Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

“Who is this slut?” Felicity asked, her words razor-edged. Billy Spires looked to Char, then back to Felicity. Terry found somewhere else to look when Billy glanced his way.

  “Why, Felicity dear,” Billy attempted to drawl, mocking the woman who shared his bed. “This is Charumati, but we can call her Char.” He smiled pleasantly. He thought he could smell Felicity’s ire, which was bizarre as she usually smelled like some flavor of wildflower.

  “Of course we can,” Felicity said, standing on the sidewalk with her arms folded, blocking the way inside. She glared at Char. Terry wondered if the Werewolf was going to burst into flames from the intensity of the look.

  “I’m no threat to you, Felicity,” Char finally said. “I was lost in the woods and when I heard the gunshot, I knew that I’d finally found civilization. So here I am. I’m not horning in on your action, sweetie.”

  Terry couldn’t stop watching. Billy was crushed. He wanted a cat fight.

  “Let’s not be hasty. We’ll sleep on it and then see what the morning brings,” Billy offered.

  “I agree, Billy dear. She’s not staying here. Period.” Felicity remained rock steady, blocking the way to the door.

  “We need to do something with this venison,” Terry suggested, but no one moved.

  “What about you, Terry? Do you have any extra room in your house?” Char asked without taking her eyes from Felicity.

  “What?” he said, caught off guard.

  “The nomad is just like you, showed up from the mountains, not that long ago. He lives with Margie Rose. Yes, I agree. You should stay there. For now,” Billy added

  “What?” Terry repeated. His eyes, for once, darting back and forth between Billy and Char, alarmed. The deer slung across his shoulders forgotten at the moment.

  “That’s settled then,” Billy declared. “Bring that animal into the kitchen so we can prepare it. You take some with you, and I need to send some to the power plant for the engineer and the mechanic.”

  “What?” Terry said for the third time. Billy had just put a Werewolf in his home. His mind raced, trying to remember everything he knew about Werewolves which was summed up as…

  They were dangerous.

  Felicity walked coldly past Billy Spires, glaring at him along the way. She took Terry’s arm and led him around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance. It wouldn’t do to drip blood through the house. That wouldn’t do at all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sawyer Brown looked at the rough men in his charge. He had twenty-three soldiers total, but for this, he was only going to take eight. Ever since he’d gotten word about a settlement to the north, he’d wanted to go there, but hadn’t been able to before now. With the latest raid into Kansas, he’d discovered horses and brought them back to his enclave south of Denver.

  Sawyer called himself General of the Army of the Rockies. He loved civil war history and considered the fall to be a second round in the north versus the south.

  He never knew that the nukes that fell weren’t from the United States and the destruction wasn’t self-induced. He didn’t care about any of that, because he was somebody, and had been ever since the fall.

  Because the biggest and strongest survived. And that was him.

  Sawyer had been in his prime, a man twenty years old, when the end came. A construction worker since his early teens, he moved materials through brute force. At six and a half feet tall, he towered over his co-workers and after the fall, he towered over the other survivors. He took what he wanted, gathered minions to serve him, and turned them into the ultimate scavengers.

  They were set to become the ultimate raiders, too. He was on his way to building an unstoppable army, but the more he wanted to project his power, the more he feared that people would take what he had gathered. That was why he decided to leave so many men behind.

  He needed to protect his treasure, and that was how he thought of it.

  In this new world, people like him had come out on top. Sawyer wasn’t the man’s real name. He liked the band and after the fall, names didn’t mean anything anymore. His old persona disappeared and he became Sawyer Brown, a man larger than life.

  “Get the fuck in here!” he yelled from the couch in the cabin he called home. He cared little about the fineries of society. Power didn’t require them. Plus, it gave him a certain amount of pleasure to have his people wait outside. He’d call them on occasion to recognize that they existed, but they were all second class citizens. No one mattered but him.

  Three men rolled through the door, trying to act cool in the rush to please their master.

