the other boys his age, and his skill with a bow was considered the best among the Cheyenne Tribe. Rowan lived his life in the shadow of his older, admired cousin. The two were as close as brothers. They had been inseparable since they were children. At the age of seventeen, they would be among the next generation to take the test of manhood.

Haven’t we been out here long enough? Darian asked. His skill with a bow was almost as well-known as his questionable sense of humor. I’d be just as happy to spear you and take you back. He laughed as Rowan finally turned around. I’m sure if I skinned you down, no one would even notice the difference.

Rowan was trying to keep Darian focused. It was a task he had been at since they were three years old. Darian never had to try very hard to be good at anything. It annoyed the hell out of Rowan at times, but he had learned to accept it.

Look at the sun. He pointed out beyond the buildings. We haven’t been out that long.

Why don’t we head west? Darian asked.

Rowan eyed him closely. The land west of the city was crawling with the infected, and they both knew it well. The tribe had managed to push most of the infected into the outlands beyond the city before the last harvest. No one was allowed to go out beyond the city limits. The city was bad enough; the dead lurked in the dark corners of every building, and they were challenging to deal with in large numbers.

We can’t play around anymore, Rowan said. We have to bring something back, or we’ll lose favor in the elders’ eyes.

Darian smiled a sly grin. You know as well as I do that the lands in the west are stocked full with game. He had Rowan right where he wanted him. We can stay at the edge of the city, and we’ll be fine.

Rowan wanted to disagree, but he knew Darian was right. In truth, he was tired. They had already drained their waterskins, and the day was looking like a total loss. He tried one last time to think of a better idea as his eyes scanned from one dim entryway to another. The buildings loomed overhead in every direction, their exteriors covered in deep-green foliage that matched the distant surrounding forest. Rowan gave in with a nod, and they were on their way a moment later.

The streets were as silent as the grave. Rowan often wondered what the people of the old world were like, but profound thought was not a particular hobby of his cousin. Rowan knew his place among his people, and he was content with his lot in life. He was proud of his skills, and he was sure the council of elders would make him a full member when the trials began.

Don’t you ever think about what it was like before us? Rowan asked, and Darian’s face drew up as if the question smelled terrible. In the times before the infection. Rowan’s eyes were on the central doorway of a three-story building across the street.

No.

The simple response caused Rowan to freeze in his tracks. He shook his head and laughed. He marveled at what it must be like not to get caught up in reflection. Rowan knew it was a critical difference between the two cousins. Darian was capable of sudden action, and it showed in everything he did.

You think too much, Darian said as he pulled an apple from the pouch dangling off his belt. I bet you’d be a better shot if you spent more time with your bow. The bigger boy pushed Rowan in the back. When I’m the council chief, I’m going to forbid you from thinking about anything longer than me.

Rowan started again, this time laughing. I guess that means I won’t be thinking at all.

♦

Rowan gasped for air and tried to remain perfectly still. He had lost Darian somewhere within the building but was too frightened to retrace his steps and look for him. His knees shook, and he was sure that his deep, panting breaths would give him away. The only light came from a small window at the other end of the hall.

They had reached the edge of the city, and a sprawling valley opened up ahead of them. Moreover, what they found there nearly brought them to their knees. The infected pushed through the high grass in an endless row of bodies. The count was unnamable, and the sheer size too vast for comprehension. Their horrible howls carried on the wind, slithering through the grassland.

Rowan and Darian rushed for cover, seeking refuge in the first building they found. Darkness consumed them, and at some point during the panic-stricken run, they were separated. Neither of them dared to call out. Rowan was alone, and fear clung to him more than ever before.

He could hear the dead closing. Their moaning calls echoed through the dark halls. The tactic was a common one and highly effective. The infected would cover the exterior of the building and send the dead in to flush out the prey.

Rowan cursed himself for falling into the trap. He could not shake the nefarious vision of the horde crossing the field. He could not remember ever seeing a group so massive. He would have to get word to the council. The sound of footsteps reminded him that he needed to live long enough to get out of the building before he would have to worry about delivering the news.

He notched an arrow and tried to gather his bearings. He had lost himself in his mad dash but guessed at the direction of the stairs. Rowan took three hesitant steps before another sound froze him still. He considered his surroundings and then quickly put his bow away and pulled the knife from his belt.

The moaning grew louder, and a rush of sounds followed. Figures shifted within the shadows of a room on the other side of the hall, and Rowan rushed toward the opening. He peered through the doorway in time to watch Darian’s knife plunge through the skull of a zombie. The blade dug through the top of the head and burst from its mouth. Darian let the creature fall to the floor and then managed to flash his cousin a smile before he waved him over.

