THEM (Season 1): Episode 4 (4 page)

It took us no more than an hour to jog to from the Facility to the compound. I had to admit, the increased endurance I’d developed was a welcome benefit. I stopped Bobby and Gabby about a half-mile from the compound. “Wait here, I’ll be back within the hour.” They nodded, and I slinked off into the darkness, my night vision accommodating to the lack of moonlight. I was still conflicted about the long-term effects that these treatments might have on the gene pool of the remaining human race, but what was done was done. And while I might eventually decide that it was too much risk to bring anyone else on board, so far I couldn’t help but to think that my fears were unfounded.

I took off at a sprint for the pit where they’d left me to die, arriving beside the ramp within minutes, barely winded at all. I climbed the wall and peered over it, careful not to let the deaders down there notice me. All I needed was one. I waited until a loner separated itself from the rest. It was a long-haired woman of indeterminate age, perfect for what I had in mind. I secured the rope I’d brought to the top of the wall and used a dulfersitz rappel to quickly get down the wall, landing within a few feet of my target.

Strangely, when I arrived at the bottom of the pit she turned at the movement, sniffed, then ignored me completely. I was baffled at this and noticed that the other deaders were likewise ignoring my presence.
Curiouser and curiouser
, I thought. I stayed up against the pool wall, close to the rope should I have the need to get out quickly, but the deadheads continued to completely ignore me.

I noticed how they tended to bump into and ignore one another as well.
Could it be the infection that causes them to mistake me for a deader?
I wondered. Deciding to put my hypothesis to the test, I moved with caution toward the female deader I’d targeted when I dropped in. As I closed the distance she continued to ignore my presence. I walked around her in circles, and while her eyes may have followed me once or twice, she made no attempt to attack.
Well, this could prove handy at some point
.

Fascinated but short on time, I decided to take care of business and do what I had come to do. I pulled out a burlap potato sack I’d found in the mess earlier and drew the kukri from the sheath at my belt. I’d spent a considerable amount of time cleaning and sharpening it while I was convalescing in the sick bay at the Facility, and it was sharp enough to shave hair. I separated the deader’s head from her shoulders with two clean swipes of the blade. I wiped the blade on her clothing, popping her head in the bag. With a quick look around, I began to climb back up the wall.

As I grabbed the rope, I heard the moaning increase behind me and turned to see that I’d finally drawn the attention of the remaining deaders in the pit. They looked around, increasingly agitated, and at least one of them had zeroed in on me. I saw that one break away and begin to shuffle in my direction.

Looking up the rope, I realized I’d never make it up in time. I dropped the burlap bag and drew the kukri in one hand and a Glock 19 in the other. As the deadhead closed in on me, I parried a lunging grab while V-stepping to my left, hacking at the hamstrings on the front of the thing’s near leg as I allowed it to lunge past me. Immediately I brought the blade back around and buried it in the deader’s spine at the base of the skull.

Kicking the creature’s back off my blade as it fell, I turned to see the remaining three deaders coming at me in a rush. I fired off two shots, hitting one of them in the forehead and the other just below the nose in the center of the face. Both shots stopped them, but the third deader was already on me by the time those two began to fall. I backed up at an angle, not wanting to trip on the corpse behind me, and brought the kukri around in a circular flourish that took off one of the deader’s hands in a single swipe. I checked that arm at the elbow with the pistol, keeping the deader from turning to face me fully, bringing the blade back around for an overhand cut. I sunk the blade into the thing’s temple a good six inches, and lost my grip as the creature dropped.

On instinct, I looked around for more threats, but I was now the only thing moving in the pool. I stepped back and leaned against the wall, then did a quick head to toe assessment for injuries.
Not a scratch.
I did a quick replay of the encounter I’d just had in my mind’s eye, knowing that knowledge gleaned from the previous events could be crucial to my survival in the future.

I could only surmise that the deaders could somehow sense that I was carrying Z venom in my veins, and while that made me less of a target to them, it didn’t make me completely “invisible,” if that were the right word. For the most part, they’d been happy to ignore me until I started attacking them. This pointed to at least a rudimentary reasoning ability on the part of the deaders, as they modified their attitude toward me based on my aggression toward them. Getting ignored by deaders could come in handy, but I’d have to be careful not to rouse them from a holding pattern, especially in large groups.