  “How are those saddles coming?” he demanded. The room smelled of sweat and it was dark, because Sawyer liked to keep his men at a disadvantage. They entered from the daylight and could barely see.

  “Slower than we thought, boss, but we’ve got too many lazy bastards around here,” the first man said defensively, knowing how quickly pain would follow the delivery of bad news.

  Sawyer slammed a meaty fist on his table and then used the same hand to point at them. “Well, get back out there and help! I want those saddles or you stupid fuckers will find yourselves riding bareback. You get me, dumbass?”

  “Yes, sir!” the man declared and bolted from the cabin, followed closely by the other two.

  “What do you think, Clyde?” Sawyer asked the mutt curled up on a blanket on the floor.

  The dog didn’t answer.

  “I don’t give a shit if they’re uncomfortable riding bareback, but they won’t be able to keep up and that matters. I guess we wait another day to go north, see what the good people near Boulder have to say about coming under our protection. Why haven’t we found them before now, Clyde? Denver is still a little hot. Yeah. It’s like a big, ruined moat. But the horses, Clyde, the horses will help us grow the empire! You don’t like the horses, do you buddy?”

  The dog snuffled, watching his master to see if a treat appeared. It didn’t so the dog went back to sleep.

  Sawyer leaned back in his chair, his hands together behind his head. “Wait until those stupid fuckers up there get a load of me!” He sneered, dreaming greedily of the plunder.

  * * *

  “I’m home Margie Rose and—” Terry paused. “I have company,” he finally finished. The older woman had been in the kitchen, evidenced by wiping her hands on her apron as she entered the living room.

  “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “I think you are the most beautiful woman these old eyes have ever seen. And you, my beautiful man! What a wonderful couple you make.”

  “Whoa!” Terry belted out. Char stole a glance at Terry’s face and giggled. She walked elegantly across the room and embraced Margie Rose.

  “Is there any way I can stay here tonight? I’ve heard such wonderful things about you,” Char purred. Margie looked at Terry, her eyes twinkling and a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. Terry vigorously shook his head and pointed in the direction of the third bedroom. Margie Rose sighed, not yet giving up on her dreams of being a matchmaker.

  “Let me show you to the spare room, dear. What should I call you?” she asked warmly.

  “My name is Charumati. It’s sanskrit and means intelligent, wise, and a beautiful lady. It is quite a mouthful and my parents blessed me with it. I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to that ideal and I love it. My parents meant the world to me. Call me Char, and that’s enough about me. Let’s hear about you, Margie Rose. Tell me your story,” Char implored, holding onto the older woman’s arm.

  Margie glowed and Terry shook his head, wondering what kind of chaos the Werewolf was going to create. What was her game? Nothing good can come from this, he told himself, mumbling aloud.

  “Where are your things, dear?” Margie finally noticed that Char had nothing. The young woman held up her hands and shrugged.

  “I was lost on the mountain and fell. This is all I have.” she said, frowning dramatically.

  Margie turned and pointed. “You march right back to those woods
and find her stuff, mister!” she ordered. Terry looked from one face to another, while Char smiled at his confusion.

  Maybe we can just ask her to turn into a Werewolf where she doesn’t need any stuff, Terry thought. Before he could come up with a reply that he could actually say out loud, Char came to his rescue.

  “There really is nothing. It’s refreshing to start over. I’m handy with a needle and thread. Do you possibly have anything I might be able to work with?” she begged the old woman.

  Terry was happy to see the two disappear into Margie Rose’s bedroom. Margie was chattering the whole time.

  The daughter you never had. Terry went to the kitchen and started slicing the shank of deer into steaks. He wondered how Werewolves liked their meat.

  Raw?

  Goddammit! How did I get stuck living with a fucking Werewolf! FUCK! he screamed internally.

  If she discovered that he knew, his life would be forfeit. In a straight up fight, he was pitifully aware he couldn’t beat a Werewolf. If he could bring his firepower to bear, that would even things up.

  He could never be apart from his weapons, not that he was anyway, but even behind a locked door, he would have to sleep with the rifle at his side and his pistol under his pillow. Maybe I’ll move to the barracks, he thought, but I can’t leave Margie Rose alone with her.