I’m glad you’re having fun, Rowan whispered. You know we’re trapped in here.

Darian’s smirk faded. We need to go up.

We’ll get stuck.

We’ll just have to wait them out then.

Rowan shook his head. Did you see the size of the horde?

We’ve seen worse.

Rowan was going to disagree, but a new sound pulled his attention back to the hallway. The slithering-speak consisted of a series of grunts interchanged with words. Rowan’s heart thumped in his chest. The infected were coming in after them. He felt his hands shake as his mind raced.

We’ve got to go now, Rowan said, but Darian was already moving. We can’t get trapped in here.

Darian waved him off as he approached the doorway. He held still for a moment before peeking out into the hall. Rowan’s eyes adjusted enough to see Darian signal him forward. They stepped out into the hall only a foot apart.

The darkness played havoc on Rowan’s mind. He swore there was movement up ahead, but Darian continued. The dead-speak grew, now joined by quickening steps. The echo in the hall made it impossible to tell which direction the sounds were coming from. The cousins were a few steps from a crossway when something rushed them from the shadows.

The howl gave it away. Its lashing movements were a standard mark of the infected, and the dim light revealed it. Pale gray skin covered his naked body. Open sores on his cheeks and chest showed through to the tissue beneath. Scarlet stains covered him from head to toe, hinting at the horrific acts of his bloodthirsty desires.

Darian dove instinctively and slid across the debris-laden floor, leaving Rowan face to face with the fiend. He brought his knife up as the infected man lashed out at him. The blade stabbed into his forearm, and the force of the blow dug straight into the bone. The infected man grabbed Rowan’s shirt, oblivious to the damage to his limb. He pushed Rowan back, snapping his teeth together as he leaned in for a bite. A foul breath escaped his open jaws, saturating the space with a vile mix of sickness and vomit.

Rowan was down on one knee, pushing back the full weight of his attacker. The man roared in maddening rage, and several echoed replies filled the hallway from both directions. Rowan pulled his knife free and rolled out from under the attack. He spun around in time to see Darian slam into his attacker, his knife digging into the infected man’s chest up to the hilt. The man staggered back, pulling himself free from the blade, and then gave one last screech before collapsing to the floor.

The sound of the struggle drew the infected in, and Rowan caught sight of figures rushing toward them. He grabbed Darian’s sleeve and pulled him into an open doorway. A moment later, the door was closed, with both boys dragging battered desks across the room to stack against the entrance. They leaned behind the makeshift barrier and braced for impact.

We have to keep moving, Darian said.

They were already running when the infected reached the barricade. The impact reverberated throughout the room, and the initial shot sounded like an explosion. The cousins burst into a long open bay and rushed down a center aisle lined with rows of crumbling desks on either side. Their feet kicked up decades of dust with every step, leaving a cloud of dirt in their wake.

They reached the center of the open space when a thundering clamor signaled that the infected had broken through the barricaded door. The shrieks that followed announced that they had been spotted. The sound of a stomping assault echoed through the adjoining room in a tidal wave of noise. Rowan followed Darian to the end of the chamber, and the bigger boy burst through a partially open door and out into the main corridor.

Several figures lunged toward them as a mass of outstretched hands reached for fresh meat. Darian slashed his knife across his body, nearly stabbing Rowan in the process. He managed to ram his blade into the exposed side of one of the infected but could not pull it free. He stretched out for Rowan and pushed him beyond a pair of hands. The hesitation allowed the rest of the infected group to cross the corridor. Rowan saw the haunting, golden hue of their eyes before he started to run again. Darian managed to get ahead of him as the infected closed in.

The heat of their pursuers’ breath surrounded Rowan like a cloud, saturating his skin. His heart leaped to his throat, and terror engulfed his mind. He could hear them all around, calling at him in their dreadful speak. He screamed wildly as panic consumed him.

Darian reached an exit and flung open the door. Light burst into the hall as a hand grabbed Rowan’s arm. He tried in vain to pull away as another hand took hold. Rowan turned to face his inevitable death, and the full sight of the group crushed his hope. The sound of Darian’s war cry broke through the horror as he threw himself at their pursuers.

Rowan pulled free and ran. He covered the remainder of the hall in several leaping strides and then sprang out into the light from the entrance. He could not slow himself until he crossed the street and reached the building on the other side. Darian’s scream pulled Rowan to a grinding halt. He had never heard Darian shriek in horror and, before he turned around, Rowan knew that was precisely what it was.

