Bobby was moving so fast, he tripped and fell into Gabby, who I also noted was moving at normal, and not deader, speed. Trying to get one over on the old guy, eh? I thought to myself. Age and treachery, my young friends. The crazy thing was, I didn’t really think I’d moved that fast at all. Then it hit me. Timing. My timing is perfect. Interesting.
I suppressed a grin as Gabby and Bobby untangled themselves and stood up. Bobby was alternately rubbing his wrist and neck, while Gabby’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. She jumped up and down excitedly on her toes. “Show me how to do that! Show me-show me-show me!”
I laughed. Even when the subject matter was deadly serious, kids would always still be kids. “Alright, let’s go through it more slowly this time. Bobby, you attack again, but slow so Gabby can see what I’m doing.” I demonstrated the same motions, and then had Bobby attack Gabby so she could practice. Within half an hour she had the basic footwork and cutting patterns down and was wielding that kukri in a manner that’d make any gurkha proud.
After that, I spent the better part of two hours drilling Gabby on how to deal with multiple opponents of the undead variety. Bobby took some lumps until he settled down, but I didn’t feel at all bad for him, especially considering that the marks were already fading by the time we finished up. We all ate in the mess together and racked out early so we’d be fresh for the coming trip to the Corridor.
· · ·
The next day we packed up Donkey with our munitions and supplies and headed for Austin. Based on the route that Bobby and I had settled on the night before, I planned to swing by to check on Bernie and Margaret and then head north on the back roads so we could come at Austin from the west. No way was I traveling through downtown Austin, even though it was the shorter route. I figured it’d take us four days to get there, if things went smoothly.
We left early in the morning, but the Doc was nowhere in sight. I asked Gabby about it and she just shrugged. “Probably down in her lab. She’s never told me goodbye before. I think she’s superstitious about it or something. Anyway, she knows where we’re headed.” I nodded and finished cinching Donkey up, and we struck out, the whir of servos and clank of the diamond-plate steel doors closing and locking behind us.
I didn’t intend to stop at the Canyon Lake outpost any longer than necessary, but I’d found some ammo for Bernie’s rifle and wanted to drop it off to him along with some reloading gear. Besides, I’d taken a liking to the old man and wanted to make sure he was safe. I also wanted to try to talk him and his wife into coming back to the Facility with us on the way back. I couldn’t think of a more secure location where we could all start over and try to rebuild after the ’thrope attacks. Hopefully within a week that threat would be eliminated, and we could start focusing on getting back to normal. Well, as normal as we could be after a combination nuclear-and-monster apocalypse.
We reached the lake settlement before noon and found Bernie and Margaret safe and sound. Marge cooked for us and fed us well, and Bernie and I sat around sharing a bit of whiskey he’d stocked away for a special occasion. He thanked me for the ammo and reloading tools, but declined my offer of safe passage and a place to stay at the Facility.
The old man shook his head as I tried for what seemed like the hundredth time to convince him to come with us when we pulled back through. “Naw, Scratch, we’re doing fine where we are. Marge and I are still holding out hope that one of the kids will make it back to us, and I don’t think we could live with ourselves if we gave up on them.”
I simply nodded and shook his hand, and then gave Marge a hug. Gabby followed suit, while Bobby just stood off to the side looking uncomfortable. Marge walked over and pelted him with a hug just the same, and I could see a combination of happiness and regret cross his face as he awkwardly patted her shoulder in return. I wondered how many years it had been since he’d been hugged like that, and felt a little sad for him because of it.
I turned back to Bernie and shook his hand once more. “Well, the offer still stands if you decide to change your mind. We could always use a good Marine to help us rebuild.”
“I appreciate it, Scratch. Now, you make sure to look after yourselves. I don’t have to tell you that you’re walking into the devil’s backyard by heading into Austin. Not many people come back from making runs up that way. Watch your backs.”