Another thing I realized in breaking down the fight was that everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Rather, I had been picking up on movement faster, staying two and three steps ahead of the deaders during the whole fight. I’d never experienced anything like it. Typically you get tunnel vision immediately following an adrenaline dump, but instead my senses had opened up to take in everything around me.

That being said, I knew that I wasn’t physically faster than I was before the treatments. I just reacted faster, and the only thing I could come up with was that my perception speed had increased. These were all things I could discuss with the Doc when we got back to the Facility. But for now, I had a mission to accomplish and I was wasting time thinking about insignificant details when I should have been heading back to the wonder twins. Those two knuckleheads were sure to get into trouble without me, so I picked up the burlap sack and sprinted back to where I’d left them.

About halfway there, I ran into them both running almost full-tilt in my direction. I whistled a bird call and caught their attention. They pulled up short as I jogged over to them.

Bobby was the first one to speak, gesticulating excitedly with his surfer boy mannerisms. “What happened? We heard gunshots and came running.”

“How loud were they? Do you think they heard the shots back at the camp?”

Gabby shook her head. “We could hear it, but it sounded like it was further off in the distance. I doubt that the guards at the compound would’ve thought much of it.”

I nodded. “Alright then, the party’s still on. You know what to do.”

Since there were always three wall sentries and a gate guard on night watch, there would be one too many of them for us to take out in a coordinated attack. So I decided that a little stealth and deception were in order.

As we approached the compound, Gabby hid in the treeline about 50 feet from Bobby and I, and we waited on her to initiate the action. Her job was simply to distract the guard so we could sneak up behind him. She did an admirable job by imitating the sounds of a coyote taking a baby cottontail in its nest, making some rustling noises in the brush and then letting out a few distress calls that would’ve been sufficient to call in a live coyote. It was more than enough to distract the guard for the few moments we needed. Bobby closed the distance and mounted the wall quickly and silently, choking the guard out like I had shown him earlier and dropping the body off the wall. I moved to gag and tie up the unconscious guard with nylon cuffs after removing his jacket and cap. I threw these up to Bobby, and he quickly put them on and continued walking the wall as if nothing was out of place.

Based on the guards’ movements that I recalled from my time in the compound, I knew the other guards would expect Bobby to check in with them shortly. Knowing that the clock was ticking, I vaulted the wall and ducked under a CHU just in time to avoid the interior patrol guards who walked the compound at night.

One benefit to having better hearing, eyesight, and smell was that it was easy to sense when something was coming my way. Several times during the run over I’d noted animal life in the brush and trees around us that would have easily escaped my attention just a few short days ago. It was a little unnerving, but it sure made it a hell of a lot easier to evade the guards inside the compound as I closed in on the Colonel’s quarters.

My mocs made moving silently a breeze, and I snuck into the quarters without anyone raising an alarm. I drew my kukri and stalked over to his bunk, placing my hand over his mouth and nose and sticking the point of the kukri under his left eye.

He came to in a confused, panicked state. I whispered a warning. “Don’t make a single sound, or I’ll take the top of your head off before anyone can hear you scream. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and a tear fell from the corner of his eye. Whether from fear or his old injury, I couldn’t be certain, but I smelled piss on him as I pulled my hand away from his mouth.

“Let me see your hands.” He complied, so I zip-tied his hands together and then to the metal bunk frame. I duct taped his mouth shut, and tied his feet up with paracord, securing them to the bunk as well. Finally I pulled the female deader’s head from the burlap sack, and left it in the bed next to him.

“Something to keep you company, Colonel, at least until your men find you in the morning.” He visibly cringed away from the severed head, obviously fearful of being infected. I doubted that he’d ever had to kill a deader up close. Shocker.

I crouched down next to his bunk, and he turned his head to look at me in the dark. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I could clearly see the fear in his eyes and could smell it seeping from his pores. “Now, Leakey, I don’t think I need to tell you that you have some good men and women under your command. I’d hate to have to kill any of them just because of your stupid half-cocked mission to blow up the Corridor. And I think you know now that I can get to you, anytime I want.

