Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  Margie Rose may have been dismayed that her adopted daughter was a Werewolf, and possibly a man-killer. Terry had no way of knowing that she wasn’t the one who had half-eaten the hunter he found in the mountains. She was in the pack that did it, but how many were there? And where were they?

  He shook his head and pursed his lips. Too many questions and the person with the answers couldn’t know that he knew her secret. The not knowing would chap his ass, but winning her over to his side would be a step in the right direction. Selfishly, he needed her speed and strength. He only had four people and none of them would survive in combat with a determined enemy.

  He resigned himself to the fact that one of his recruits was a Werewolf. At least with her, he wouldn’t need to train anyone in combat medicine. He’d read the full book. It was fascinating and although he wanted to try some of the surgical techniques within, he figured it was best not to slice people open. He practiced whenever he gutted a deer.

  He figured it was close enough for government work.

  When he and Char left the house, he set the initial pace, but she inched ahead, increasing her speed a little at a time until they were almost sprinting when they arrived at the barracks. His chest heaved and he sucked in great quantities of air while she barely breathed hard. The four men quickly exited the building and stopped when they saw Terry’s company.

  Then the preening began as they postured to get a better look at the tall, beautiful woman standing before them.

  “Get in formation!” Terry yelled. They lined up and stood tall, but couldn’t keep from darting glances her way. “You, too!” he growled at Char. She ran to the end, going in front of each man instead of behind. Terry wanted to grab her by the throat. “Eyes front, gentlemen,” he told them in an even tone.

  “Which one of you is the best in hand-to-hand combat?” Terry asked, deciding he needed to make his point early. The others looked at the big man, Jim. He raised his hand sheepishly. “Get out here.”

  Jim walked forward, cracking his knuckles and stretching. He assumed a fighting pose and warily watched Terry, who had kicked Jim’s ass upside and backwards on every occasion.

  “Oh no. Not me. Her.” He pointed with his thumb. “Get out here and square off.” Jim relaxed, and Terry was instantly in the big man’s face.

  “You better get your wits about you if you don’t want to die. Do you understand me? She’s faster than you, and she’s stronger than you. She’s better than you. I give you five seconds and you’ll be on the ground wondering what happened,” Terry spit at Jim and walked away in feigned disgust.

  Char strolled out of formation and assumed a loose fighting position. “Let me introduce you to Private Charumati, called Char. You will treat her as you treat anyone in the FDG, with respect and professionalism. Anything else will result in what you are about to witness.”

  Jim crouched lower, unsure of the reason for the ominous buildup. He took a cautious step forward, then another. She backed up a step. Jim instantly grew overconfident and waded into battle.

  When he reached out to grab her, she charged forward, caught his arm in one hand, and seized him by the throat with the other. She picked him off the ground and continued moving forward, carrying him backward until she body slammed him in the grass. He grunted. For good measure, she punched him in the mouth, just a quick jab, but enough to split his lip and send blood splattering over his face.

  She bowed and casually walked back to the end of the line. No one watched her pass this time. They were still looking at Jim, lying on the ground and moaning.

  “Gentlemen, that’s what pure power looks like. It is more important than strength. Did you see how she used leverage to overwhelm her larger opponent? Did you see her speed? Jim was distracted by the way she looks. Don’t be. When you face an opponent, all you need to see are strengths and weaknesses. Devlin, get out here, you’re next. Char?”

  The Werewolf stepped back onto the sparse grass and dandelions that made up the front yard of the barracks. They’d done enough calisthenics on the ad hoc lawn to keep it crushed down, but it still provided more cushion than some of the desertscape of the area. It was an odd mix of ground coverings in New Boulder.

  Devlin moved cautiously, hands up defensively, afraid as he could only stare at Char’s purple eyes. Terry jumped in between the two and stopped the bout. Char was working some Werewolf trick on Devlin and Terry wouldn’t have it. He pointed at her and waved his finger back and forth. “Now be ready!” he barked at Devlin. The young man shook the cobwebs out of his brain, gritted his teeth, and clenched his fists.

