THEM (Season 1): Episode 2

THEM

Season 1 Episode 2

A Post-Apocalyptic Thrill Ride By

M.D. Massey

Modern Digital Publishing

AUSTIN, TEXAS

Copyright © 2014 by M.D. Massey.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

Modern Digital Publishing

P.O. Box 270132

Austin, Texas 78727

––––––––

THEM Season 1 Episode 2 / M.D. Massey. —1st ed.

SWALLOW

PARCHED

PRAYER

PARTING

FOEMEN

FRIENDS

COUNTRY

CARE

HUSHED

Dedicated to those who stalk the night

so that others may sleep in peace

Skimming lightly, wheeling still,

The swallows fly low

Over the field in clouded days,

The forest-field of Shiloh —

Over the field where April rain

Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain

Through the pause of night

That followed the Sunday fight

Around the church of Shiloh —

The church so lone, the log-built one,

That echoed to many a parting groan

And natural prayer

Of dying foemen mingled there —

Foemen at morn, but friends at eve —

Fame or country least their care:

(What like a bullet can undeceive!)

But now they lie low,

While over them the swallows skim,

And all is hushed at Shiloh.

~Herman Melville,
Shiloh: A Requiem

[1]

A
s Gabby fell in the water, I immediately dropped all my gear and dived in after her. She hadn’t gone far, yet her body was limp and lifeless as I lifted her head out of the water. A few hard strokes got me back to where I could reach the dock, and thankfully Bernie was there to help me lift her out. I’d never thought about how small she was, but as he took her from my arms I noted that she was so light I probably could’ve easily pulled her out, even without his help.

Once Bernie had her, I scrambled out of the lake and immediately started a battlefield trauma assessment, checking her from head to toe. Thankfully it didn’t look like she’d gotten too much water in her lungs, and she was still breathing, so I pulled back her shirt to see where all the blood was coming from. She’d been shot in the left side of her abdomen, with the entrance wound in the left upper quadrant just below the rib cage, possibly with a small-caliber rifle round. I couldn’t find an exit wound, so I assumed something had slowed down the round before it hit her, that maybe it was a ricochet instead of a direct hit. I hoped that was the case, because the less kinetic energy a round hit you with, the less internal damage it would cause.

Bernie brought me a first-aid kit from the boat and opened the case for me. There was a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the case, as well as some disinfectant liquid. I was completely unprepared and unqualified to perform emergency surgery to remove a bullet, so all I could do was clean the wound, stop the external bleeding, and get Gabby on antibiotics until I could get her to someone who knew more about field surgery than I did. I doused my hands with alcohol, poured a bunch on and around the wound, and then began cleaning the area with antiseptic and a sterile gauze pad. Once I had the area good and sterile, I covered it with more gauze and taped it shut. Then, I applied a pressure bandage to the area. That was as much as I could do for the moment.

After I had her wound dressed, Bernie helped me move her into the main building and onto one of the dining tables, suggesting to me that it would be the best place to care for her. He looked at me with regret, and I could tell he’d seen a person get gut shot before. “Don’t look good, Scratch—not without a doctor.”

“I know. The problem is, I don’t know of a single qualified surgeon anywhere around here. The last one we had in the settlements got eaten by one of his patients, dumb son of a bitch that he was.” Gabby chose that moment to start to stir, so I looked over at Bernie and pointed by the door where I’d dropped my gear on the way in. “Bernie, can you hand me my bag?” Bernie brought me my backpack, and I rummaged around until I found what I was looking for, a waterproof hard case where I kept my most important, life-saving chems and drugs. I pulled out a packet of antibiotics, mixed the packet in some water, and had Bernie help me prop her up. She choked most of it down, grimacing in pain as she did so.

“Ugh. That tastes like ass,” she muttered to us weakly.

I had to smile at that. “You’ve been shot—that ‘ass water’ will help prevent your wound from getting infected until we can get the bullet out.” I paused and squeezed her hand. “This was my fault. I should’ve been looking after you better.”

She shook her head, gently. “Naw, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have stood up. One of those assholes got a lucky shot, right after I pegged that guy who was climbing into the boat. I turned around to wave at you, and that’s when I got hit. I should know better—my
tío
would have my ass for this.” She grimaced. “Oh man, I might have to throw that back up.”

“Try to avoid it if you can help it. Antibiotics are going to be critical for keeping you healthy until I can get you to a healer.”

She shook her head, more vigorously than the last time. “No. No healers. Take me to
La Araña
. She’ll know what to do.”

I was skeptical at best about the idea. “I thought you said
La Araña
was a
curandera
—I doubt very seriously she’s trained in trauma medicine.”

Gabby chuckled softly, then grimaced again. “Just trust me, Scratch—she can help. I don’t want no one else cutting on me. Nothing but butchers in the settlements. I’ve seen it.”

I nodded in agreement, because the kid had a point. “Okay, we’ll follow your lead.” I’d already decided that getting her back to the safe zone would take too long, anyway. Despite the antibiotics, she’d likely be septic by the time I got her there. Plus we’d play hell dodging the undead along the way. Nos-types could smell fresh blood from a ways off; they were like sharks when it came to blood. Taking her sixty miles in this condition would be a mistake.

