THEM Gabby's Run: Paranormal Apocalypse: A Zombie Apocalypse Military Novel (THEM Paranormal Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 4)

by M. D. Massey

  Tony shook his head. “Nope. Well, that’s not entirely true. Anyone can take the serum, but we’re looking for people who fit a certain profile.”

  I frowned and faked impatience as he perched on the ladder, listening for any movement on the other side. It was fun grilling him when he was distracted, because it was the only time I could get any info out of him. I didn’t let up.

  “What kind of profile? Come on, Tony‌—‌stop making me interrogate you, and just spill already.”

  He chuckled. “Fine. My hands and feet are going to sleep, you know.” He readjusted his position as he cocked an ear and listened at the trap door above him before continuing. “Alright, the deal is that we have to be careful who we give the serum to. Put power in the wrong hands, and it could wreck the whole program.”

  “Because some people wouldn’t want other people to have it, right?”

  He smiled in approval. “Exactly, mija. Now you’re thinking.”

  “But what makes him the chosen one?”

  It was easy to see that Tony was carefully weighing how he responded. “He’s what we would call a ‘moral sociopath.’”

  I frowned. “What the heck does that mean?”

  Tony shrugged. “It’s a bullshit term, really, since in truth there’s no such thing. But in practical terms it means he has a strong moral compass, but he’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done. People like him are very rare.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Are you a ‘moral sociopath’?”

  He hesitated before nodding. “Yes, but since I was involved in the early trials, I can’t take the latest version of the serum.”

  “What’s so great about the latest version?”

  “Honestly? For the right person, it can make them more dangerous than any supernatural creature.”

  I snorted. “What, like give him superpowers?”

  “No, not like that. Look, this is all classified and I’m not even supposed to be telling you this. Just know that once we get the serum in this guy, he might just save us all.” He looked up at the hatch. “Now, be quiet. I want to get out of here before daybreak.”

  I nodded and said no more. But as we left the confines of the escape tunnel, my mind kept turning over everything he’d said. It sounded like we were heading into some serious danger to find this Scratch guy. I just hoped he was worth it.

  EIGHT

  PASS

  We made good time after leaving the Facility. While we were in range of the pest control signal we didn’t have to worry much about running into supernaturals, so we were able to move faster until we left Camp Bullis. The thing about deaders was that they’d sometimes gather in a single area and just stand around in a holding pattern, still and quiet. They’d stay that way until something or someone came along to draw their attention.

  Many a person had been killed by stumbling on a deader herd hibernating in a holding pattern, simply because they hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings. For that reason alone it made sense to move as quietly as possible at all times, and also to stay constantly alert. My uncle had drilled that into my head from the time I was a little girl. So once we left the signal area, we slowed down to avoid running into deaders and other SNEs.

  While we traveled, my eyes scanned our surroundings for danger. In some places, it looked as if man had never been there. Trees and brush had taken over where there had once been open fields, and animals wandered and fed among the weeds and bushes, in most cases unaware of our passing. In other places, though, the evidence left behind was apparent. Rusted out cars, abandoned homes, and the occasional skull or intact skeleton.

  And, of course, the deaders. They weren’t as active during the day, but they were still always there. Usually they’d hide among the trees or inside an abandoned building to avoid the bright sunlight around this time of the day. Tony said it was because they didn’t like the sun, while Lorena said it was a primitive kind of self-preservation instinct. The sun dried them out or something, or made them decay faster; I could never remember which it was. But they avoided bright sunlight, which meant you always had to be super careful when scavenging buildings or finding a place to hide for the night.

  Mostly, though, we stayed in safe houses while we were on the trail. The Outlands, that space between the safe zones and the Badlands, was dotted with them. Most people avoided the Outlands, except for scavvers, the caravans, and punters. Nearly everyone but the punters and the most adventurous or crazy scavengers stayed out of the Badlands. That’s where the worst SNEs were, the really bad ones. Revenants, vamps, and werewolves.

  And that’s pretty much where we were headed.

