THEM (Season 1): Episode 3

by M. D. Massey

  I took them both in and smiled, trying to put a bright face on despite our current situation. “Alright, you both know we’re moving at night, and while I’d rather wait till morning I suspect most of the deaders around were attracted to the movements of the pack pulling through here and back after the raid. I’m counting on the fact that they’ll have pulled most of the deaders in the area slightly north of the route we took coming in. So, I intend to head back the way we came and hole up at the winery safe house Gabby and I were at just a few days ago. From there we can rest and regroup a few hours, then head due south straight to the Facility to meet up with Captain Perez. Any questions?”

  Bobby raised a hand. “For future reference? If you make any more jerky, can you leave the pepper out? Gives me gas, and let me tell you, you do not want to walk behind me for the next few hours.” He waved a hand in front of his nose and gave Gabby a conspiratorial wink. She giggled, and I knew all would be well with these two, in spite of everything they’d been through recently; folks in this world were nothing if not resilient.

  - - -

  We reached the winery about an hour before first light, and other than a few close calls with wandering deaders we’d arrived relatively unharmed. As I suspected, for the first twenty miles or so most of the Z herds were clear of our route, presumably following the pack and their prisoners. If I was right in my assumptions, the ’thropes would be making a forced march back to Austin, following Highway 290 the entire way. I kept telling myself that I was making the right call, heading to the Facility in order to get the edge I’d so desperately need to free Kara, but there were multiple times during the night when I had to talk myself out of turning north to intercept the pack.

  We entered the grounds without incident and secured ourselves in the bunker to catch some sleep before we headed out to the Facility. From what Gabby told us, it was fairly close to the northern edge of the old military preservation. Prior to the War, the Army had used Camp Bullis for field training exercises and to train 18 Deltas, Special Forces medics... and apparently also for some other freaky shit as well. There were vast expanses of densely wooded areas on Camp Bullis, and I was sure it wouldn’t be too terribly difficult to hide a secret underground installment there. Why they hadn’t located it at Camp Stanley was beyond me, but perhaps even the Spooks didn’t know about the Army’s little foray into supernatural DNA splicing. And, who knew what the hell the CIA had left down there.

  I sacked out and was awakened a few hours later by Gabby’s voice, whispering in my ear in frantic tones. “Scratch, we got Zs outside the door!” I was up in an instant and grabbing for my gear in the dim light of an oil lamp.

  “What’s the situation?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I got geared up and decided to listen by the door—I figured that way we could leave just as soon as you guys woke up. About twenty minutes ago I started hearing moaning outside, and it sounds like there’re a ton of deaders walking around on top of us. I think I even heard one walking on top of the hatch!” Gabby looked a little freaked, and I could understand how she felt. A herd of zombies could just ramble around for a bit and move on, or they could decide to camp out for days; you just could never tell with the damned things. Moreover, if one of them found a way inside the barn, they’d likely get to the horses, which I was sure were already starting to get spooked. Once the Zs caught wind of them, they’d never leave.

  On the other hand, Bobby looked like he could care less about the zombies. Remembering how nonchalant he was back at the punter safe house, I decided to ask him something I’d been wondering about since I’d met him. “Bobby, just curious—are you immune to deadhead bites?”

  He scratched his head. “Well, I dunno—one of the pack got pulled down by a herd once, and he got really sick. Our alpha killed him right after, so I never really found out what would have happened if he hadn’t, you know? But I’ve never had to find out myself—they’re so slow I can pretty much run circles around them.”

  Well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about Bobby. “Alright, good to know. Look, we may have to fight our way out of here, if we can’t get the horses out of the barn on a safe escape route that’s free from Zs. If so, Bobby will create a distraction and pull as many deaders off as possible, while Gabby and I take the horses and head in the opposite direction.” I glanced at Bobby, who wasn’t looking too keen on the plan. “Once you lose them, meet us here at this airstrip on the north side of the military preserve.” I pointed to an area on my map, and Bobby nodded with reluctance in his eyes.

