“Can’t you take them on your own?” Terry asked.
There was a pause before Mark admitted, “Of course I can, but it’s not about that. It’s about you being the leader we need you to be, the person who’s going to bring civilization back to us. I can take them to New Boulder, but I can’t do the rest of it.” Mark pointed to Terry, “That’s you, bastard,” he said, gaining confidence in being an upstart.
“Fuck me …” Terry hung his head and looked at the ground. Char slapped him on the back while Clyde nuzzled his leg. The people watched, wondering what he was going to do.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The mountain lion wanted the deer as much as Sawyer Brown’s people did. Two men tried to push him away, but he snarled and slashed at their meager walking sticks. He grabbed the carcass and started to drag it backwards away from the offending humans. The people watched, helplessly. One man, Devlin was running from the front of the long, drawn out line of people and another two from the back. The two from the back were closing at an unnatural speed.
Terry Henry Walton and Charumati ran straight for the deer, wondering where Mark had disappeared to after shooting the animal, leaving the poor people from Brownsville to fend for themselves.
Terry stopped at fifty yards away and dropped to a knee. As he aimed his M4 combat rifle, Char continued to run past, heading straight for the mountain lion. She veered out of his line of sight for an instant, all he needed to pull the trigger. The round hit the great creature between the eyes as it released the deer and prepared to fight the werewolf. Char leapt and landed on the thing as it dropped dead.
She growled her dismay at not getting to fight her fellow predator, but, realizing the risk she had taken, quickly relaxed. As far as she knew, her secret of being a Werewolf was safe. She didn’t know that Terry risked hitting her to help her keep that secret.
She stood up and brushed herself off, suggesting they skin the mountain lion and keep the hide. There was always something to be done with such a magnificent pelt.
Terry walked up beside her, “So, you decided that fighting a mountain lion barehanded was your best course of action? Is there any reason to carry pistols if you’re not going to use them?” He asked sarcastically. Sometimes he wondered how hard she was trying to keep her secret.
“Oh, those? I didn’t need those to fight that little thing,” she replied innocently as she pointed to the cat. The others started cleaning the deer, and one man looked proud that he was the one given the opportunity to skin a mountain lion.
When Devlin arrived, out of breath from his run, he was happy that no one got hurt, but miffed at having run all that way for no reason.
Terry looked around, his eyes narrowed. “Where in the hell did Mark go? He should have been here,” he spat out, not at Devlin, but he was angry.
“Squirts,” Devlin answered, keeping his voice low and shrugging. He knew Terry wasn’t mad at him. He turned and then jogged slowly back toward the front of the line leaving the two of them behind.
“Break!” Terry yelled in his Marine voice, projecting well past the running man. The people stopped walking and found places to sit. Devlin looked back, shaking his head as Terry smiled.
Mark finally appeared, looking miserable. There was nothing anyone could do for him. He must have eaten something undercooked or gotten water that was bad. It would pass with enough good water and better food, like the venison they were cutting up.
Terry Henry remained gloomy as they walked north, toward New Boulder. Char stayed by his side and laughed the entire time because he didn’t get his way. Clyde seemed indifferent to it all and was more than happy to feast on mountain lion when the time came. Terry thought it would be inedible, but this was the Wasteland and food was hard to come by.
He asked the man skinning the great cat to butcher it as well. The man did as he was told, keenly stripping the meat and piling it onto the inside of the hide.
Terry told a pair of young men to build a fire to cook their kill. There wasn’t any firewood handy so they conscripted more of the people from Brownsville to search for anything that would burn.
As the refugees returned with bits and pieces of Wasteland scrub, Terry helped the men build a field smoker. He stole a blanket from the travois, hoping it wasn’t someone’s bedroll. It would help contain the smoke and that would preserve the meat long enough that they didn’t have to eat it in one sitting, although they were getting low on food. A total of thirty-six people and twelve horses were headed north on a trip over 100 miles, most of which was through the Wastelands east of Denver.
The Wastelands weren’t as bad as they used to be, some people thought. Terry had lived out there, he knew all about it.
For a while anyway, if you call what he did living.
And he agreed. The climate was changing, getting a little cooler with each year. Terry preferred to think of it as less brutal as opposed to cooler.
Terry stood and walked the line of people, stroking the grazing horses’ necks as he passed. The people waved and greeted him kindly. He shook hands and refused to look at them like the refugees they might feel like they were. Rather, he’d told them that there was work, a new and better life that they could make for themselves.
He hoped Billy Spires saw things that way. Terry decided to ride ahead and make his own luck by preparing Billy and New Boulder for the influx of refugees.
* * *
There was a sudden bang from a kick to the wall. “It’s been three weeks. Those fuckers bailed on us! Son of a bitch. I just started to trust that bastard, too.” Billy delivered his latest tirade while looking out the window, as he had been doing much too often.