  We stopped at midday to eat a small meal and drink some water. Meals on the trail were never heavy or large while we were still moving, because overeating could make you groggy, and that could get you killed. So, we ate small pieces of jerky and dried fruit. While we ate, Uncle Tony quizzed me on my knowledge of SNEs.

  “Deaders. Describe.”

  This one was easy. “Level one supernatural entity. Enhanced strength and sense of hearing, reduced visual acuity and range of vision. Variabilities in other senses, depending on the condition of the reanimated corpse. Loss of motor function due to nervous system decay means they’re slow, clumsy, and typically only dangerous in large groups. No higher reasoning capabilities. Primary danger to humans is their bite‌—‌or to be more specific, their saliva, which carries a pathogen that kills then reanimates the host within two to twenty-four hours. Most reliable method to eliminate them is to destroy the brain stem.”

  He nodded his approval. “Excellent. Tell me about vamps, of the nosferatu variety.”

  “Superhumanly strong and fast. Visual acuity normal, sense of smell attuned to human scents. Hearing is able to detect a human heartbeat at ten meters under optimal conditions. Their metabolism is uniquely adapted to process and digest human blood for sustenance, and the more recently they have fed, the stronger they are and the harder they are to kill. Teeth and nails are adapted to be used as offensive weapons, and to facilitate bleeding human prey when feeding. Their saliva also carries a pathogen that can kill a human and cause them to reanimate as a revenant, or rarely, as another vampire. However, the nos’ must keep the victim alive and exchange blood with them in order for the transformation process to occur. Failure rate for this process is unknown.”

  Tony pursed his lips. “And how do you kill them?”

  “Destruction of the heart, since their bodies still have to pump blood. But that method is slower, and they can still fight for a time after being staked. Besides, their skeletal structure makes it difficult to stab them in the heart. So the best way to kill them is either decapitation, or destruction of the brain stem, as it is with most undead SNEs.”

  “Nicely done. You’re a good student, Gabby.”

  I smiled. “I had a good teacher.”

  “No argument there.” He put his water bottle away and stood up. “Alright, let’s move out. I want to make it halfway to Austin by nightfall, check in at that punter camp in San Marcos.”

  I grimaced. “Ugh. I know you have to deal with those people, but do I have to go in with you?”

  “You do if you want to learn the trade. Handling assets is part and parcel to what we do, and it’s the best way to get intel when direct surveillance isn’t an option. Remember‌—‌”

  “‌—‌’you can’t gather intel on a threat you don’t know exists.’ Alright, already, I won’t complain about going into the punter camp with you. But I hate the way they look at me, and they all smell.”

  He chuckled. “Speaking of which, you’re a little too clean to be heading into a punter camp. Make sure you dirty yourself up a bit before we go in. Don’t want to arouse suspicion.”

  “Or anything else, for that matter. Of course, I’d bet that a clean woman who smells nice is a major turn-off to those salvajes.”

  Tony’s brow furrowed at my remarks. “Don’t be so sure, mija. Keep your hea
d on a swivel, and stay close to me when we go in. Got it?”

  “Yes sir, commander.” I mock saluted him, just as we heard the snap of twigs and moaning coming from some trees to the northwest. We grabbed our packs and drew our weapons, me the crossbow and him his silenced 9mm. You always grabbed your supplies before you grabbed your weapons, because most of the time running was a better choice for survival than fighting. At least, it was for most people. And getting caught out here without food or clean water? That was a death sentence, in many cases.

  I peered through the trees, searching for what had made the noise until I spotted what it was. Bunch of deaders, and we just happened to be in their way. They were mindless, and could wander in one direction for a hundred miles unless they found something in their way, or someone to chase. It was just dumb luck that we’d stopped to eat in their path.

  “Do we want to avoid them, or take them out?” I asked as we backed away and scanned for more threats.

  Tony tilted his head as he made his decision. “They’ve already heard us, so we may as well take them out. Besides, it’ll be good practice for you, and you still need to redeem yourself after that mishap yesterday.”