  Terry stepped away and turned them loose. Without hesitation, Char bolted forward, faking low, stopping instantly, and jumping straight in the air. She spun and delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of Devlin’s head.

  When he woke up, he couldn’t remember anything besides seeing her start to run at him. The rest was a gray haze.

  Ivan looked shocked and terrified while Mark held up his hands in surrender.

  “I think we’ll call those lessons learned. Grab your gear. We’re going to the rifle range. Get up, you idiots,” Terry yelled at the two men weaving as they sat in the grass.

  * * *

  “Billy, I declare, you are a new man!” Felicity drawled seductively as she snipped his hair with a freshly sharpened pair of scissors, cleaning up his raggedy mane. He never thought about his hair or how it made him look, but Felicity insisted, which seemed to be more and more of his life lately. But he begrudgingly admitted that his life was getting better with each day. He was eating better, feeling better, and as much as he liked a good beat down, he was good with not delivering one. He’d lost his best crew because of Terry Henry Walton. Now they were shaping up to be a military force.

  “Hey, let’s go visit the FDG,” Billy suggested. Felicity put the scissors down and carefully removed the apron around Billy’s shoulders. She then straddled his lap and looked at him closely.

  “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, Billy dear. This is going to be the first of the great towns in a new country and you, Billy dear, are going to run them all. It’s what you were born to do.” She held his gaze and finally stepped back, pulling him to his feet.

  “Maybe I was,” he conceded. “We shall see.”

  They drank plenty of water before leaving the house. It was a hot summer, but nothing worse than usual. They felt like the temperatures had cooled, but no one kept track of that stuff anymore. Maybe they were getting used to it. The farmers seemed to have adjusted the quickest by using irrigation, water misters, and a ventilation system to cool the greenhouses in the summers. Without those, everything would be scorched, wilt, and die.

  Electricity and powered fans would further improve the cooling capacity of the greenhouses and delivery of water.

  Dammit! Billy thought. Look what I’ve become, a city planner, a bureaucrat.

  Dammit to hell!

  “Terry Henry had it right. He wanted to be the security chief because he wouldn’t be trapped in an office doing office stuff, thinking office things,” Billy told Felicity. She nodded knowingly. “He said he needed me. I thought he was smart, but the man is a damned genius. No one in their right mind would want this job.”

  He laughed as he headed out, walking fast, because that’s just what they did. Billy had not had good luck with horses, although Felicity was trying to get him to reconsider. She did not like walking.

  As they walked, she skipped on occasion to keep up. It was only a mile, but Billy seemed determined to make it to the barracks in fifteen minutes. Five minutes in, they saw the small formation running on a hillside not far away. They turned toward the hills and ran into the distance.

  “Was there five people besides Walton?” Billy asked. Felicity shrugged. She’d seen, and she recognized that last person in line. It did not bring her comfort and joy.

  Char had joined the boys.

  * * *

  Sawyer Brown woke up in a foul mood. The bed was
too soft and his back hurt. His seat was still sore from the saddle and he was hungry.

  “Smeghead!” he howled out the door as he let Clyde out to run around the dirt and scrub. Sawyer had planned on getting up in the middle of the night so he could catch his boys sleeping, but he didn’t make it. It was already morning and not even early morning, judging by the sun’s position in the eastern sky.

  The man affectionately known as “Smeghead” ran to the door.

  “Morning! What’s up, boss?” the man asked, trying to be pleasant, but prepared for an ass-kicking if that was what Sawyer Brown determined the man needed.

  “Get me some chow and then saddle the horses. We’re moving out. How come nobody woke me?” he bellowed, a rhetorical question as he’d almost killed a man once who had woken him, on Sawyer’s own orders. He was not a morning person.

  The men had killed a couple rabbits during the night and they were cooking over a small fire. Smeghead looked back forlornly. One to the boss and one for the other eight men. Same as usual. He couldn’t wait to get into town and find real food, maybe even someone to cook it.

