Read @ Joe’s

Title: Them (2026) Author: W.H. Chizmar Publisher: Gallery Books Book jacket: A top-secret government project hits upon a revolutionary idea for transporting matter across the vast reaches of the universe, and it succeeds in bringing something back. Something alive. Soon, mankind’s reign comes to an abrupt halt. Several years later, an unidentified man emerges from the rubble of humanity, seeking other survivors and a shred of hope amid an eerie and lonely landscape. Joe says: Haunting, thoughtful, and refreshingly different.

W.H. Chizmar’s impressive solo debut, Them, is a compelling blend of science fiction and horror that trades explosions for isolation. The monsters may be alien, but the true terror is loneliness, which is truly the most brutal type of horror.

Chizmar imagines a different sort of alien apocalypse. These tripod, razor-taloned aliens dubbed as Scorpions aren’t conquerors. They were specimens. Brought to Earth for study… until they escaped. Then they multiplied. And soon enough, it was not the meek who inherited the earth, but the alien. Rather than heroically following humanity’s last stand, Them narrows its focus to two separate survivors navigating a world where civilization has already lost. Forget resistance movements, laser rifles, and Independence Day heroics. This is a quieter apocalypse, one built on grief, memory, and the crushing realization that no one is left to hear your voice.

This is about contemplation. Regret. Asking forgiveness when there is no one left to answer.

This is survival simply because there is no other choice.

Chizmar’s writing flows from flowery stream of consciousness to acute, hyperaware detailing. His prose can be both beautiful and brutal. And, when it wants to be, genuinely frightening.

Them proves that the end of the world doesn’t have to be loud to be terrifying. And the greatest horror isn’t the Scorpion. It’s the solitude.

The novel sidesteps all those familiar end-of-the-world clichés. There are no cartoonish biker gangs. No conspiracy-fueled militia leaders. No endless parade of trigger-happy survivalists. Instead, Chizmar finds suspense in the ordinary and turns what is usually safe – daylight and water – into objects of terror. Even his detailing of a concussion is rendered with startling authenticity. Once his protagonist formulates a plan, the novel sticks with it, giving his journey a welcome sense of purpose amid the devastation.

That said, the middle of Them occasionally loses momentum. There are stretches of repetitive routines; of nighttime escapes followed by daytime prep. Sometimes the narrative circles familiar ground a few times too often. A tighter edit would’ve kept the tension simmering at a steadier boil. Even so, those quieter passages reinforce the exhausting monotony of survival, making the emotional payoff all the more earned. 

More than an alien invasion story, Them works as a metaphor not about Communism or Consumerism but the fear of insecurity.

For a debut novel, that’s an impressive achievement.

W.H. Chizmar’s Them is haunting, thoughtful, and refreshingly different.

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Thanks to Gallery Books and NetGalley for a cool first look at… Them.