  “Oh, like you’ve never made a mistake on a mission before.”

  “Not one that would get me killed, or I wouldn’t be here now.” He turned and looked at the few deaders coming out of the brush fifteen meters away from us. “How many?”

  I’d already determined the size of the group while we were chatting. “I count less than a dozen, and one of them isn’t shuffling. Sounds like we have a ghoul.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Think you can handle it?”

  I was already moving forward at an angle to the group of deaders, who now approached us more rapidly. “Do you even have to ask?”

  As I faded off to the right, firing my crossbow and reloading it on the move, I heard Tony mumble something about cocky teenagers under his breath in Spanish. I ignored his remarks and kept dropping deaders, straining my senses in an effort to locate the ghoul all the while.

  NINE

  UNSEEN

  I’d put bolts in five of the deaders before I spotted the ghoul stalking Tony through the live oak and juniper cedar. Tony was more than likely aware he was being hunted, but chances were good he wanted to see how I’d handle the situation. We had deaders on three sides now, and the ghoul was trying to flank Tony and cut off his exit. I decided to open another route of escape before taking the ghoul out, and switched the crossbow to my other hand so I could draw the Kabar.

  I ran silently through the trees and undergrowth, coming up behind a deader that had zeroed in on Tony’s position. I stabbed my blade into the base of its skull, pulling the knife out with a sucking sound and a slight pop as it dropped. I killed another in the same manner, which left the ghoul and four more deaders to deal with.

  That ghoul was mine.

  I kept the Kabar out and stalked toward the last place I’d seen the ghoul. I caught a glimpse of the plaid shirt it wore as it disappeared behind a stand of juniper. I followed the curve of the trees at a distance, certain I’d come up behind the creature and put a bolt right in its spine.

  But as I rounded the last tree branch, all I found was a scrap of shirt, swaying in the wind. Shit. I pivoted and brought the crossbow up just in time to see the ghoul lunging for my back. I was still half-turned away from it in a crouch when I shot under my right arm in an upward angle, chambering the Kabar for a reverse stab. My bolt pierced the ghoul through the neck, leaving the veins and the last inch of the shaft sticking out of its windpipe. It staggered momentarily, and I stood up quickly, uncoiling my body as I drove the Kabar up under its chin, through the soft palate and into the brain pan.

  The ghoul fell at my feet, wrenching the knife from my grasp. I scanned my surroundings as I drew my .22, nearly shooting Tony as he appeared from behind a large live oak tree not twenty feet away.

  I realized what had happened, and instantly seethed with anger. “You set me up, pendejo! What the hell is wrong with you?” My eyes teared up as I processed how my uncle had just betrayed me. He must’ve torn off a piece of the ghoul’s shirt and left it on the tree for me to find. How he’d done it without the ghoul noticing was beyond me, but it was a nasty trick that had almost got me killed.

  He raised his hands in an effort to calm me. “Settle down, hothead‌—‌you were never in any danger. I wanted to see if you’d make the same mistake twice. And, I had your back the entire time. If you hadn’t seen the ghoul, I’d have dropped it before it ever touched you.”

  I believed him, but I was still pissed. I scowled at him and took several deep breaths to calm myself down. I supposed that I should have expected he would test me like this after the mistake I’d made the day before, even though I hated him for it. Well, hate was a strong word; let’s just say I wouldn’t be speaking to him in anything other than one-word replies for a while.

  “Come on, mija‌—‌you know I’m only trying to make you strong, so you can be safe when I’m not around to protect you.”

  I ignored him and wiped my knife down before sheathing it, checking my other weapons and gear for damage while Tony looked on. Once I finished my gear check, I began retrieving my crossbow bolts and hiding the bodies, not saying a single word to him. He began helping me, and we finished the task in uncomfortable silence. Neither of us spoke to each other the entire way to San Marcos.

