THEM (Season 1): Episode 1 (8 page)

Since she didn’t make a move, I reached into my pack and pulled out some jerky and some flatbread I made from ground pecans, acorns, and cattail flour. It didn’t taste like much, but it was filling, and the ingredients were easy to find in these parts. I handed a few pieces of each over to her, and she snatched them away hesitantly.

“Eat slowly. I’d nibble on the bread first, let your stomach get used to it, otherwise you’ll be throwing it back up.”

She nodded and did as I instructed, but I noticed that she took a good hunk of the jerky in her mouth as well, chewing slowly and savoring the sensation of having food in her mouth. One of the tricks you learn when food is scarce is to chew everything slowly and thoroughly. For one, it helps break down your food completely, so your body can get as much nutrition from it as possible. Second, it helps so that you begin feeling full while you’re still eating. That way you don’t squander your rations on just a few meals.

“I’m Aidan. Some folks call me Sully.”

“I know who you are—at least, I was pretty sure before you said so. Not many Mexican hunters out here that talk like a gringo, and the axe sort of gave it away. My
tío
used to talk about you. He said you were the best hunter around, and a little crazy.”

I laughed. “Well, to be honest I sort of try to make people think I’m a little crazy. Reputation is everything in this business, and if people think you’re both crazy and dangerous, they’re less likely to try to put a knife or bullet in your back when you’re not looking.” I waited for a moment, but she didn’t seem inclined to reply. Not wanting to push or pry, I left her to her meal in silence. Truth be told, I was starting to like this kid. Most kids you couldn’t shut up, and I liked the quiet. Not to mention that being quiet was a survival skill. You can’t listen when you’re talking all the time, makes it easy to miss what’s going on around you.

I studied the map Sam had given me for a moment, then waited for the girl to finish eating. After she was done, I laid out my bedroll and tucked my rifle back on the other side of me against the wall. After the kid got settled in, I turned out the lamp, reclining with one of the Glocks on my chest.

A couple of minutes later, she spoke up again. “My name is Gabby.”

“Short for Gabriella?”

“Yeah, but I go by Gabby.”

“Gabriella is a beautiful name. Gabriel was the messenger of God in the Bible. It’s a good name.” I could hear her quiet breathing in the dark, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gabby. I hunt monsters, not people. Now, get some sleep.”

I only dozed off after hearing her breathing slow into the steady cadence of deep sleep that comes from knowing you’re safe. I expected it had been a while since she felt completely safe from whatever things, man or creature, had been hunting her since she lost her uncle. Poor kid. I’d have to figure out what to do with her in the morning.

- - -

[7
]

I
woke before Gabby did, and waited to hear her stir to see what she’d do. After getting dressed in the dark, she waited without a sound for me to wake. Truth be told, I’d wanted to get a move on earlier, but I hated to wake the kid, figuring this was the first good rest she’d had in a while. Plus, I needed to see if she’d try to bolt with any of my stuff. Trust was a hard thing to come by out here, and even though she’d saved my hide yesterday, I wasn’t going to assume any deep loyalties from her.

“I’m already up, Gabby,” I said as I turned my flashlight on. I’d already gotten my gear together in the dark while she was sleeping, and was ready go to before she awoke. She was covering her eyes from the sudden glare as I looked over at her. She appeared ready to go, another indication that she’d been living the hunter’s life for a while.

Curious, I decided to find out more. “Your uncle—how long had he been a hunter?”

She shrugged. “As long as I can remember. My parents died in the War, so he raised me. He—wasn’t a very nice man before the War, at least that’s what he told me. He was good at killing Them, and I think that’s why, because of what he did before. He taught me how to be a hunter, too.”

I paused and waited. It was the most I’d heard out of her since we’d saved each other’s bacon, and I needed to hear more before I decided what to do with her. Without any prodding, she continued. “I guess my uncle had been a soldier before the War, for the Mexican army. He did things that were against the law when he got out of the army, working for people who sold drugs. He found me in one of the camps after the bombs fell and my parents were killed. When the camps started getting overrun, he took me away to live outside of the cities.”