Gabby squinted and nodded. “We will, Mr. Bernie, and I promise to look after him.” She punched me on the shoulder and walked off to untether Donkey. Bernie and I shared a look that said a lot about teens and hubris, but inside, I was proud of the kid. She’d fought to come with us, and in the end I knew if I’d left her she’d just follow along anyway. Short of locking her up back at the Facility, I had no choice but to bring her.
As we were leaving, Bobby got caught by Margaret and ended up with some dried fish jerky and a new jacket besides. “That t-shirt you’re wearing isn’t near enough to keep you warm at night,” she said, scolding and cajoling him into taking the gifts. He simply blushed and obliged her, obviously uncomfortable with being mothered. He said a quiet thank you and then scurried off to wait for us at the gate.
I turned and waved at them as we left the peninsula, and they waved back from atop the settlement wall. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last we saw of them, and said a silent prayer that they’d both be safe when I returned.
· · ·
6
RAVENS AND KITES
Bobby and Gabby took turns scouting ahead as we continued north along the back roads, but except for the odd deader we avoided trouble all day. That evening we spent an uneventful night in an old metal barn, locked safely away from whatever terrors and dangers lurked in the night. We holed up way back in the sticks southwest of the city, not far from where one of my favorite barbecue joints used to be back before the War. I regaled Gabby and Bobby with tales of huge slabs of brisket, BBQ ribs the size of stout tree limbs, and sausage links as long as your forearm as we shared a humble dinner of Margaret’s fish jerky and some dehydrated fruit I’d taken from the mess back at the Facility.
Bobby remembered what it was like back in the days of all-you-can-eat buffets and grocery stores that were restocked by just-in-time tractor trailer shipments every night, but Gabby was skeptical that there could be so much food all in one place. I promised her that when we got back we’d kill a wild pig and have a barbecue of our own to celebrate. She seemed to like that idea, but Bobby opined that ruining a perfectly good hog by cooking it over a fire was a waste of meat. Despite the circumstances, I slept well that night, dreams of brisket and ribs dancing through my head.
We woke up early, and once we got the all clear from Bobby that the area was free from deaders we headed out and made good time sticking to the back roads as planned. The kids took turns scouting ahead, making a sort of contest out of who could cover the most terrain and still make it back to report in every 30 minutes or so. They used the maps I’d procured from the Facility and some inner wolf odometer to gauge the extent of their ranging ahead. Bobby claimed he was winning by a hair, but to be honest I was pretty sure he was taking it easy on Gabby. Despite the advantages the treatments had provided her, she still wasn’t anywhere near being a match for a full werewolf, even a third-gen like Bobby. However, I speculated that she’d be quite the hellion once she grew into her own.
Around noon, I snapped out of my reverie when Gabby came running back through the trees, triple-time. She pulled to a stop in front of us, breathing hard with her hands on her knees, which indicated just how urgent the situation might be. I tilted my chin up in a questioning gesture, and she squinted up at me and gasped out a response. “Punters, about a dozen located a half-mile east-northeast, heading the same direction we are.”
“Can we avoid them?” I asked.
She nodded and replied with a look of disdain. “Yeah. The way they’re moving, a herd of deaders could run past them and they’d never notice.”
“So what’s the big deal?”
“W
ell, I didn’t think you’d want to pass on these guys.” She paused and stood up straight to take a drink of water, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Scratch, that punter with the funny hat is with them—the one who shot me on the boat.”
Pancho Vanilla, my old friend—also known as Jimmy the Punter. Time for some payback, I thought. I nodded once and handed her a canteen. “Well then, this is hardly an opportunity I’d want to pass up.” Gabby’s face hardened at that, and it gave me pause. I wondered at how different this kid’s life would’ve been if she’d grown up watching MTV and shopping at The Gap.
I gestured at Bobby. “I want you trailing them at a distance and checking in with us throughout the day to make sure we don’t accidentally let them spot us before nightfall. Don’t take any risks; just make sure you know their position when they stop to camp. Gabby and I will stay ahead of them and try to find a safe house close to where they stop so we can ambush them after dark.”