  We reached the punter camp shortly before dark on the second day, and snuck in by climbing the fence in the back. The camp was located inside an old junkyard, and the metal fence surrounding it was barely enough to keep out the deaders attracted to the noise and bustle of the place. The punters had roving guards walking the fence with makeshift spears to kill the deaders who crowded the fence, preventing them from knocking the fence down. We bribed a sullen, gap-toothed teen to let us sneak in, and headed along the outskirts of the camp to Tony’s contact.

  The camp was a mash-up of old junked cars and trucks, trailer homes, campers, and metal shipping containers that had been converted into living quarters… if you could call them that. The punters didn’t seem to value hygiene or orderliness at all, and both the shelters and campfires were randomly situated throughout the junkyard. In some places, people lived in junked vans and buses; in others, cars made cramped, uncomfortable living quarters. The smell of piss and shit was everywhere, and I tried to look inconspicuous as I carefully avoided stepping on patches of ground that looked suspicious.

  It didn’t work, though. As I walked alongside Tony, men began catcalling from their homes and campfires as we passed by.

  “Hey, how much for the girl, killer? You know I pay good money for them young ones!”

  “Yo sweet thing, take a break from your old man and see how a real man treats you. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

  Even the women chimed in. “Oh baby, I’d love to turn you out. Mama gonna treat you good‌—‌real, real good. Make you my best bitch, never have to put out for a man again. C’mon, sugar, don’t be like that…”

  I ignored them all. That was the rule, and that was really the only thing to do. In their world, a young girl like me was worthless‌—‌even less than worthless. Oh, don’t kid yourself, I was worth a lot as far as trading for ammo and other stuff. But my worth as a human? Nada. May as well be a pile of pig shit, for all they cared. Women and girls got traded and sold back and forth by punters all the time, and the ones who lived somewhat free only did so because they paid protection money to someone mean enough to keep the rest at bay.

  So I kept my mouth shut, while Tony let them say what they liked as we kept walking. It was humiliating, but I never let it show.

  It didn’t take long for us to reach our destination. I followed Tony closely as we strolled up to a small, dilapidated travel camper. A gas lantern shone through a sheer red curtain in a window. As we walked up, I heard the sounds of two people rutting coming from inside. I watched as Tony waited patiently, ignoring the di
sgusting chorus of grunts, heavy breathing, and smacking of bodies that could be heard through the thin aluminum siding. I busied myself with observing the other residents in the camp as they gave us nasty, sideways glances, and tried not to listen.

  A few minutes later a fat, balding gringo came barreling out the door of the trailer. He pulled his pants up and buckled his belt as he stepped down onto the cinder block step below. He wiped his mouth on the back of one greasy sleeve and sighed, then noticed us. His eyes locked in on me.

  “How much fer the girl?”

  Tony stared him down. “Not for sale. Keep moving if you like breathing.”

  “I’ll give you‌—‌” he dug around in his pockets as he hitched up his pants with one hand, “‌—‌three rounds of 5.56 and a round of .45. That’s better than anyone else’ll offer.”

  Tony continued to stare. “Last warning.”

  The man must’ve seen something in my uncle’s eyes that warned him off, and he backed away with his pants falling down past his ass. “Okay, okay‌—‌no need to get testy. But if you change yer mind, ask for Jimbo over at Filthy Pete’s.”

  Tony continued to stare until the man was gone, and I wondered just how filthy someone would have to be in this place to be nicknamed Filthy Pete. My uncle turned to me and beckoned me to follow him.

  “Let’s go. I’d like to get out of here and to the safe house as soon as possible.” I followed him inside the camper, curious to find out what a whore could tell us that we couldn’t discover on our own.

  TEN

  LEADEN

  The inside of the camper was nastier than I’d imagined. There were old food cartons, dirty clothes, and other more disgusting things strewn everywhere. The place smelled like rotten food and rotten living, and I nearly threw up as my heightened senses were overcome by the smells. It was my first time here, but I wasn’t shocked at all that the myth of the virtuous hooker didn’t play out in real life. Gosh, who knew?