Gabby’s eyes closed, and then they fluttered open again. “God, this hurts. Give me a map so I can show you where she’s at.” I handed her my map. She looked it over for a second, and pointed to a heavily wooded area about five miles north and east of our current position. That was a hell of a lot better than trekking back to the safe zone. Even so, Gabby had mentioned
La Araña
several times previous to this, and I wondered why she didn’t head there when her uncle disappeared on her. I tried to hide my suspicion as I responded. “That close, huh?”

She opened her eyes, just barely, and sighed. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. I was going to take you to meet her once we were done here, while we were on the way to where my uncle vanished. Just get me to her and she’ll explain everything.”

“Fair enough. But I want straight answers once we get there—and you’d better not die on me before I get them.”

She flipped me off in reply. “If I look like I’m going to die from this mosquito bite, you can shoot me yourself. Now, leave me alone until it’s time to go.” I chuckled and left the canteen where she could reach it.

Bernie looked at me with suspicion in his eyes, and motioned for me to follow him outside. “Well, what do you think?”

“I was going to ask you that. These are your hunting grounds, no pun intended. This being your neighborhood and all, I was wondering if you’d ever heard of this woman.”

He shook his head in the negative. “Nope, can’t say that I have. Heard talk about some medicine woman out in the sticks further south, but I couldn’t tell you what or what not about it. That area she pointed out is pretty damn close to here, and I think we’d have known if there was a healer living in these parts.”

I rubbed my chin and considered the possibilities. “Unless she was laying low, or just passing through.”

“Yeah, I suppose. But from where, and why?”

“Bernie, your guess is as good as mine, but I’ll just have to worry about that later. Right now I need to figure out how to get Gabby to this medicine woman before dark. Let’s go see if those punters left us some transportation.”

- - -

W
e found a horse and a mule, and I loaded up Gabby and headed out with a quick goodbye to Bernie and Margaret. They were good people, and I hoped to see them again soon. They wished me and Gabby luck as we left the gates, and I reflected that we were going to need it. There was no guarantee that we’d find this
curandera
friend of Gabby’s, and besides, she was in no shape to move. But, we really didn’t have a choice in the matter; it was either move her and get some help, or let her die. Either way, the kid was pretty much screwed.

After about a half an hour, I looked back and saw that Gabby’s wound was leaking blood, and she was swaying in the saddle. She looked pale as all hell, and I was worried that she’d fall out. As we were taking the old county and farm-to-market roads, I’d been keeping an eye out for a place to rest since we left the Canyon Lake settlement. I spied an old gas station ahead, and made a beeline for it. Once there, I tethered the animals and got Gabby down from the saddle to check her wound.

Right away I could she was out of it, and besides that she was mumbling incoherently, something about not being a monster and needing to find
el diablo
, or
un diablo
, or something like that. I decided she was just having a fever dream, so I checked her wound and saw it was leaking badly, and the bandage was soaked. Just as I was about to change her bandage, I heard a crash from inside the gas station and saw two deaders milling around inside. They’d probably been in limbo mode until we pulled up, but I could see they were getting agitated and trying to get to the door, which was nothing but shattered glass and a pull bar.

I had no idea how many more deaders might be around, so I decided to just wrap Gabby back up and move on quickly, rather than risk being attacked and overrun. Besides, we were only a few miles from the spot where Gabby had indicated that
La Araña
was camped; the quicker I got her there, the better. I looked over at the store and saw that the deaders were now fighting each other to get out of the gas station door, and would soon be on us. Frustrated and feeling quite useless, I quickly secured her back in the saddle and moved out, leaving the deaders from the gas station moaning and shuffling in slow pursuit far behind us.

Within minutes of leaving the gas station, we came to an old blacktop road that looked like it could take us north into the wooded area Gabby had pointed out to me earlier. I headed us up that way and followed it as it wound through the area, finally coming to a dead end at an old dammed-up creek. Thus far I’d seen not any sign of the old woman, and nothing to indicate the presence of a single other soul living out here, either. It was getting close to dark, Gabby was delirious, and if I didn’t find a place to hole up soon we’d both be toast. I backtracked up the road a bit and took a side trail that looked like an overgrown country driveway.
Bingo.
It ended in a circular drive for a home that someone had cleverly built from an old prefab metal silo.

The silo house looked like it’d once been fortified, but now the front door hung off the hinges and the entire place looked abandoned. However, the windows were still boarded up, and if the place was clear of undead, it might make for a more or less secure place to hide overnight. I left Gabby on the mule and dismounted, then entered the building with my HK at the ready.

I noticed ample evidence of a bloody struggle as soon as I entered the home. It was clear that someone or something had broken down the door, and there were large blood smears on the entryway floor. From the looks of it the blood was weeks, maybe even months, old. I paused to listen, but heard nothing to indicate any movement inside the house. Silence was no indication of safety in the Outlands, however, so I moved as quietly as possible as I continued to clear the rest of the first floor.

Following the circular flow of the layout, I entered the living room next. There I found more blood everywhere, furniture pushed up against the windows, and broken glass and china all over the floor. Further in, I reached the kitchen area and found a single corpse lying facedown on the table, long dead from a gunshot wound delivered at close range to the back of the head. It was a teenage boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen; I noticed he had a paperback copy of
The Hobbit
wedged in his hands. Probably never even saw it coming.