Bobby bowed with a flourish of his hand. “At your service, sire.” He winked and took off into the trees.
I turned back to Gabby. She wore a grim expression as she fingered the handle of her Kabar at her waist, and I thought about how I was responsible for more than my own well-being at this juncture. I’d never had to raise a kid before, but I’d spent plenty of time working with kids before the war. Big responsibility, that. At that moment I decided that I’d be damned if I was going to help turn an 11-year-old into a heartless killer.
I tapped her forearm to get her attention. “Gabby, I know you want some payback for getting shot, and I do too. But, we can’t just go killing everyone who crosses us.”
“Why not? My tío always told me it was the best way to make sure that bad people never crossed you twice.”
“That’s true, but there are other things we have to consider besides just our own welfare in this life. If we go around killing bad people just because they’re bad, we’re no better than they are in the end. Besides that, humans are in short supply these days. We need to focus on the real enemy. Them.”
She screwed her face up for a second and then looked up at me. “Is that why you let the Colonel live?”
“Yes, for that and other reasons, but that has a lot to do with it. Gabby, I’ll kill a deader, a rev, a nos’, or a ’thrope in a heartbeat, and I expect you to do the same. But when it comes to killing our own kind, we need to balance our will to survive with remembering what it means to be human.” I paused and considered my words. “It was wrong for me to try to take him out the first time. He was no direct threat to us, and I crossed the line. Not only that, but if I had killed him, chances are someone worse would’ve taken his place. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose.” She looked down at her feet and traced a line in the dirt with her toe. “But will you at least let me scare him a little bit? I’d like to see him piss his pants like the Colonel did the other night.”
I laughed. “How’d you know about that?”
“When you came back, the smell was all over you. Me and Bobby just put two and two together and figured you’d scared the piss out of him.”
I rocked back on my heels and gave the thought about two seconds. “Yeah, I have to say that this guy definitely deserves to have the piss scared out of him. You have my word.”
· · ·
That night, we waited until the punters set up camp in an old self-storage facility. The place was fenced in and the structures inside were sound, and frankly I wished that we could have been using it for our own safe house. Instead, we set up inside an old two-story Victorian just down the road. The neighborhood was on the outskirts of southwest Austin, and after dark it crawled with deaders. I had to force Gabby to sit tight while Bobby and I reconnoitered the place.
We jumped the fence at a spot that was well out of the way of the punters’ line of sight and climbed on top of the storage units to scope them out. True to form, the punters were drinking and carrying on, which was attracting quite a few deadheads to their fence line. As a drinking game, they took turns stabbing them through the wrought iron fence with a makeshift spear someone had fashioned from a mop handle and a steak knife. If one of the punters took out a deader with a single stab, the others had to slug back a shot of whatever rotgut they were drinking. It wasn’t long before they were all drunk and passed out inside the main office building where they’d taken shelter.
I whispered to Bobby, “I expect that Pancho’ll have to come outside eventually to relieve himself. We’ll wait until he does and snag him then.”
Bobby nodded and whispered back, “You’re the boss.”
“You keep calling me that. What’s the deal?”
“Boss, alpha, same thing. Wolves naturally follow the strongest leader they can, because that’s the one who is most likely to keep them alive. You may not be a ’thrope, but you got alpha written all over you. Thus, you’re the boss.”
I nodded. “Alright, good to know. Just don’t do that sniffing thing again though—it creeps me out.”
He smiled, and even with the partial cloud cover I could see his face almost perfectly in the dark. “You know, now that you have my wolf blood running in your veins you might start doing it too. Have you had the urge to pee on anything lately? To roll in roadkill? To lick your balls?”
I sighed. “Just shut up and keep an eye on the exits.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, try it and you might like it. Roadkill smell is a dead turn-on for most ’thrope females.”