“My strong suggestion to you is to deliver command over to someone who has an IQ over seventy and let them figure out how this unit can do some good in the post-War world. That’s option one. I’d prefer for you to take that option, but I know what a stupid and arrogant piece of shit you are, and I personally doubt that you have the moral aptitude to redeem yourself with such an act.

“Now, option two is for you to recognize that everything north of State Highway 90 on the west side of San Antonio and Interstate 10 on the east side is mine. I want you to move out of here ASAFP, head south, and don’t let me see your sad sorry face north of that line again. If I do, I’ll kill you and that shitbag Marsh on sight. Am I clear?”

The Colonel nodded his head with a defeated look in his eye. I drew my sidearm and tapped him between the eyes with the barrel as I stood up, eliciting a noticeable wince. “Then don’t forget it. Because I certainly won’t.”

I turned and grabbed my battlehawk from his desk, and rustled around the room until I located my Glocks and my Bowie knife from his footlocker. I’d figured he’d kept my sidearms for personal use and my tomahawk as a trophy. Even so, I’d chalked up my rifle as a loss, knowing that it probably went straight into the armory as soon as they had dumped me into the pit. Despite the loss of the rifle, finding the Bowie was a nice unexpected surprise.

I attached all the gear to my MOLLE harness and ensured that it wouldn’t make any noise during my escape. I left the Colonel in a puddle of his own piss and sweat and headed out to fetch Bobby before someone figured out what had happened to the wall sentry.

On the way out, we tossed the trussed up wall sentry on top of the wall. Just in case a deader happened by, I didn’t want him to end up on the menu. Bobby discarded the BDU hat and jacket he’d borrowed as we entered the tree line, and after signaling Gabby to follow we headed back to the Facility, using blacktop roads so we wouldn’t leave a recognizable trail.

After we’d made it a safe distance from the militia compound, Gabby whispered to me. “I take it everything went okay in there?”

I nodded, and was about to reply when my arm spasmed in pain and my side cramped up as if I had a Charley horse from my wrist to my other shoulder. I immediately dropped to the ground, heaving short breaths since it was difficult to breathe properly. The sensation in my arm was similar to the experience I’d had when Bobby had first opened my wound and poured it full of his blood. It was like liquid fire was spreading through my veins, starting at the site of the bite and moving up my arm to my shoulder and chest.

Gabby gasped and pulled up short, dropping down to my side. “Scratch, are you okay?” She turned to Bobby with concern in her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

Bobby knelt on my other side and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He shook my shoulder, which just made the fire in my arm and side worse. “Scratch, buddy, are you alright?”

I clenched my teeth and waited a few seconds, and soon the pain began to subside and breathing became easier. Seeing the change come over my face, they both relaxed a bit and gave me some room. I rolled over on my back and looked up at the stars, cradling my arm to my side.

Gabby took the hand that wasn’t still clenched in a fist in hers. “Can you walk?” I nodded, and she pulled me up as Bobby assisted from the side. I waved them off after standing up, feeling my strength coming back as the pain subsided.

“I’ll be fine. Must be some residual effects from that deader bite.”

Gabby cocked an eye at me. “‘Ya think? This ain’t cool, Scratch. We need to get you back to
La Araña
and have her look you over.”

I simply nodded and started walking back to the Facility. I noticed Bobby and Gabby exchanging a concerned look, but I ignored it and focused on getting back to safety before the others discovered the Colonel and sent patrols looking for us.

The Doc looked up from the chart and tapped her pen on her upper lip. “Based on the tests I ran while you were gone, your body has accepted the treatment. However, right now your enhanced immune functions are deadlocked with the Z venom in a battle for your systems and tissues.” She flipped through a few pages of her handwritten notes and looked up at me. “What sort of changes have you noticed so far in your physical abilities? Any new developments?”

“You mean besides the fact that I’m pretty much invisible to deaders?” The Doc cocked an eyebrow at that, but I barreled on. “And when the deaders finally did attack me, it was like I was a step ahead of them the whole time.”

“Improved reflexes?”

I shook my head. “No, more like improved perception speed. I was recognizing threats almost as they were happening.”