  I moved the shelving along the back wall so I could open the escape hatch, and then pointed into the tunnel. “Alright, we’re heading out the back way—Gabby, climb through there and tell me if the horses seem riled up.”

  She headed into the short tunnel, and then whispered back, “All clear.”

  “Then let’s head out and hope that Bobby’s as fast as he says.”

  Bobby looked over at me with indignation on his face, and I could hear him mumbling under his breath as he exited into the escape tunnel. “Oh, I’m fast alright. Doesn’t mean I appreciate being treated like a redshirt. But hey, let the werewolf take the heat, sure, that’s a great plan...”

  - - -

  [3]

  CORPSES

  The barn was all clear, so we saddled the animals as quietly as possible, keeping them stabled while I did some recon on our possible escape routes. It was dark and overcast outside, and I hoped we’d get some rain to cover the sounds of our escape. I also saw that there were Zs everywhere, at least a few dozen around the area. I ducked back down before one spotted me, and crept back over to Bobby and Gabby to hash out our escape plan.

  “Bobby, there are more Zs on the north side of the building—”

  He cut me off in mid sentence. “So, I’ll head out the south exit—right.” He then nodded to me in a self-satisfied fashion.

  “—as I was saying, Bobby will head out the north exit, and make a crap load of noise to draw off as many deaders as possible.”

  Bobby did a double take and his eyes swiveled back around to gape at me. “What the hell, man? Why do I get the suicide mission?”

  “Well, since the horses are carrying the munitions we’re going to need to blow the Corridor pack sky-high, I need to get them and my mule safely away from here. This is critical—without the gear I have packed on those animals, we’re toast.”

  Gabby chimed in, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Gabby, when I give the word you’re going to haul ass on your horse, leading Donkey and heading in a general southwesterly direction. I’ll take the other horses and run interference so you get away safely, then catch up with you a few miles down the road.” She nodded and her cheeks flushed, whether with excitement or fear, it was hard to say.

  I walked Bobby over to the north exit door. “Bobby, no unnecessary risks, alright?”

  He gave me a look that named me Captain Obvious without saying a word. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Then he opened the door and bolted. As the door slammed shut, I could hear him yell, “And if I come back as a were-zombie, the first thing I’m going to do is eat your mule!” Then all I heard was a lot of nonsensical hooting that I assumed was his attempt at zombie calling.

  I could hear Gabby stifling a laugh as I went to help get her ready to bolt. She slapped me on the shoulder from up in the saddle. “C’mon, you have to admit he’s pretty funny. Besides, laughing makes me less nervous.”

  I glanced at her and nodded. I didn’t have much to say to that, and had no idea how to comfort a scared kid besides acting like I knew what I was doing. As I checked her saddle and harness, I gave her my final instructions. “Remember, haul ass that way”—I pointed southeast of us—“and we’ll meet up three miles down the road. And if I don’t show within twenty minutes, head to the airstrip, hide out, and wait for Bobby. Got it?”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, Dad.”

  I cleared my throat in uncomfortable c
onfusion. “Well—alright then.” She grinned a maniacal little smile at me. “Okay, here we go, kid.” I threw open the barn door and slapped her horse on the hindquarters, following it up with a light pat on Donkey’s rear to get her going. She knew what to do, and it took little prodding to get her moving when the undead were around. I shut the door nearly closed, and watched out of the barely cracked door as Gabby made it to the road with only a few stragglers halfheartedly on her tail.

  After I was sure Gabby made a clean getaway, I left the door unlatched and turned back to retrieve the two other horses. As I was about to saddle up, I heard the door squeak behind me and turned around to see what had entered the barn with me; what I saw was heartbreaking.

  Standing there in the doorway, in her little home-sewn dress and scuffed patent-leather shoes was the little girl from the settlement—the one I’d rescued along with her mom just a few days prior. She was missing a hunk of flesh from her right cheek, and there was dried blood caked to her face on that side. In addition to the wound, she had blood and gore painted around her mouth, and all down the front of her dress.