Darian was on the ground trying to crawl across the entryway. Several pairs of hands had hold of his legs, gouging into his skin. Rowan’s eyes locked onto his cousin’s, and the fear was unmistakable. Darian’s grip failed him as a hellacious roar erupted from the open doorway. He lashed wildly, trying to grab anything within reach. A single word escaped his mouth before he disappeared into the darkness.

Run.

2

It was an unseasonably warm afternoon, the kind that brought the sweat out of every pore. The sun beat down on the top of the decaying city buildings, baking everything in its path. The people of the Cheyenne Tribe went about their routines with little concern for the heat or the high-rise structures they made their homes on top of. The squat dwellings were pieced together with wood and vine, mixed with whatever scraps the builders could find.

Long, expansive walkways lined the sky between numerous building tops, creating a hive society. The design came from a necessity for ease of access and a need for survival. The city streets were once owned by the dead and infected. The height and inaccessibility of the rooftops created a haven for the living. The tribe society survived in that relative safety.

Mia looked out over the city with a heavy heart. Hunting was the primary responsibility of the young men of the tribe, and there was no one better at it than Darian. Her thoughts, however, were on Rowan. As best as she could remember, she had loved that boy before she knew what love was, although neither of them dared to say it. The only thing that mattered to her at the moment was seeing his familiar smile pop up over the edge of the building.

The cousins were late to return. They had been late many times before, but that never made Mia feel any better. Darian had a way of getting Rowan into trouble, and she feared the day he might get them into something Rowan could not get them out of. She wrung out the soaked shawl she was trying to get clean and then tossed it over the clothesline. She finished her chores earlier in the day, and now she was doing anything she could to keep her mind occupied.

Mia finished washing the basket of clothes and turned her back on the city. She headed for the bridge between her building and the tribe’s council of elders. The leaders of the tribe would soon gather and discuss who among the young men would join them as full members. It was something Rowan dreamed about, and she prayed he would be chosen. Among other things, it meant they could finally be married.

Her mind was lost in the events of her wedding night when she reached the council gathering. Her father, Arkin, sat among them. He was next in line to be chief, and she feared what he might do if Rowan was not among the chosen. Mia could not stand the thought of her father choosing another husband for her, although it was his right. She set her basket down near her father’s stoop and then bowed before she approached.

Are you preparing, Father?

He smiled at her for a brief moment, and then his expression hardened. I cannot show any special favor.

She shook her head as she sat down in front of him and crossed her legs. Her handmade shirt and leggings should have been a part of the laundry. The stain across her top was less than appropriate in the presence of the council. She took a second to allow her sudden frustration to fade and then pushed her long bangs out of her face.

I did not ask you for any favors, Father. She hesitated. And neither would Rowan.

He grimaced at the sound of his name. The council has discussed this for some time, and the chosen ones will be given their place among us.

Her father was not saying anything she did not already know. Only council members could marry or own property. All other members of the tribe were held in a lesser status. Rowan’s outspoken questioning of the structure found him at odds with the council of elders and, more importantly, Arkin. Her father had once been the center of her world, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Mia’s relationship with her father had been strained for several years. Her mother died in a terrible attack, and Arkin’s heart hardened, leaving Mia and her younger brother, Jonah, to turn elsewhere for affection and support.

He will—

A horn rang out from the corner of the roof, and Mia’s head snapped around. Someone had been spotted on the streets far below. She was up and running before she finished her thought. A moment later, she had her eyes on someone racing toward the building. A chill trickled down her spine at the sight of the single figure. As far as she knew, no one had gone out alone.

The wait was excruciating. The returner, whoever it was, took a long time to reach the tribal council building. It was even longer before he leaped out of the window in the exterior wall of the eighth story and began the long ladder climb up the remaining floors. The building was abandoned long before the Cheyenne Tribe laid its roots, and the top three stories were impossible to reach from the inside.

The edge of the roof was crowded by the time Mia recognized Rowan’s face. Smears of blood and dirt dotted his dirty blond hair. Mia was shaking and had to back away to keep from toppling over the side of the building. She was grateful to see his return, but she was terrified of the only question in her mind.

Where is Darian?

Rowan reached the rooftop, but he was on shaky legs. Mia threw her arms around him in an unusual show of affection. She could hear several older women grunting their disapproval before she regained her bearings and quickly stepped away. Rowan smiled at her, but she could see right through it.

What happened? she asked.

