Free The Decaying World Saga (Book 1): Tribes of Decay by Michael W. Garza

belonged to the old world,” he said.
    The explanation was enough for the moment.
    “But we heard someone talking over it.”
    Jacob snickered. “Sure you did.”
    Mia cut in.
    “You need to eat something,” she said, focusing on more pressing matters. “You need your strength.”
    She pulled something off one of the stones around the fire and tore it into smaller pieces. Rowan tried to process everything as she fed him.
    “How long have we been down here?”
    “Five days,” she said.
    “Five days?”
    Mia pressed down on his chest as he tried to rise up. She forced another bite in his mouth and whispered.
    “He was going to kill you.” Rowan stopped mid-chew, his eyes sliding toward the old man with a renewed distrust. “He told me you would turn into one of them.”
    Jacob broke into a coughing fit and the sudden eruption caused both Mia and Rowan to flinch. He continued until he managed to get something up in his mouth that he spit out in a dirty cloth he kept in his pocket. The scarlet blots matched the smear left across his lips. It took several deep breaths before he was able to get his breathing under control.
    “Are you all right?” Mia asked.
    Jacob brushed her off with a wave of his hand.
    “I’ll live,” he said and then laughed to himself, “a little while longer anyway.” He moved closer to the fire, still laughing.
    His skin was the color of burnt copper, something akin to old leather pulled tight over the bones in his face. His pure white hair hung down over his shoulders, some of the stands braided all the way up to the sides of his head. Bushy, unkempt eyebrows hung low, nearly blocking his baby blue eyes from the piece of wood he was focusing his attention on. His odd patchwork of clothing appeared as bizarre and out of place as the old man was in the city.
    Jacob remained fixated on his task. He sharpened both ends of the stick and then laid it down, picking up another one from a pile by his side. Mia and Rowan kept quiet, neither sure if the old man would help them. There was a silent question lingering between the two of them as to whether or not they knew what kind of help they needed. Rowan was more interested on where he could find a safe place away from the tribes, but he knew Mia’s heart belonged to the Cheyenne people and more important her brother.
    “Where did you used to go?” There was an uncomfortable silence as Jacob continued his work, ignoring Mia’s question. She coughed in her hand and repeated it. “Where did you used to go?”
    The old man looked up, lowering his knife and stick to his lap.
    “All over,” he said. “I reckon I’ve walked damn near across the country.” He thought about it. “It used to be a country, a collection of states.” He frowned at the lack of recognition from his audience. “Doesn’t matter.” He started back whittling on his stick. “I started in California.”
    Both Rowan and Mia’s ears perked up. Mia’s eyes opened wide with excitement. Her love of history was written on her face.
    “We’ve heard of the California Tribe,” she said. “In the old world, it was called the great west.”
    Jacob stopped, surprised by her response.
    “Yes, along the coast.” He sat up and made eye contact. “That was a long time ago, right after the infection spread.”
    “Are you part of the California Tribe?” Rowan asked.
    “Well no, not really,” Jacob said and then thought about it. “That’s where we ended up when everything went to hell. There’s a small island off the coast, called Catalina. That’s where we—”
    “We?”
    Mia’s interruption froze him midsentence. His mouth hung open as his mind processed what she’d said.
    “My sister.”
    He said it and turned his eyes toward the fire. The intense sadness made Mia lean into Rowan as if she knew she’d touched on a terrible thing.
    “The compound didn’t last,” he continued. “I was on my own after that.”
    “You’ve seen them gathering?” Rowan asked.