She frowned slightly and tapped the pen on her chin. “Well, that is interesting. But, let’s back up somewhat. You said the deaders didn’t attack you at first?”

I shook my head. “Not until I attacked one of them. Then they came at me in force.”

She made some notes on a clipboard and squinted. “Well, that could be due to the latent Z venom, or it could be caused by other factors. It’s not something that I’ve seen before, but then again the test pool of subjects I’ve had to work with has been quite limited.”

That last bit made me curious, and got me asking questions I should have been asking a week ago. “Doc, just how many people have you successfully treated with this stuff?”

“Including you and Gabby? Two. But there were several—failed—attempts prior to the War. I might add that the data from those test subjects was crucial to perfecting the process in the years after.”

“Well, that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So from what you’re telling me, these symptoms I’m having could just be a side effect of the treatments.”

She wobbled her hand back and forth. “
Claro
, of course. But I doubt that’s the case. I’m strongly of the opinion that the treatment is currently the only thing that’s keeping you from becoming a walker.”

About that, I wasn’t convinced. “I seemed to be doing fine with Bobby’s ’thrope blood running through me.”

The Doc shook her head no. “Perhaps, but we don’t know for certain.” She set her clipboard down and clasped her hands in her lap. “The bottom line is that you need to rest so your new enhanced immune system can overcome any remaining Z venom that’s left in your system and flush it from your body completely. Upgrades or no, right now your body’s immune functions are taxed to the limit just in preventing the spread of the infection. If you don’t take it easy and recuperate, you could end up a deader just the same.”

That was simply not an option; I had to get to Kara and the other settlers as soon as possible. We had no idea what the Corridor Pack was doing with them, but it couldn’t be good. And I had a strong feeling that once the settlers had outlived their usefulness to the ’thropes, they’d all be good as dead.

I looked her in the eye and shrugged. “That’s not going to happen, Doc. I have ’thropes to kill and people to save.”

Captain Perez actually managed to look sympathetic for once. “Look, I know you think that time is of the essence, and maybe it is; but you’re not going to do anyone any good if you start craving brains.”

I grabbed my gear and hopped off the exam table. “I’ll take that under advisement, Doc.”

The look on her face told me that she knew I had no such intentions. As she shook her head in silence and returned to her charts, I headed to the armory to clean my weapons one last time before heading out.

That night I took Gabby to what served as the physical training area for the Facility, a multi-purpose room roughly half the size of a basketball court. The place came complete with a painted concrete floor, a few mats that looked as though they’d been salvaged from the trash, some free weights, an old leather punching bag, and a few treadmills and some exercise bikes. It would do. I felt it was time to inventory Gabby’s skills and training, to see if there were any areas where I could help her improve upon what her uncle had taught her.

Bobby watched us from the other side of the room where he was lounging on one of the old mats, munching on a slab of raw deer meat. I glanced over at him, and he waved with the bloody chunk of venison, looking both eager and fascinated to see what I had planned for Gabby. I turned back to the girl and tilted my head toward Bobby.

“Try to pretend that he isn’t in the room.”

She smirked. “I’ll try, but it’s hard when he starts acting up.”

I sighed and smiled. “Well, at least give it your best shot. Now, give me a quick rundown of the hand-to-hand combat training your uncle taught you.”

She twisted her mouth and looked up at the ceiling above my head, tapping an index finger on her jaw. “Well, he taught me how to shoot, mostly with pistols, and he taught me how to use this.” She pulled her Kabar from its sheath and dropped into something like a boxer’s stance, slashing and hacking with the knife as if fending off an imaginary opponent. Her moves were fast and precise, reminiscent of a fencer—one with street smarts.

I gave an appreciative nod at her demonstration. “Okay, I think we can both agree that you’re very familiar with fighting with a short blade. However, I think you need to start training with something that has a bit more reach.” I reached into my ruck and pulled out the kukri. Earlier I’d spent some time in the armory replacing the scales and making sure that the grip and handle were sound. It’d served me well on my second trip to the pit, and I thought it’d make the perfect companion to Gabby’s Kabar and pistols.