  Fuck!

  Terry yelled a disjointed good-bye as he headed out the door, determined to go to the barracks after first stopping by to ask Billy about the weapons.

  * * *

  “Why in the hell did you bring that whore here? What the hell, Billy?” Felicity raged, stomping around the kitchen. Billy was butchering the deer and avoiding any part of this conversation. He expected to get a huge boost to his ego when he saw those two beauties fighting over him, but one had no interest at all and now all of the other’s anger was focused solely on him.

  She worked her way close to him, ignoring the fact that he was wielding a bloody knife. “Billy, you need to understand this about our relationship. It doesn’t end because you think you’ve found another woman. It ends when I find someone else or you’re dead,” she said coldly, switching quickly to her warm southern drawl. “Is that clear enough, Billy dear? Maybe you can massage my feet later, but make no mistake, my lover, you are still in the doghouse.”

  Billy leaned over to kiss her forehead, but she walked away, swinging her hips to tease him. “Nice venison steaks for dinner and I’d like you to go with me when I take a bit to the engineer and the mechanic,” Billy offered by way of asking, as a start to an uncomfortable truce.

  He finished his work on the venison, putting most of it in their refrigerator, a benefit of being the mayor. He went looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. He debated going without her and when he finally decided to leave, he smelled smoke. He went out back to find Felicity burning a pile of clothes.

  His clothes.

  “For Christ’s sake, Felicity!” He watched the flames lick across the material, burning easily as it went. She didn’t respond as she used an old shovel to stir the clothing within the fire, ensuring a complete burn. He sat down and waited. Leaving Felicity alone would probably not be in his best interest.

  Terry didn’t bother knocking when he saw the small tendril of smoke coming from the back of Billy’s house. He ran around the corner and pulled up when he saw that it wasn’t the house that was on fire. Billy looked at him and waved him over. Felicity smiled and continued to stir.

  “Are those your…” Terry didn’t need to elaborate.

  “Yup.” Billy watched stoically, not looking at his security chief.

  Terry decided to dig right in. “I need rifles for my boys because I want to take them on a search and recovery for a stock of weapons and ammunition. There are a number of military bases around Colorado Springs. We’ll go there and we’ll find something. I know military, and I have no doubt that they hid bunkers of gear after the fall to keep the weapons out of the hands of looters. We just need to find them. We need weapons to find more weapons, because it’s a dangerous world out there.”

  Billy didn’t respond right away. “How many more people do you think are out there, Terry?” he finally asked.

  Terry thought about that for a moment before answering, “I think there’s more than we know. People like us—” He nodded to Billy. “—who survived it all and keep surviving. New families, strong men. I don’t think anyone has power, though. We could grow, Billy. This small town can become a city,” Terry suggested.

  “My thoughts exactly. Horses?” Billy asked, watching his clothes go up in flames, Felicity moving one of the shirt’s back into the fire.

  “Five, for now, but Ivan might not cut the mustard. We may have to kill him,” Terry said matter-of-factly.

  “I’d ask that you don’t. Do what you can to get him to see the light. I’d hate to see my brother get himself killed.”

  Terry wondered if he meant a fraternity brother, brother-in-arms, or something like that. There was no resemblance at all. The two could not have been more different.

  “I’ll do what I can for him. Five horses then, and we’ll train with them for a while before we head out. It’ll probably take us a couple weeks to make the run, maybe longer.”

  Billy nodded slowly, stood, and waved for Terry to follow. Once inside, Billy opened the weapons closet and showed Terry everything he had. There were two more M16s, the older style. There were four total boxes of ammunition for them and a .38 with six cartridges in the cylinder and six more in a small bag. Billy offered it all. Terry took the two rifles, one box of ammunition, and the pistol. Billy put a hand protectively on the AK-74, which Terry had no designs on.