Rowan opened his mouth but could not find the words. Mia was shocked when she realized he was crying. She felt punched in the stomach. She knew what happened without ever hearing his explanation. She wanted to comfort him; she wanted to say something, but the sound of her father’s voice tore through her thoughts.

That will be enough.

A number of the onlookers quickly scurried off, most of them bowing at the council members as they went about their business. Several of the rooftops of the surrounding buildings sprang to life as news of Rowan’s return spread like wildfire. Mia knew she had no business listening in on the coming conversation, but she fought the will to be shooed away.

What is this all about? Arkin asked, looking past Rowan with little regard. Where is Darian?

We…we got surrounded, Rowan tried to explain. Darian…there were too many of them and—

Arkin shoved Rowan aside and peered over the edge of the building. He rose back up with a bewildered gaze. You left him. Half a dozen of the council members had joined Arkin at the roof’s edge, and a number of them echoed his accusation. You abandoned him like the coward you are.

Rowan stood frozen as the older man rushed toward him. The sunlight reflected off Arkin’s cleanly shaven head and revealed the loathing fury in his eyes. Arkin pushed aside the ceremonial robes wrapped around his chest and grabbed Rowan by the throat with both hands. Mia lunged forward and tried to wedge herself between them.

No, Father, please, she shouted.

Several of the council members pulled at her while the others tried to hold her father back. Rowan fell to the ground as they were wrenched apart, and he smacked his head on the rooftop. Arkin stood over him as he tried to get up, yelling at the top of his lungs. Mia wrapped her arms around her father’s leg as a wave of figures rushed toward the fray. Rowan tried to raise his head, and a moment later, he was out.

♦

A relentless pounding from Rowan’s temples highlighted a constant wave of pain. He knew he was lying down on his back, but he was not sure what had happened. His eyelids fluttered and then parted, and the darkness remained. He tried to move his hands and found he could not. Reality slowly filtered in, and the pounding in his head grew worse. His throat was dry, and he was not sure he could speak if he wanted to. He took one long breath and then tried to sit up. He regretted it immediately. Two things became apparent: he was pretty sure his head would split open, and he was chained to the floor by his wrist.

Rowan’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and he focused on a small slit in the covering on the far side of the dwelling. The pale light told him it was after dark, and the bindings told him his fate was yet to be decided. He knew Arkin never wanted him as a husband for his daughter, and he had often guessed that Darian would be chosen for Mia. Mia’s devotion to the lesser cousin was the only thing that kept her father at bay.

Arkin’s resentment for the boy began as an act of heroism. The attack that ultimately took the lives of Rowan’s parents also set his future in stone. Arkin decided to save Rowan on that fateful night, and it cost him his wife. That choice created a deep-rooted animosity that revealed itself every time he looked at Rowan.

The sound of distant conversation pierced the hide covering. Rowan tried to make out the words, but he could not. He could guess what the council was debating, but he was too frightened to consider it. His thoughts drifted to Darian, and a sudden wave of emotion rushed over him.

The agony of his situation engulfed him, and it was all he could do to keep from howling at the top of his lungs. His heart opened up as the memories of his cousin swept through his mind. He wept like never before, aching with each passing moment. He lay in painful silence as he tried to regain control of himself. The sound of someone else’s hushed words pulled his attention away from his thoughts.

Who’s there?

There was a deep breath followed by a series of movements somewhere behind the dwelling. Rowan studied the stretched hide that covered the top of the structure until a small slit produced a familiar face. Mia’s eyes were burning red, and the darkness could not hide her pain. She took a hesitant glance at something out in front of the dwelling before pulling the cover back far enough to slide in and drop down.

Your father’s going to kill you, Rowan whispered.

You should talk.

She grabbed him and pulled him close. The two kissed more passionately than either of their years could account for. She finally let him go, and Rowan sat back, out of breath.

I was worried about you, Mia admitted.

I need to get you worried more often.

That’s not funny, she said. The entire council is discussing what to do with you.

The chains kind of gave that away, Rowan said, pulling on his bindings. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Mia’s eyes went to the floor. She could not bear to look up at him as she spoke. What happened to Darian?

Rowan’s throat dried up all at once. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. His heart thumped in his chest. A vision of Darian pulled into the abandoned building’s doorway flashed through his mind.

We went to the edge of the outlands, he continued before she could tell him how foolish they were, there were so many of them. He struggled with the words. It was like an army of the infected moving toward the city. He pressed his hand against her chin and raised her head. We got trapped.

A single tear streamed down her cheek when