Felicity drawled, trying to calm Billy down. “Billy, let’s go to the power plant, see how things are progressing, and then we can go to the greenhouses. We didn’t go yesterday and all that does is drive you deeper into that black pit of yours. Let it go. We will find out in due time. We’ve had no surprises over the past three weeks, have we? Isn’t that something? Think what you want, but I believe that Mr. Terry Henry Walton has been successful in driving the bad men away. They would have returned by now if they could. Pretty soon the weather won’t allow it, will it, Billy dear?”
Billy faced her, frowning, shoulders sagging. “I know you’re right, but I just can’t get past the feeling that I’ve been double-crossed.”
“Billy. Seriously. What has Terry Henry done that would suggest he wouldn’t come back? Mark and those others. You think Ivan would run away? I don’t know about Char, but it doesn’t add up that they’d leave us high and dry. They didn’t take anything of yours. The horses, their rifles, they took those from the others. Sure, Terry has your rifle and pistol, but there wasn’t much ammunition for them, was there?” Felicity argued, saving her best for last. “Don’t forget about his beer!”
She pointed in the direction where it had been fermenting. “If nothing else, he’s a man and that is the only beer that’s been available for the past twenty years. He’ll be back, not for you or me,” she pointed to him then herself, “but for his beer.”
He slowly started to nod, then shrugged his shoulders. Billy didn’t understand why he found that argument compelling, but he did and it put his mind at ease.
Felicity had gone to see Margie Rose and asked that she make Billy a new shirt at the very least. He’d worn that one for six weeks before Felicity threatened to burn it and leave him with nothing.
Billy wore the patchwork shirt that Margie Rose had put together for him, and Felicity had a hard time not shaking her head. She’d created this situation through her hasty actions. She was the one who had to look at it. Even twenty years after, she believed that people could still show a little class, like what she’d done for Char, getting her new clothes, a hairstyle, and makeup after the last battle.
Putting her envy of the tall beauty aside, Felicity determined that killing her with kindness would have to do. That woman was far too dangerous for a cat fight.
Bill
y watched Felicity’s mind work. He wondered what she was thinking about, but shrugged it off and decided that they’d head out, do as she recommended.
They walked downstairs together and out the front door, where the sound of horses trotting on pavement greeted them.
The two looked towards the new arrivals. “What did I tell you?” Felicity beamed.
* * *
Terry, Char, and Clyde left the caravan of travelers behind, riding ahead to find a place for the people to stay and set them up for as quick an integration as possible into what passed for a society in New Boulder. For that, they needed Billy Spires.
They were surprised to see him and Felicity standing outside, as if they had been expected.
“Billy! I think we have some news that you’d like to hear,” Terry said as he and Char climbed off their horses. Clyde greeted his new humans, getting petted by each, before racing off after a rabbit, braying as he trailed the small creature. The four had turned to watch him go.
Billy crossed his arms, saying nothing as he glared at his security chief. Felicity punched him in the back and brushed past to give Terry a hug, that probably lasted too long, before she moved on to hug Char as well.
Billy shook his head and put out his hand.
Terry took it and grinned, giving the mayor an update. “No one hurt on our side, and we have thirty-one people inbound, ready to join us here in New Boulder, and they are ready to work.” Terry stated, pointing to the belt and pistols around Char’s waist. “Sawyer Brown didn’t survive our negotiations, unfortunately. We have twelve horses, rifles, and ammunition. We didn’t find the stash I was looking for, but for our first expedition, I’m not sure we could have done better.”
When Billy let the silence continue for too long, Char asked, “They’ll be here soon. Where can we house them until they can get their own places, integrate into the community?” He looked at her oddly, almost as if he didn’t understand.
His eyes opened wide in recognition, “Well I’ll be God-damned! This whole fucking time I’ve been thinking you weren’t coming back and then here you are. What the hell? We’ve got work to do!” He looked up and down the street, “Fuck! I’ve wasted three weeks. We need to get the people together, see who can open their homes, which homes are habitable, who needs help, make sure we put people where they know what they’re doing. Are there any engineers, mechanics, maybe a doctor in that group?” Billy asked, after finally putting his mayor hat on as he recognized the avalanche of responsibilities that were walking right down the road into his town.
Billy punched Terry in the chest. “I’ll be damned. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Terry Henry Walton. Let’s get these people settled and then let’s talk about what’s next. Son of a bitch! This is going to be a real town again.” Billy was suddenly all smiles as he quivered with excitement.
Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad. Changing his ways from the town bully to the town leader had happened almost without him noticing. Between Felicity and Terry, he knew he had no choice. Sometimes it was easier to go with the flow.
Char leaned conspiratorially toward Felicity. “Lots of nice looking young men in this bunch…” she whispered, slowly licking her lips before laughing at the look on Billy’s face.
* * *
Marcus leaned back, having just gorged on yet another elk. “Have you ever heard of a Werewolf getting fat?” he asked the half-asleep Ted sitting next to him.
Most conversations with Marcus were dangerous. Since before Charumati left, he’d been brooding, but things had only gotten worse. Answers to seemingly innocuous questions were sometimes met with extreme violence. Ted tried to parse his words carefully.
“I have not, unless I was supposed to, then I did, but I can’t remember,” Ted replied.