“I’ll pass. Now. Watch. The. Door.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Once I got Bobby settled down and on task, it was about another 45 minutes to an hour before Pancho showed his ugly mug. I almost missed him, since he wasn’t wearing that stupid hat. My best guess was that he thought he looked like McMasters from Tombstone in it, but this guy was a far cry from a Michael Rooker character in any capacity. Despite my distaste for Pancho’s sartorial leanings, I made a mental note to look for a copy of Tombstone if given the opportunity. Gabby would probably love it.
Pancho looked about three sheets to the wind, but even so Bobby and I moved as stealthily as possible into position to snatch him. I hopped down the wall and snuck up behind him while Bobby waited above him on the building’s roof. Before Pancho knew what had hit him I’d choked him out and had him hogtied and gagged. Bobby jumped down, and we carried him off to the fence line with no one the wiser.
The real challenge at hand, though, was getting Pancho’s sorry ass back to our safe house without a train of deaders following us back. I motioned for Bobby to draw them off before they got wind of us, and he rolled his eyes and sulked off into the night. I heard a loud noise a few blocks over and assumed it was Bobby. After waiting until most of the deaders were moving off to investigate, I heaved Pancho over the fence and then followed him over. He’d hit the ground with a grunt and had begun to stir by the time I landed next to him, so I pulled out my Bowie and held it to his throat as I whispered in his ear.
“I know you can’t see me, but I assume you can feel my blade at your throat.” He blinked several times in the dark, and I could see that he was scared, but pissed as well. I could work with that. “Now, as soon as my partner gets back we’re going to take a short trip, and then we’re going to have a little discussion. Blink twice if I can trust you to cooperate.” He paused, looking more pissed by the second, then finally blinked twice. “Good. If you don’t struggle or try to escape, I’ll make sure my partner doesn’t eat you.”
About that time, Bobby came jogging back up. I motioned for him to grab Pancho by the arms, and he shrugged and just heaved him up and over his shoulder, reminding me of just how strong a full-blown ’thrope could be. He gestured as if to say, “after you,” so I decided I wouldn’t look a gift-wolf in the mouth and led the way back to our makeshift safe house. About halfway there Bobby paused and motioned me down, squatting behind an old dumpster without setting down his burden.
I could hear him sniffing the
air, although I didn’t notice anything out of place. He leaned over to me and whispered in my ear. “Nos’, and pretty close, too.”
Pancho must’ve heard, because he started struggling, knocking over some trash that had been stacked on top of the dumpster. I cracked him across the jaw, and he slumped back into stillness across Bobby’s back. Bobby grimaced and pointed to an adjacent roof. I could see a figure crawling our way, scuttling almost like a roach or a spider, belly down and slinking so silently that I almost couldn’t hear it even with my new upgrades.
Just then the wind shifted, and I caught the smell that had set Bobby’s radar on high alert a few moments before. It was the smell of old rot, dried blood, and death. I recognized it, because I’d smelled it many times previously on vamps I’d killed. Strangely though, I only remember smelling them after I’d killed them; I couldn’t recall a single time I picked up the scent of a nos’ before I’d dusted one. This could come in handy, I thought, loosening my battle ’hawk and drawing my Bowie from its sheath. Bobby cocked an eyebrow at me, and I motioned for him to head to the safe house with Pancho. He shook his head no, but I mouthed “I got this,” and shooed him off. He twisted his mouth in what looked to be indecision, then he padded off into the dark.
I looked up again, only to see that our friend was nowhere to be seen. That had me nervous. I couldn’t use any firepower to take this thing out, or else the punters would be all over us, not to mention every deader within two miles. Fact was, I wasn’t too sure about my ability to take it out with just my tomahawk and my Bowie. On the other hand, there was this part of me deep down inside that was telling me this thing was invading on my territory. It was like this inner voice telling me I had to take it down, because its very presence was an affront to my existence.
THEM (Season 1): Episode 4 Page 5