  Her hands were curled like little claws, and when she spotted me she snarled like a rabid dog, bounding toward me on her hands and feet in similar fashion. The horses panicked and I lost the reins, only to see them dance nervously back, further into the barn, as far away from the little terror in front of me as possible.

  I froze.

  Whether it was physical fatigue from the last few days on the run, or emotional fatigue from losing Kara and then seeing this poor precious child turned into a hellish predator, I have no idea... but for the first time since I was fresh off the plane back in the ’Stan, I brain farted and froze.

  Within half a heartbeat, she hit me full force in the chest and the shock drove me into action. I pushed her back with one hand at her throat, preventing those teeth from reaching me. Simultaneously, I reared back and hit her square in the chest with a gyaku-tsuki that hit so hard I heard her little ribs crack as my knuckles sunk into her chest. I followed it up with a front thrust kick that sent her flying across the barn. My old Shotokan karate instructor would’ve been proud, but I was anything but as I drew my battle hawk from my waist and waded across the room after her.

  She recovered immediately, and then hit all fours like a cat. As I approached cautiously she skittered across the floor, and then she leapt backwards in a reverse somersault, landing with her feet hooked in the rafters above us. Like a gymnast, she flipped back and up, catching a beam and retreating into the dark corners of the loft.

  I knew she’d be back momentarily, and was torn about finishing her before I took off after Gabby. A clap of thunder decided it for me, and I turned to grab the horses so I could take advantage of the coming storm to cover the sounds of my retreat. In three steps I was halfway across the barn, cooing to the horses to calm them down. Then, I noticed the Appaloosa’s eye go wide, and heard a scrape above me.

  I spun and swung, catching the rev with a vicious forehand stroke and cleaving her head almost in two in midair. I retracted the axe as she fell, and it made a sick sucking noise as I pulled it free. She landed on her side, brain matter and blood leaking from the large hole I’d just made in her cranium, still twitching and letting out a low moan that I knew would bring more of the undead with it. I took a step forward and swung the hatchet high overhead, landing the blade squarely on her neck. One more swing, and then another; I barely registered the butcher-shop noises as her head rolled a few feet away to land by the wall.

  Suppressing any emotions I may have been feeling, I compartmentalized and wiped my axe on her dress before sheathing it, and then I grabbed the Appaloosa’s reins and mounted up. The horses were still skittish, forcing me to spur it hard to make it leap past the headless corpse on our way out. By this time it was pouring rain outside; I headed to the road at a gallop, taking little regard for what undead might still remain outside.

  Just before I hit the road, I noticed the outline of a large form crouched on the hood of an old Toyota, about twenty-five feet to my right. I turned to look and saw it was Donnie Sims; I was sure of it. I pulled the horses up short and yelled into the storm.

  “Donnie! Donnie Sims.”

  No answer. I attempted to get the horses to move closer so I could see more clearly, but they seemed intent on staying as far away as possible. The rain was obscuring my line of sight, and I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. His head hung low, and I could see his chubby jowls bulging out from beneath. Then, it spoke.

  “Scratch—they did something to me, Scratch. Something god-awful. I feel like I’m not all here, but like there’s something else inside with me.” He tilted his head up at me slightly, and his eyes told me that this wasn’t Donnie Sims, at least, not any longer. Despite the rain, his words seemed to echo across the gravel lot. “It’s like there’s less of me, but more. You gotta kill me, Scratch—please.”

  The horses became even more skittish at the sound of his voice. It was like two voices speaking from the same mouth, one Donnie’s normal, everyday voice, and another one, low and menacing overlaid on top of the first. That second voice reminded me of the roar of a kiln, insistent and manifold in tone and volume.

  “Donnie, I need to know what happened at the settlement. Is Kara okay?”

  He chuckled, or rather, two voices did. It was like an echo of Donnie’s voice hit a half second after his own voice, every syllable hitting in a double rhythm. “Kara? Kara’s fine. But look at me, Scratch. I’m dead, but I’m still alive. This thing they put inside me—it keeps telling me to do things. I don’t want to do those things, Scratch. I tried to put a bullet in my head, but it won’t let me end it. You gotta help me—please kill me, I’m begging you.”

