THEM (Season 1): Episode 2 Read Free Page A

apex predators with an ability to hone in on a blood trail like nothing I’d ever seen among the undead. That was what had me worried most, that if there was a nos-type hunting these parts we’d get found on account of Gabby’s gunshot wound. But if I was really lucky tonight, that mule would get wind of a deader and run off to the next county, taking the scent of Gabby’s blood with it. If I was lucky.
    And then of course there were the ’thropes to contend with, and I honestly had no idea how I’d fare if one of them showed up. All I had to go on were rumors and hearsay, since we’d never had even a single wolf down in these parts, not in all the eight years or so since the bombs fell and the world went mad. I’d heard they were fast, incredibly strong, and that they healed almost as quickly as you could hurt them. But if what I knew about the effects of silver on the undead held true for ’thropes, then I could at least take comfort in having several full mags of silver rounds for the Glocks and my HK handy.
    As the sun was going down, I was ruminating on all this and heading back up to the attic to check on Gabby, when I heard something clatter in the house below me. Huh. I set the food I’d found down on the carpeted surface of the stairs, all of which consisted of some stale crackers and a jar of canned veggies that may or may not have been of questionable provenance. Listening for further sounds of movement, I drew my battle-axe in one hand and my Bowie knife in the other. The Bowie knife was ten inches of high carbon steel that I kept honed sharper than Stephen Hawking on Ritalin, and the axe was a modernized version of a Vietnam-era battlehawk, a military tomahawk that we’d used for breaching doors and busting heads back in the ’Stan.
    Despite the neat hardware, if I got bum-rushed by a vamp I’d be truly and righteously screwed. Deaders were up and active by now, so whatever might be in here would need to be taken out quietly; that’d be a tall order if a vamp got in. But as much as I’d hate having to go hand-to-hand with a vamp, firing a gun at night in the Outlands was like ringing a zombie dinner bell; every deader in the area would be on you before you could say “uninvited.” I hoped to hell that noise was just a can falling over.
    With a death grip on the tomahawk and Bowie knife, I crept down the stairs and moved in the direction I’d heard the noise. It’d sounded like it came from the kitchen, so I ninja-ed over to that area of the house, pausing around the corner to listen for anything moving. Not hearing a peep, I turned the corner with my blade forward and battle-axe high, only to see an old bulging can of dog food on the floor in front of the pantry. Letting out a sigh of relief, I walked forward to see if there might be any canned food I’d missed, and then realized that I had shut that door just minutes before. Senses on high alert, I pulled back the pantry door, took one peek, and then bolted toward the stairs just as fast as my moccasin-covered feet could carry me.
    What I’d seen as I looked around the pantry door had chilled me to the bone; it was an open trap door, a miniature deathly maw that indicated someone or some thing else was in here with us. As I hauled ass to the attic, I mentally kicked myself for not being more thorough in my search of the house earlier. Just as I rounded the corner to the stairs, I heard the attic door close with a loud BANG! and knew I was going to be too late. I took the stairs two at a time and leapt off the top step to reach the pull cord for the attic door, yanking the ladder down and scrambling up it like a bat out of hell.
    I cleared the top rung in a leap and dive rolled toward where I’d left Gabby. As I came up out of my roll, I saw an emaciated figure in a threadbare nightgown leaning over the kid’s still form, sniffing at the large amount of blood that’d soaked through Gabby’s dressing. The once-human thing before me was a