THEM (Season 1): Episode 2 (6 page)

I felt like hammered shit, and probably looked little better, but I knew I had a long trek ahead of me to get back to Gabby and Captain Perez. So, I stretched out a bit to loosen my muscles up, ate a bit of trail bread and some rabbit jerky, chased that with about a pint of water, and got ready to head out. I was climbing down the side of the building when I heard a soft footsteps coming up behind.

“Don’t shoot.” I jumped down from the wooden pallet in a crouch, my hand on my sidearm and ready to draw. The young man I’d rescued was standing about fifteen feet away, just on my side of the corner of the building, looking like he was ready to bolt. His face looked quite a bit better than he had the night before, with just the faintest signs of bruising along his jaw. He was wearing a pair of scuffed-up Vans without socks, some cargo shorts that had seen better days, a T-shirt that said
Truckers do it hauling ass,
and a cheap pair of Wayfarers with black frames and neon-orange temples. He had curly brown hair, a decent tan, and was rangy in that dangerous sort of way that women seem to find appealing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he could have been any kid I grew up with.

I decided to defuse the situation. I’d come to rescue this kid, not shoot him. And besides, I had a feeling that he had vital information on the ’thrope threat. “Nice duds. Did you rob a frat house? As I recall, the last time I saw you, you were sporting a different look.”

He ignored my jibe and walked forward, slowly and cautiously with his hands held in the air like this was a stickup. “The deaders have all settled down inside the building for the day. They hate the sunlight, so we should be clear of them.”

I nodded and squinted back at him. The hell with it, no sense dicking around the bush. “So, you’re a ’thrope.” Statement, not a question.

He grinned like a two-bit cardsharp caught dealing from the bottom of the deck. “What gave it away? Was it the claws and hair, or the fact that I no longer look like I got hit by a truck?”

I shrugged. “What made you come back?”

He stopped grinning, and looked off to the side. “I dunno. You risked your ass to help me. Not many people would.”

“And you expect to return the favor?”

“If I can—that is, if you’ll let me.”

He seemed as normal as any kid I’d ever met. Hell, he reminded me a bit of myself at his age, cocksure and smart-assed to boot. I didn’t know what the hell to think at this point, because I honestly hadn’t thought ahead this far.

“You hungry, kid?”

He shook his head in the negative. “Naw, I took down a wild pig after I left here last night. Takes a lot of protein to heal that much damage.”

“Something told me you weren’t a vegan.” I paused, then decided to take a gamble. “Well, hell—I’m Sully, but most of my friends call me Scratch.” I extended my hand to him.

He backed away a half step, then appeared to reconsider and took two strides forward and took my hand in a firm grip. “I’m Bobby.” We shook, and I noticed his hand was hot, almost like he had a fever. I decided to withhold comment.

“I have some people to meet, Bobby. You’re welcome to come with me, if you want.” I adjusted the straps on my pack, and took off at a brisk walk.

Bobby caught up with me and matched my pace. “Where you headed?”

I paused, unsure of how much I wanted to share with him. “Before I answer your questions, I need you to answer a few of mine. I think you owe me that much.” He remained quiet, which I took as acquiescence. “First off, why did those punters capture you? Did you piss them off or something?”

Bobby shook his head again. “Naw, they work for the pack that’s been patrolling the Corridor—the ones who are taking people. I belong to a neutral pack that roams the coast, and they’re trying to recruit us to help them bring the safe-zone settlers under heel. And by ‘recruit,’ I mean ‘force into indentured servitude.’” I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, and he held his hands up in protest. “Hey, not every lycanthrope wants to fight this war you know. I mean, we’re not like the Zs or the vamps. Some of us just want to be left alone, to hunt with our pack and live in peace.”

“You mean hunt humans?”

Bobby looked at me like I was nuts. “No, man, no way! Lots of us got turned by the ones who came right after the War. They were trying to increase their numbers so they could take out the early resistance. Lycanthropy isn’t like becoming one of the undead. Some people go feral as all hell when they get turned, but a good portion of us stay more or less human after we get turned.”

Something wasn’t adding up. “Bobby, how old are you?”