  “Donnie, how many are left?”

  Donnie’s head rolled around bonelessly for a moment, and then it popped up a hair off center and went stock-still. I caught the barest glimpse of his eyes locked on mine through the pounding rain.

  Suddenly I heard a splash to my left, and swiveled my head around to see a zombie limping up on my flank. But before it could reach me, out of the corner of my eye I saw Donnie’s mouth open up, so wide—wider than a snake eating a rat, wider than the gates of hell. And he screamed, screeching like nothing I’ve ever heard before or since. At that, the zombie cringed, literally cringed away, crawling off as if it were a dog that had been badly scolded by its master.

  I turned back to Donnie, drew my pistol, and fired. He tilted his head, almost too fast for the eye to see, and a red crease opened up across his temple. “Ah, ah, ah.” Donnie’s fat finger wagged at me, and now it was just the second voice taunting me, alone and separate from Donnie’s own. At once, Donnie’s body rolled off the hood of the vehicle, vanishing from sight.

  I waited for him to reappear from behind the car, but could see little in the driving rain. I waited a minute maybe, and finally heard that second voice off in the distance. “No damaging the merchandise, Sullivan. I was provided this wretched man’s body in payment for a task not yet done, and I’ll not give it up so soon.” It cackled then, a sick, high carrion call of a laugh that sent a chill down my back. A moment later, I heard the voice one last time fading off into the rain. “One last word of advice, Scratch—don’t forget to look up!”

  After that strange bit of advice, nothing remained but the sound of pouring rain and thunder in the distance. I took one last look around the place, then spurred the horse and headed after Gabby.

  - - -

  I followed the road to where I’d told Gabby to wait for me, but she was nowhere to be found. The rain had obscured any chance of spotting her trail, so I decided to head for the rendezvous point at the airstrip, trusting to chance and the kid’s plucky attitude that she’d make it okay. Well, that and a few million dollars’ worth of government research. I wondered if the she’d even needed me to rescue her from that trailer roof, or if in fact it was the other way around. That was something I’d need to talk with her a
bout, once we had time to sit and chat.

  I kept to the road until it intersected with another road that ran east-west, just north of the old military base’s boundaries. Then, I headed east for another four miles until I was certain I was parallel to the airstrip, and turned south through what had once been an upper-middle-class neighborhood of sprawling country estates. As I rode down the cracked and pitted blacktop, I spotted a few abandoned Beemers and Benzes, along with the odd swimming pool or two. Houses like this out in the middle of nowhere were usually a scavenging goldmine, and I made a mental note to return after reaching the Facility to look for supplies, especially for clean water and ammo.

  Of course, I had no idea what Captain Perez had stockpiled at this mysterious facility of hers. Heck, I didn’t even know if her story was real or not, but it was all I had to go on, and all the hope I could muster for saving Kara depended on it being true. Firepower or no, I had little chance of surviving up against that pack as a stock human. I’d still try no matter what, but after seeing firsthand what sort of damage a ’thrope could take and still keep on swinging, I knew that I’d need every advantage I could get.

  But the doc’s whole plan about creating a team of super soldiers, well... that was almost more science fiction than I was willing to believe, even after seeing the world succumb to a zombie and monster apocalypse. Almost. Sure, everything that’d happened since the bombs dropped flew in the face of logic and scientific fact, and I’d only come to believe in zombies, vampires, and werewolves because I’d seen it with my own eyes. But all this mutant avenger shit—it was more than a little hard to swallow.

  Maybe it was because I didn’t want to get my hopes up, and maybe it was because I didn’t want it to be true. Maybe the alternative, a long, slow retreat into human extinction, was the more acceptable option. And maybe I just didn’t want to have anything to do with whatever crazy shit the military had cooked up at the expense of other, better men and women who’d likely gone before me. Maybe I didn’t want or need that on my conscience.