Read Online THEM (Season 1): Episode 1 by M.D. Massey - Free Book Online

could get their attention, and then draw them off so this asshole could get away. But that crap only worked in the movies and on Scooby Doo —in real life, that was an excellent way to get yourself killed.
    So, plan B. I hoped this individual was possessed of a greater moral fiber than the average Outlands dweller, because if not, I was about to get screwed with a double-barreled zombie cock, and without any lube. One side of the trailer had most of the zombies congregated around there, and thankfully it was the side away from the front deck, which was likely where this unfortunate fool had climbed up to the roof. I moved slowly and quietly around to the side with fewer deadheads, staying within the tree line until I was behind an old junked-out truck that said Gonzalez in faded vinyl letters on the back window.
    I peeked out from behind the truck and counted four zombies on this side of the trailer. It also looked like whoever was on top of the mobile home had seen me, because I saw a watch cap pop up and then back down quickly.
    Time to set this clusterhump in motion , I thought to myself. Grabbing a nice softball-sized rock, I got a little room and heaved it to the other side of the trailer well off into the woods. Soon, I heard the collective moaning of the zombies increase, and could hear the better part of the group tromping off into the woods on the other side of the trailer to investigate. However, three of the four deadheads that were on my side were still milling around. Great.
    I drew my golok in one hand and my combat tomahawk in the other, then came out from behind the truck in a stealthy low run that brought me up behind the first zombie in short order. This one looked like she’d been a large woman in her previous life, as I could see large folds of leathery dead skin hanging off her under the torn and decaying muumuu dress she had on. I buried my battle axe in her head and pulled it back out again before she knew I was there, then carried my momentum forward into the next one.
    This one was a kid, about fifteen or sixteen, wearing a Green Day shirt and ragged skinny jeans over Converse low-tops that had lost a toe cap on the left foot. He’d heard me hit the first one and turned to face me as I approached at a full run. His mohawk had long since lost its ability to stand on end, and the resulting effect now was to make the poor sucker look like he’d gone bald before his time and tried to cover it with a bad comb-over. He half growled and half moaned at me, and despite myself it reminded me of Kara. Enraged at the thought that this thing had made me think of something I cared about at a time when it was the last thing I wanted on my mind, I took his head off with the golok in a clean forehand swing.
    Turning to face the last zombie of the three, I felt more than saw movement on my flank. As I completed the turn, I realized too late that the deadhead was already right on top of me; anything moving that fast was obviously a ghoul. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw and felt it snatch my arm in a death grip while it lunged in to take a bite. For the first time in longer than I could remember I had a twinge of fear, because I knew I was about to be infected. No way I’d go down without a fight, though, and I spun the other direction to plant the tomahawk in the thing’s neck.
    Just was I was expecting to feel its teeth rending the flesh of my arm, I heard a thwap-hiss-thunk and the thing fell away from me in a limp heap. As I completed the spin, I nearly stumbled over it, catching myself in time to see what had happened. Glancing down at the corpse, I saw a short, feathered shaft poking out of its right temple, pinning a trucker cap that said FRESH in seventies-style iron-on lettering to its head.
    I looked up to see a kid of maybe ten or eleven years old balancing a pistol crossbow on the railing of the trailer's front porch. Knowing how inaccurate those things could be, I was grateful that he’d taken the