She paused and took a sip of water, then continued. “About three weeks ago, we were hunting a revenant for a small settlement about thirty miles north and east of here. They were living pretty close to the Corridor, which my
tío
said was stupid, but we needed the work.”

“You helped him hunt?”

“Yeah, but mostly just during the day. He’d leave me in safe houses or in the settlements at night when he was out.” She wiped something out of her eye and turned away from me, rustling around in her bag as a pretense for hiding her face. “This time, he just never came back.”

“The men in the settlement—did they hurt you, Gabby?”

She took a moment before answering. “No, I didn’t let them. When it was clear that my
tío
wasn’t coming back, I split when they weren’t paying attention and went out to look for him. All I found was some of his gear, and some big footprints, like a dog almost. I got scared and ran.”

I handed her a little jerky and bread, and let her eat for a minute or two. “Gabby, I know this is probably a lot to ask, but do you think you can take me to where your uncle disappeared?”

She looked up at me with fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Then something snapped into place within her, like the bolt sliding forward on an assault rifle to feed a new round. I could see on her face that she wanted to find her uncle, dead or alive. She nodded once, and continued eating. Tough kid.

I took a little sustenance myself, and then topped off our water bottles and canteens from the stores in the safe house. The water smelled stale and flat, but it would be clean, and it was tough disinfecting water in the Outlands. Not a good idea to stand still out in the open while boiling water, but sometimes you just couldn’t avoid it. I had a supply of pool disinfectant tucked away at the cabin that would last me a good long while, but I used the tried and true boiling method whenever I could in order to preserve my chems. Still, I carried some with me whenever I went out on a hunt, so if we had to we could use any relatively clean source of water to replenish our supplies.

It was past time to head out, but before we left the safe house I wanted to be sure that we were in the clear. I waited on the steps for a good long while to listen. After a few minutes, I could faintly hear voices in the distance getting closer. It was another few minutes before we could make out what they were saying. I counted three voices, and maybe five or six sets of footsteps. Obviously, a group of punters looking for some easy prey.

I heard a high-pitched, whiny voice call out from just outside the exit. “Where’d they go?”

Another voice, this one lower and further away, responded. “I don’t know—their tracks end here at this place, and then nothing.”

The entire winery compound was connected by concrete sidewalks and flagstone footpaths, and I was glad we’d stuck to them in our approach from the vineyard to the safe house. I placed a finger on my lips to motion at Gabby for silence, needlessly, I was sure, but it never hurt to be careful. She nodded in response, and sat still with her hand close to her pistol.

Most people assume that a .22-caliber bullet is relatively harmless, but nothing could be further from the truth. Prior to the War, more people were killed each year with .22-caliber weapons than with any other round. Fired from a rifle, the small caliber round was highly accurate, and could easily wound enough to hinder movement, pierce internal organs, and generally mess up your day.

But from close up, a small .22 pistol like Gabby’s could be deadly. At close range the .22-caliber round could easily penetrate the brain pan where it would bounce around for a while, turning the brain matter within to mush. Plus, when silenced they were the closest thing to quiet you could get in a round. Silenced weapons still made a lot of noise, but the smaller the round, the less noise they made. I had a sneaking suspicion that Gabby’s uncle had given her that weapon, and that it once had mated with a silencer as well. The Mark II pistol was often used as an assassin’s weapon, and while not the best choice for close combat, it would do in a pinch.

While we were waiting I checked my pistols and rifle to make sure I had a round chambered in each. Gabby did the same, and I silently made note of her ability to learn by observation. Soon the voices faded off into the distance, but I was sure they’d leave someone to observe the place in case we were hiding close by, or perhaps on the odd chance we were using the place as our base of operations.