  He ran off to grab the mostly cooked rabbit, assuming that speed took precedence over quality.

  He brought the skewer with the rabbit back, holding it high over his head because Clyde wanted some of that action and was jumping after it. Smeghead couldn’t get rid of the rabbit quickly enough. If he lost that one to the dog, then the men would go hungry. It would not have been the first time.

  Sawyer took the rabbit and grunted, holding Clyde outside with a foot as he closed the door, so he could eat it in peace.

  “Saddle the horses!” the man yelled to the others and watched Clyde bolt past him on his way to the fire. “And stop that dog!”

  * * *

  The walk became longer than Billy expected, but the air was clear and it was shaping up to be a nice day. Felicity stopped complaining and seemed to be enjoying the walk as well.

  “What was this place, Billy dear?” she asked, genuinely interested after having lived there for a year.

  “This was the suburbs of Boulder in what used to be the state of Colorado. You know, we could smoke weed back then, legally. Now that there are no laws, no one cares. Man, what I wouldn’t give for a joint right now. The stuff has to grow wild somewhere around here, doesn’t it?”

  “A joint? What are you, twelve? Billy dear, we’re not going to look for any magical weeds that you can smoke. I will not have the house smelling like burnt weeds!” Felicity stated, putting her foot down.

  Billy laughed.

  “Weed, not weeds. It leaves an earthy smell that I think you’d like. I’ll keep my eye out, see if any of it is still around,” Billy said hopefully. Felicity set her mouth and shook her head vigorously. “Or not,” he added after her display.

  He still kept his eyes peeled.

  The small formation had disappeared around a bend that led to a cut in the hillside. Billy wasn’t sure what they would be doing there, but figured he’d find out soon enough.

  As they reached the junction, he could hear Terry yelling and the men yelling back. One female voice was almost drowned out in the chorus. Billy had been walking fast, but this encouraged him to walk even faster. Felicity jogged to keep pace. Before they could see the security team, they heard the sound of rifle fire. Too many cracks. Were they using up all their ammunition?

  Billy broke into a sprint, but slid to a stop as soon as he saw. Mark and Devlin aimed their rifles at a spot on the hill. Terry cracked his whip over their heads as they practiced firing without flinching. Billy and Felicity watched as the others held aiming poses, but without weapons.

  Terry stopped when he saw the intruders.

  “Up!” he yelled. They responded with “yes, sir” and assumed a position of attention, even Char.

  Billy walked with a swagger until Felicity grabbed his arm, digging her nails deeply into his flesh. The exchange was not lost on Terry. She’s a Werewolf, dickhead, Terry thought, laughing inside as Billy couldn’t help himself.

  “Firearms training. I see. Is that for when you have more ammunition?” Billy asked.

  “Indeed,” Terry replied cautiously. The mayor’s conversation was going somewhere and Terry couldn’t fathom that it led anywhere good.

  “Maybe your training time would be more beneficial if you practiced with what you do have and not with what you might have,” Billy demeaned, impressing his position of self-proclaimed superiority.

  Terry only looked at him, not countering Billy in front of the others, but not supporting him either. Billy squinted, ready for a retort, but Char spoke up first.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing. Black oily smoke boiled in the distance, but not too far away. Terry ran toward a small hill that blocked the source of the fire and raced upward. Billy and Char were close on his heels.

  Once there, he tried to find the best vantage point to look between the trees. He couldn’t tell for sure, as the fire was miles away. “Char, look through here. What do you see?” Her Werewolf eyes were better than his. Billy’s natural human eyes paled in comparison to the other two.

  “A small cabin is burning close to what used to be the highway. I see people on horses, riding this way,” she said.

  “How can you see all that?” Billy asked. Terry ignored him as he bolted. Char took off running as well, leaving Billy on the hillside, squinting into the distance.