  They went back outside where Felicity was finishing up. The flames were out as the ash pile continued to smolder, sending up great clouds of smoke. Felicity put the shovel aside and held her head high as she strutted past the two men, reeking of smoke.

  “Let me freshen up, Billy dear, and then we can go,” she said with a smile. Billy nodded briefly, his lips white from clenching his jaw. Terry looked closely at the smaller man, trying to come up with something to say.

  “I got nothing, Billy,” was what he finally settled on.

  “Don’t I know that,” Billy replied. Terry snickered before he was able to stifle it with a cough, and excusing himself, he turned and walked away.

  The barracks was less than a half-hour’s walk from there. A walk he made briskly, trying to put as much distance between the new discordance of his adopted town.

  He hoped that time would settle things down, and that the Werewolf would simply remain in human form. He didn’t like hope as a plan. Actually, it made for a lousy plan, but none of that was within his control. The weapons he carried were.

  His men would be armed with the best available. The ammunition for the rifles looked clean. The .38 shells looked sketchy. He’d give that to Jim. If the pistol blew up, he was most likely to survive, although the big man would probably forget that he carried the pistol, preferring a club instead.

  Terry had been practicing with his bullwhip and found out that he liked it more and more. His heightened abilities made it possible to snap the whip as quickly as someone could draw a pistol. The tip of the whip easily exceeded the speed of sound, cracking through the air as it raced to its target.

  Still, he had no intention of giving up his .45. He knew that he would always carry multiple weapons, because it was his way. One never discovered where the enemy was weakest until the last second, and at that point, there was no time to waste.

  When Terry pulled the roughly repaired door aside, he found his boys eating dinner. Mrs. Grimes had just cuffed Ivan on the side of his head. He jumped up to threaten the old lady, but Jim grabbed him and bodily slammed him back into his chair.

  Terry casually walked into the kitchen, around the table, and grabbed a handful of Ivan’s hair, viciously yanking his head back. “Listen, Smashmouth, if you ever do that again to the good Mrs. Grimes, I
will have to renege on my promise to Billy to keep you alive. Do you understand me? Keep in mind that just being alive doesn’t mean pain-free. You shall suffer mightily. Now nod your head that you understand and finish your dinner. We have training in ten. No, make that five.”

  Terry pulled Mrs. Grimes into a hug and kissed her forehead. She slapped his knuckles with a wood spoon. Terry let her go. No one was safe around the gentle soul that was Mrs. Grimes. Maybe he’d take her with them instead of Ivan.

  Or Char, just to keep an eye on their new resident Werewolf.

  Once the men finished their dinner, Jim seized Ivan by the shoulders and dragged him from the house. He hadn’t finished, but that was part of learning discipline. It was his first day, but Terry didn’t cut him any slack. He made the four men sit down in a semicircle as he explained the M16 and its inner workings. He then covered, in nauseating detail, how to clean the rifle. Ivan grew bored quickly, so Terry took to kicking him in the leg every time his attention drifted.

  He handed the rifles to the men and told them to disassemble them. After much yelling and prodding, both rifles were taken apart and put back together. It had been so long, and he had little patience for new recruit antics.

  He told them to do it three more times, while he went back inside to see if Mrs. Grimes had anything left over, which she didn’t but since Terry had arrived in town, her pantry had become well-stocked. She put together a quick salad using some of her homemade vinegar-based dressing, flavored with basil and rosemary.

  It had some bite to it, and that made it all the more unique. Making vinegar is a drawn out and painful process. That made Mrs. Grimes a goddess in Terry’s book.

  She brought back a small, but significant piece of the old world.

  He recommitted to brewing the town’s first batch of beer to give them something else from the before time. Something that would make them crave more of civilization. Terry wasn’t big on beer before the fall, but afterward, he craved it, almost embarrassingly so. Finally, he could do something about it.

  The boys burst through the door to let him know they’d accomplished the task. They wondered when they’d be able to fire the rifles. Terry wasn’t sure, but at a minimum, he required each of them to disassemble and reassemble the rifle in thirty seconds, then they could move to the next level of marksmanship training.