I’d never be so sloppy as to stay in the same place two nights in a row on a hunt, but these folks wouldn’t know that. One thing was for certain, we couldn’t leave the same way we came in. Thankfully this place was marked with two entrances and exits, and last night I’d determined that the second one was hidden behind some shelving on the back wall. I motioned for Gabby to continue listening and then moved the shelves as silently as I could, regretting even what little sound they made. Once moved out of the way, the shelves revealed a second door that looked almost like what you’d find on a submarine, with a levered release handle that I was certain would squeak like crazy when we turned it.

Concerned that the noise would give us away, I grabbed the oil lamp and dabbed my finger in the reservoir, applying the oil liberally to the door hinges and release joints. I took a good five minutes to get as much as I could in the right spots, and then we waited another ten until I tried the hatch. It took a bit of force to get it to budge, and then the handle gave a short squeak while moving fairly freely to release the door.

Leaving the other entrance unlocked in case others who knew about this place had to use it in our absence, we left through the small escape tunnel, which wasn’t much more than a metal corrugated sewer culvert that had been welded to the walls of the shelter. It led a few feet over, then took a ninety degree turn up to another metal door that was bolted from the inside. I released the bolt and ever so slowly raised the door to scan our surroundings. Once I was certain that it was clear, I motioned Gabby to follow.

The tunnel exited inside the barn, which was mostly filled with farming equipment and other implements that I presumed were for harvesting grapes. This hatch was covered by an old crate that had been attached to the top of the door for concealment, which was why the punters hadn’t found it. I motioned for Gabby to wait, and then stalked over to a window to take a peek outside. I did the same at the two exit doors and a window on the opposite side.
Bingo
.
I spotted a lookout near the wood line behind a low wall on the north side, probably waiting where he presumed we’d exit or return if we’d already split. I signaled Gabby to follow in silence, and we left via the exit most opposite to where he was staking the place out.

I weighed the pros and cons of taking him out, then dismissed the idea offhand as it would only bring unwanted attention to us. Instead I chose caution over valor and took us further out of his line of sight, and then in an easterly direction that paralleled the road. As we left the grounds, we avoided the vineyards for fear of startling birds that were sure to be there feasting on grapes that’d ripened on the vine.

That sucked, because I was looking forward to breakfasting on those grapes before we left. However, I didn’t want to risk tipping the sentry off and attracting a group of punters to our trail. My plan was to get to Canyon Lake today and then head north to find the settlement where Gabby had lost contact with her uncle, hopefully to find some proof that ’thropes were in the Corridor. I’d need solid evidence in order to stir the folks back in the safe zone into action, and frankly I wasn’t looking forward to getting that proof. Not in the least bit.

- - -

W
e came in sight of Canyon Lake sometime after 1:00 in the afternoon, coming in from the west and following the contour of the lake around the north shore to reach the entrance to the supposedly abandoned settlement. I certainly trusted Sam’s word, but I had a hard time believing that an entire settlement could just vanish into thin air. Soon, however, I’d be able to see for myself.

As we approached the peninsula, I motioned to Gabby for caution and had her drop back several yards as she followed me. The point where the peninsula met the mainland was mostly bare of trees and large brush, and the settlers had wisely chosen the narrowest point at which to build a barricade out of old cars, metal shipping containers, tires filled with concrete, commercial trash receptacles, scrap metal, and pretty much anything solid enough to function as an emplacement and barricade. They also left a killing field of a good 150 feet in front of the wall, providing a clear line of fire for sentries. Put a few guards with rifles up there and it would be more than adequate to stop anyone foolish enough to approach the outpost with bad intentions.

The settlement itself had been a gamble from the start, and was the brainchild of a group of enterprising scavengers who wanted to create a waypoint closer to the Corridor for trade and rest. But despite their precautions, any settlement this close to the corridor was a risk, because the closer you got to the larger cities the greater the likelihood that you’d run into the undead. The larger cities were full of zombies, ghouls, and revenants, and I knew for a fact that several powerful nosferatu had staked out sizable chunks of the Corridor as their hunting grounds as well.