“Oh, you think I’m bullshitting you because I look like I’m just a kid. Lycanthropy slows down your aging processes—a lot. I was fifteen when I got turned, going on five years ago. I may not look it, but if the shit hadn’t hit the fan, I’d probably be attending college in Austin right about now.”

I thought back to before the War, and all my plans. I’d intended to go back to school, finish my degree, and become a physician’s assistant. Bombs and monsters shot that plan all to hell.
Screw me.

Bobby continued. “Anyways, I escaped with a bunch of ’thropes who didn’t like bowing down to our occult overlords, and we hooked up with a pack of neutrals out along the coast.”

“Neutrals?”

“Yeah, ’thropes that are on neither side. Just want to be left alone, like I said.” Bobby paused for a moment, and then his mind seemed to change track. “You know, there’s still a whole lot of beach down on the coast. Sometimes I go surfing, although the waves aren’t that great. Still, it beats hanging out with the goons in the corridor.”

Holy shit, I just rescued Teen Wolf,
I thought as Bobby waxed poetic about his surfing. One thing was for sure though, I didn’t think Bobby was going to gnaw my arm off anytime soon. Again, thank God for small favors.

- - -

A
s it turned out, Bobby was a walking encyclopedia of information on the various occult species, and more specifically what was going down in the Corridor. As we walked back to the vet clinic, he alternated between filling me in on movements and activity among the undead and ’thropes in the corridor, and regaling me with stories of his surfing adventures down along the coast.

At the moment, he was telling me about his favorite spots to surf. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I could care less. I’d been tuning in and out for the last few hours; the kid could really talk.

“But sometimes, man, there are pirates. You gotta watch out for them. They mostly come up from Mexico way, looking for slaves to take back who knows where.”

That got my interest. “They ever try to take any of your friends?”

Bobby chuckled. “Just once, but, man, they got a surprise! Since then, they stay away from our stretch of the coast.”

Despite Bobby’s ADD, so far I’d learned a few very important things about the activity along the Corridor. According to Bobby, there was a large pack of about two dozen ’thropes patrolling up and down the Corridor collecting humans for slave labor. Apparently, they were controlled by a single alpha wolf who went by the name of Van.

“So, tell me more about this Van character.”

The kid whistled long and low. “You don’t want to jack with him, trust me. He’s one bad dude. He’s one of the ones that came right after the bombs dropped. A real first-gen alpha, strong and mean as shit.”

I’d seen how easily Bobby had lifted that punter off the ground the night before, and wondered how he compared to Van. “Stronger than you?”

“Pfft. I’m a pup compared to this guy. I’ve seen him kick a car chassis across a road, no lie. When he’s under the moon, you better steer clear of him.”

“What do you mean, ‘under the moon’?”

Bobby chewed his lip, and took a moment before he spoke. “Well, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, because it’s really something they don’t want humans to know.”

“Who are they?”

“The alphas. And the packs. Pretty much all the wolves, I guess.”

I nodded. “And...”

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you? Alright, but you can’t let anyone know I told you this, or I’ll be in deep shit with my pack, so you gotta keep this under wraps.”

I held up my right hand with two fingers extended. “Scout’s honor.”

Bobby smirked. “You’re no Boy Scout, that’s for sure. Anyway, the thing is, wolves are stronger when the moon is full and we’re weaker when there’s not a full moon.”

“You changed last night, and it wasn’t a full moon.”

“Yeah, but it was still a mid-phase moon, and that’s enough to go through the change.”

“And what if there was no moon out, or just a crescent moon?”

“No change, man, no way, no how. Don’t care how strong your wolf is.”

I chewed my lip and considered what he was telling me. “Are you stronger when you transform?”

“Oh, most definitely. I mean, I’m strong now”—he flexed his arms for emphasis—“but I’m much stronger after I go through the change.”

“So, if I was going to take out the Corridor pack’s alpha, I’d want to do it under a new moon.” I looked at Bobby for confirmation, and he nodded. “Good to know.”

Bobby was chewing on a blade of grass as we walked along, and his forehead was wrinkled as he walked beside me. “Scratch, there’s something I can’t figure out. If you’re this mighty hunter, why don’t you know all this stuff already?”