  “Listen up!” Terry ordered. “We have men on horseback. They just burned a cabin on the edge of town. The only thing between them and our people is us. We have buildings to protect and people to defend. I’ll think about our deployment as we head in. But we have to go, now, if we are to beat them into position. In formation!” Terry yelled. As soon as they were standing tall, he took off running. They followed without question.

  Ivan started to breathe heavily before they’d run the first one hundred yards, so Terry slowed, then pulled him out of their small formation. “Go with Billy and Felicity, protect them. Make sure they get back home. Billy needs to load up and be ready. Now, go!” Terry slapped him on the back and sent the man away. He wasn’t ready for a fight. At least the others could probably hold their own, although Terry didn’t consider them to be ready either.

  They took off running again, and Devlin set the pace. Terry drifted back until he was even with Char, where he whispered so only she could hear.

  “I’ll place them in a position to protect us if we get overrun, but you and I will meet them head on. You good with that?”

  “Yeah. They won’t know what hit them,” she whispered back.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Terry replied.

  He told Devlin to maintain the pace as Terry ran ahead, then dove left, onto a small rise where he could get a better look at their situation. Nine people on horses, maybe a mile away, were heading up the main road, bunched up as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Terry sprinted off the hill and directed Devlin to set up on the right flank behind a small wall of rocks. Terry gave him ten rounds of ammunition in one magazine.

  He put Jim with his pistol on the main road, behind an old rusted hulk that had been a pickup truck.

  Terry told Mark to head another quarter mile perpendicular to the newcomers’ avenue of approach and protect the left flank. He gave him a magazine with ten rounds. “If you shoot, make every shot count. Sight alignment. Sight picture. Breathe out and squeeze. Go.” Mark ran off.

  Char stayed with Terry. “Do you want a knife or something?” he asked.

  “Nope. I’m good,” she replied. He thought he saw fire in her eyes, but it was only for a moment. If she needed to change into a Werewolf during the fight, he wouldn’t begrudge her that. Whatever it took. This was the deadly serious part of being the security chief. Winning was all that mattered. The only fair fight is the one you lose.

  He nodded and started walking down the road toward the incoming mob.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Boss,” Harold
called. Once Sawyer turned toward him, the man pointed ahead. A man and a woman were walking toward them on the road.

  Sawyer Brown watched for a moment. “He’s armed. Spread out, you idiots,” he called. The ditches along the side of the road were filled with debris. Broken down fences blocked most of the way out of the ditch. Two men went left, picking their way through until they were beyond and in a relatively open area. They rode ahead quickly until they were abreast the two people Two men went to the right, but they couldn’t get through. They settled for riding as close to the ditch as possible.

  Sawyer gave up and spurred his horse forward until he was right behind Harold and Smeghead, ensuring they shielded him in case any shooting started. The man and woman finally stopped walking. The man’s rifle was slung differently than what Sawyer was used to seeing. It hung under his arm, casually, yet ready to fire. He wore other gear that made him look like a soldier from days past. Sawyer called his men to a halt.

  The woman was striking and once Sawyer saw her, everything else he’d been thinking about disappeared. He was close enough to see her purple eyes and brown hair, the silver streak on one side. She was tall and shapely. She carried nothing, and like the man, she stood easy, confident, unconcerned about the armed and dangerous men before her.

  “Ho there, friend,” Sawyer called. The two didn’t move. The woman looked to her right where two horses with Sawyer’s riders stood still, watching from the side. “I said, ho, friend.” Sawyer repeated, as he slowly removed one pistol from its holster.

  * * *

  “What business do you have here?” Terry Henry asked, all the while assessing the enemy. He’d seen the big man loosen his pistol and then hold it in his lap. He also noted how the big man positioned himself behind the two in the lead. A bully. A coward. You die first, fucker, Terry thought.

  “We are looking to trade, that’s all, friend. Who am I talking with?” the man offered, but he wasn’t convincing as a trader. “Shut up, Clyde!” the big man added as the dog on the road barked and growled, keeping his attention fixed solely on Charumati.