Read Online THEM (Book 0): Invasion by M.D. Massey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M.D. Massey
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“Take the kids to the other side of the car, and keep your eyes peeled.”
I drew my Glock and started picking my way through the trees toward the moans.
I could smell them before I saw them. The stench was overpowering, and it was all I could do to avoid gagging and giving away my presence. I stalked forward a ways, crouched down and snuck further into the brush. Another twenty feet or so in, I saw three deaders milling about in a clearing. One was a middle-aged man in cowboy boots and a wife beater. The other two were kids.
Damn it. I could shoot the old guy without hesitation, but could I shoot these two kids? The first one couldn’t have been much older than six, and he was wearing a Spongebob shirt, faded blue jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. The second was a girl who was roughly ten years old, wearing bobby socks, scuffed patent leather oxfords, and a worn but serviceable light blue Sunday dress. Her pale blonde hair draped across her face as she jostled past her brother, gnashing her teeth as blood dribbled down her chin.
I looked past them and saw the source of the blood. Not ten feet beyond, an overweight middle-aged woman was sprawled face down on the ground, her guts and intestines fanned out around her. There was a shotgun and a scattering of shells on the ground beside where she had fallen, and I could see that the back of her head had been blown clean away. The girl noticed me and lunged, but she stumbled and fell. I noticed then that she had a sturdy length of climbing rope around her leg, as did the boy and the man. They were all leashed to the trees that surrounded a primitive campsite, which appeared to have been hastily assembled in the clearing before me.
It didn’t take long to deduce what had happened. One of the kids had probably gotten infected and turned, so the parents tied them up in the hopes that they’d get better. Then, someone else had gotten bit, maybe trying to care for the first one who had turned. Finally, another family member had gotten infected, and mom had been the last one left. Maybe she just couldn’t take it, or perhaps she had sacrificed herself to feed her kids. Either way, it was tragic as hell.
I didn’t have the heart to kill them, so I snuck back through the trees to where I’d left Dan and his family. I holstered my Glock before I walked over to them, and gave Dan and his wife a stern warning with my eyes that said, Don’t go back there. Dan’s wife nodded once, and then she told the kids to find something for the dog to eat.
I motioned Dan and his wife over to the cab of my truck and spoke so the kids wouldn’t hear. “Don’t ask me what I saw back there, because you don’t want to know. Now, are you two armed?”
Dan spoke up first. “No, we don’t believe in violence.” His wife remained silent, and watched me carefully. I reached inside the glove box and pulled out the revolver and the box of shells I’d gotten from the truck driver the day before, then I turned and offered them to the couple. Dan raised his hands in the air and backed away a half-step. “Oh, we don’t believe in guns. Please, put that away before the kids see it.”
His wife, on the other hand, grabbed the pistol out of my hands, snapped the cylinder open to see if it was loaded, checked the bore, and then dumped the rounds out in her hand. She spun the cylinder and snapped it back in, then aimed off into the distance and dry fired it once to see how it functioned. And for the first time since I’d arrived, her husband stood speechless while she calmly and expertly reloaded the pistol.
Sarah turned to him and frowned. “Oh Dan, don’t look so surprised. I grew up around guns, and quite frankly the kids are going to be around them a lot in the coming weeks after we get to my parent’s place. You might not want them in our house, but we can’t afford the luxury of pacifism anymore, not with everything that’s been going on.”
Dan stood there for a moment, stunned.
I drew my Glock and started picking my way through the trees toward the moans.
I could smell them before I saw them. The stench was overpowering, and it was all I could do to avoid gagging and giving away my presence. I stalked forward a ways, crouched down and snuck further into the brush. Another twenty feet or so in, I saw three deaders milling about in a clearing. One was a middle-aged man in cowboy boots and a wife beater. The other two were kids.
Damn it. I could shoot the old guy without hesitation, but could I shoot these two kids? The first one couldn’t have been much older than six, and he was wearing a Spongebob shirt, faded blue jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. The second was a girl who was roughly ten years old, wearing bobby socks, scuffed patent leather oxfords, and a worn but serviceable light blue Sunday dress. Her pale blonde hair draped across her face as she jostled past her brother, gnashing her teeth as blood dribbled down her chin.
I looked past them and saw the source of the blood. Not ten feet beyond, an overweight middle-aged woman was sprawled face down on the ground, her guts and intestines fanned out around her. There was a shotgun and a scattering of shells on the ground beside where she had fallen, and I could see that the back of her head had been blown clean away. The girl noticed me and lunged, but she stumbled and fell. I noticed then that she had a sturdy length of climbing rope around her leg, as did the boy and the man. They were all leashed to the trees that surrounded a primitive campsite, which appeared to have been hastily assembled in the clearing before me.
It didn’t take long to deduce what had happened. One of the kids had probably gotten infected and turned, so the parents tied them up in the hopes that they’d get better. Then, someone else had gotten bit, maybe trying to care for the first one who had turned. Finally, another family member had gotten infected, and mom had been the last one left. Maybe she just couldn’t take it, or perhaps she had sacrificed herself to feed her kids. Either way, it was tragic as hell.
I didn’t have the heart to kill them, so I snuck back through the trees to where I’d left Dan and his family. I holstered my Glock before I walked over to them, and gave Dan and his wife a stern warning with my eyes that said, Don’t go back there. Dan’s wife nodded once, and then she told the kids to find something for the dog to eat.
I motioned Dan and his wife over to the cab of my truck and spoke so the kids wouldn’t hear. “Don’t ask me what I saw back there, because you don’t want to know. Now, are you two armed?”
Dan spoke up first. “No, we don’t believe in violence.” His wife remained silent, and watched me carefully. I reached inside the glove box and pulled out the revolver and the box of shells I’d gotten from the truck driver the day before, then I turned and offered them to the couple. Dan raised his hands in the air and backed away a half-step. “Oh, we don’t believe in guns. Please, put that away before the kids see it.”
His wife, on the other hand, grabbed the pistol out of my hands, snapped the cylinder open to see if it was loaded, checked the bore, and then dumped the rounds out in her hand. She spun the cylinder and snapped it back in, then aimed off into the distance and dry fired it once to see how it functioned. And for the first time since I’d arrived, her husband stood speechless while she calmly and expertly reloaded the pistol.
Sarah turned to him and frowned. “Oh Dan, don’t look so surprised. I grew up around guns, and quite frankly the kids are going to be around them a lot in the coming weeks after we get to my parent’s place. You might not want them in our house, but we can’t afford the luxury of pacifism anymore, not with everything that’s been going on.”
Dan stood there for a moment, stunned.
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