“Honestly, you’re the first ’thrope I’ve seen. Everything I’ve known about your kind up until now has all been rumint and speculation.”

“Rumint?”

“‘Rumor intel’—stuff you’ve heard but that you can’t confirm.”

The kid nodded and kept chewing that blade of grass. “Okay, but if that’s the case, then why do you smell like you’ve been around ’thropes?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Run that by me again?”

“Yeah man, you smell like ’thropes. I caught the scent on you back in the warehouse. That was one of the reasons why I decided I could trust you. I figured maybe you were sent by my pack to track me down and help me get away.”

I struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation for what Bobby was saying. “You sure I wasn’t just somewhere that a lycanthrope had been?”

“No, man, I’d know it. The scent would be stale in that case, but this is fresh. One, maybe two days old on you, I’m sure of it. But kind of—I don’t know—off somehow. It’s hard to describe. You smell like a lycanthrope, but now that I’ve been around you for a while, I don’t think it’s wolf.” He leaned in and started sniffing all over me. “Nope, I’m sure of it. Not wolf.”

I pushed him back with a hand on his forehead. “Do you mind? Personal space is sort of a thing with me.”

The kid’s cheeks flushed, and he backed off with his hands in the air. “Sorry, man, I just haven’t been around a lot of humans recently. My bad.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked off to the side. “I just thought you’d want to know what it was, is all.”

I sighed. “It’s okay, just don’t do it again without asking.” The kid nodded and the stupid grin he usually wore popped right back in place. “But if it’s not wolf, then what could it be?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Supposed to be lots of different kinds of lycanthropes. All I’ve ever seen are wolves though, but you have to remember that at five years in, I’m still pretty new at this.”

“This is all pretty new to everybody, I think.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But the rumor is, there’s always been undead and lycanthropes around—just not this many.”

“Bullshit.”

Bobby waved his hands with a look of incredulity on his face. “Look, man, I’m not saying I believe it. But you have to admit, all those stories had to come from somewhere. I mean, practically every culture on earth has some sort of folklore surrounding vampires and shape-shifters. If you think about it, it does kind of make sense.”

I let that roll around inside my head for a while. If what Bobby was saying was true, then why the sudden increase in Them after the War? And if there was some specific event that caused the increase, could it be reversed? There was so much that I didn’t know about the origin of these creatures, and I couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere out there, there might be a way to send all these things back to where they came from.

Right as I was finishing that thought, we started up the road to the vet clinic. I figured I’d better fill the kid in so he knew what he was walking into. I told him about Gabby and the doc, and why we were holed up here. I also hinted that Captain Perez might not be so keen on ’thropes.

“Oh, that’s understandable. I mean, not all ’thropes are friendly, so I get that. I promise, I won’t make any trouble for you guys. And if things get too heavy, I’ll just make myself scarce.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” This seemed to mollify him, and I was glad because he looked a little nervous about meeting more humans. “Just let me do the talking—I’m sure everything will be just fine, once they get to know you.”

We walked around the back of the clinic, rounding the corner of the kennels and dog runs in order to enter through the back door. Bobby noticed all the dog carcasses and skeletons in the runs and kennels, and let out a long sigh.

“Man, humans do some messed up shit.”

“I agree, but I gotta say that after watching you gut that guy last night, that might be the pot calling the kettle black.”

He stuck his lower lip out and squinted one eye. “Point taken. But you have to admit, that punter had it coming.”

“No arguments here.” As we approached the building, the back door opened and Captain Perez walked out. Before I could open my mouth to introduce Bobby to her, she pulled out a pistol and shot him in the chest.

- - -

[7
]

I
looked at her in shock for a moment, and then drew down on her with my HK. “Drop the pistol—now!”

She rolled her eyes and held the weapon up for me to see. It was an air pistol, similar to ones I’d used as a kid for match competition. I looked over at Bobby to see the extent of the damage. The kid was clutching his chest with one hand, and had a syringe dart in the other. He was looking back and forth from me, to the doc, to the dart in his hand, and his eyes were sort of unfocused and glazing over.