“Now, the kukri is mainly a slashing and hacking weapon. A lot of the skills you already have will apply, but you need to remember that in battle you’ll want to think more along the lines of dismemberment than stabbing.” She cocked an eye at me, cueing me to elaborate. “Dismemberment means cutting off arms and legs.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “So it’s good for deaders. Got it.”

“Exactly. Now, I took the liberty of making us some practice weapons—”

“What for?” She looked at the wooden weapons I’d pulled out, hand-carved trainers that were identical to the kukri. The derision on her face was evident.

“Well, so you don’t get cut.”

She snickered. “Then how am I going to respect the weapon? My
tío
taught me that real steel is the best teacher.”

I nodded once at that; she was right, but I’d seen some pretty nasty accidents happen with live blade training and didn’t want to be responsible for someone’s hand getting cut off. I pointed a thumb at my chest. “Okay, let’s just say it’s so
I
don’t get cut. I need you to practice attacking me as if I were a deadhead coming at you. And since I’m your training dummy, I want to finish our training session with all my limbs attached.”

Gabby rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Alright, whatever.” She grabbed a practice kukri, swung it around a few times, and motioned for me to attack her.

I decided to indulge her and lunged toward her at about the speed that a deader would attack. She stepped straight in and slashed at my arms and torso in a flurry of movement that would have left me in shreds, finishing by slashing the blade across my neck. I heard Bobby applauding from across the room.

I backed away, nodding. “That was excellent. However, I want you getting off the line earlier. Since your uncle had to leave you alone a lot, I’m assuming that he mostly taught you to defend yourself against humans, correct?”

She nodded. “He always told me to keep moving in and cutting ’til they back off or fall down.”

I nodded my head in deference to her uncle’s advice. “Forward aggression is an excellent tactic when you’re fighting humans who feel pain and fear death. But when fighting deaders you need to end the threat while moving off the line of attack, because there’s almost always more than one. You can’t risk getting tangled up fighting with one deader; if you do, his buddies will be on your flanks before you can say ‘dinner time.’ Make sense?”

She nodded again, but with less enthusiasm. Time for a demo. “Bobby, let me borrow you for a moment.” Bobby glanced up from licking deer blood from his fingers, looking around the room and behind him. I shook my head. “No, I meant the other ’thrope named Bobby.” I pointed at him emphatically. “Yes, you, ya meathead. I need you to pretend you’re a deader. Shouldn’t be much of a stretch for you.”

Bobby hopped up and zombie walked over, arms extended in front of him, his eyes rolled back in his head. “Braaaaains. BRAAAAINS!!!” he cried out as he shuffled toward us.

Gabby furrowed her brow at him, and whispered to me behind her hand. “What’s wrong with him?”

I laughed. “He thinks he’s being funny—it’s an old zombie joke from before the War.”

“Yeah, but zombies eat meat, Scratch. Not brains.”

I looked over at Bobby. “Sorry, buddy, but your joke fell flat. Gabby here hasn’t seen any Romero films.”

He looked crestfallen, then perked up. “Hey, let’s hit some stores and get some more DVDs when we head to Austin!” He looked over at Gabby. “You’d love this movie called
Blade
, the hero has the best one-liners. Like this.” He deepened his voice and started talking like Christian Bale’s
Batman
. “Some mother-truckers are always trying to ice skate uphill.”

I rolled my eyes; as much as I enjoyed the
Blade
trilogy, I couldn’t help but to think that Wesley Snipes would shit his pants if he ever met a real life nos’. “Let’s just stay on task here. Bobby, you pretend you’re a deader and attack me from the front. Gabby, you come up on my flank; it doesn’t matter from which direction.” I stepped back a few feet. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bobby, smartass that he was, lunged at me full speed, which for a ’thrope was somewhere between Usain Bolt and Bruce Lee on meth. Without thinking about it, I stepped off the “x” with a forward V-step, and slashed with the wooden weapon in a
crossada
motion, “severing” his arm at the inside of the wrist and behind the elbow as I reversed it. Continuing the combination, I slashed his quadriceps and hamstrings as I passed him by, using his momentum to get behind him. Finally I turned and struck the side of his neck and kicked out his knee simultaneously, just as Gabby was trying to move around him to attack me from my blind side.

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.