“What? Why do I waste time asking an idiot like you anything? The answer is no, until now. I think I’m getting fat, but not so much that I can’t kick your ass upside-down and backwards!” Marcus removed his clothes and changed into his werewolf form, a great beast, all black, with yellow eyes glaring at the physical world. He threw his head back and howled, summoning the others to him as his call shook the trees.
Ted scrambled away, changing form as soon as he managed to tear off his shirt and pants. The others howled from their perches around the small valley, then the sounds died away as they ran to join their alpha. Marcus found a rock from which he could look down on the valley, down on the others in the pack.
As they arrived, they howled to their alpha, then sat haphazardly around the area. The males--Ted, Simmons, Adams, and Merrit. The three remaining females--Sue, Xandrie, and Shonna. Two of the females were coming into heat. Marcus wondered which of the others he’d have to fight for them, but he was ready. He kept his pack only strong enough that no one could challenge him. His mate wasn’t there to constrain any challenge he might like to make, as it was an alpha’s right. Many Alpha’s didn’t exercise that right, letting the she-wolves choose their mates, but Marcus had been alone for long enough that he didn’t care about the old ways.
He cared about his way.
“It’s time we return to the foothills, get Char, and go south,” he told them, not inviting discussion. They watched silently, eyes gleaming in the darkness. He missed the purple eyes of his contentious mate, eyes changed by a chance injection of nanocytes into her body before the fall. She healed more quickly than any other Werewolf he knew about, but she had more human tendencies, too.
I shouldn’t have let her go, Marcus thought, but she had left regardless, and that made him angry again. She was in his pack, and she needed to do as he ordered. He wanted her back so he could put her in her place once and for all.
Timmons howled to support his alpha. He had no choice. It was how the game was played.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Char sniffed the air outside the greenhouse. Crisp and clean. Fall was coming. There was a group of five newcomers with them since Billy decided everyone had to work the greenhouses and the fields before they determined where best to put people. Terry committed to learning about the newcomers to ensure the best fit between people and their work. Billy hadn’t considered that a problem right away.
Terry didn’t want the inevitable strife from people doing jobs they hated. Char was indifferent to it all, suggesting they should be happy they had food to eat and a warm place to sleep.
As odd as it sounded, just having food, water, and a warm bed would get old quickly as the lower levels on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs were guaranteed. It was human nature to want more and better. Terry understood it because he was well read, and had intently studied why conflict started, and what could be done to prevent them.
And then there was beer. He saw that as the top rung on the ladder to enlightenment. This was the first time he’d been able to visit Pepe and Maria since he returned from their foray south. He rubbed his hands together and smiled.
“Look at you,” Char said with her hands on her hips and chin up. “All you can think about is your damn beer, isn’t it? It’s like watching a little kid at Christmas.”
He smacked his lips. “No matter how hard you try, you won’t harsh my buzz!” Terry replied, grinning broadly.
Her mouth opened slightly. “Harsh your buzz? What are you, twelve? Don’t answer that. I think you’re trying to recapture the magic of your first beer, and that is when you stopped maturing. It’s like Mecca for you,” she added.
Terry grabbed her without hesitation, picking her up and swinging her around in a circle. She dug her robust fingernails into his neck to let him know that she had enough of his horseplay and ridiculous good mood.
James stood by placidly, watching. He had yet to figure out the relationship between those two. He thought they were married, but then heard they weren’t. They acted like they’d been together forever. When James found out that she arrived a week after Terry, less than two months previously, he was confused.
He had a glimpse of her naked body when she distracted the me
n of Sawyer Brown’s ambush. He thought they were doing it, but they hadn’t been. He wondered how Terry could deny himself such a woman. Maybe one day James would find out, but then he suspected he didn’t want to know the answer.
He dropped her down. “I promised you a beer, James, and through those doors lies the promised land.” Terry waved the group forward as he strode boldly into the greenhouse, where Pepe and Maria greeted them all, stopping the group. Terry looked past the two, but Pepe held out a hand to keep Terry from racing into the back.
“Welcome to our greenhouse...” Maria said, followed by a long list of platitudes as they were happy to have the help. She and Pepe wanted to set the expectations for the group regarding what work needed to be done, how to do it, and what they would get to take with them when they left.
Soon, Pepe and Maria would harvest the wheat, and they would need the help of every person they could find. But the amount of grain would be sufficient to bake bread through the winter.
Pepe and Maria also needed to plant the winter wheat field to give them a harvest in the summer. So much work, but with the new people, next year’s harvest would be the biggest ever. Pepe beamed with joy.
Terry was feeling a lot less love and happiness being held back from his beer.
Terry made a small speech to the group, then turned them over to Maria as she handed out fresh baked rolls with her special cucumber dip. Terry physically pulled Pepe aside. He looked at the shorter man. “Why are you keeping me from my beer?” he growled. “What’s wrong?”
Pepe smiled sheepishly. “It was ready a week ago, based on how you described it. I didn’t want it to go bad, so I bottled it. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I don’t want you to be mad!” Pepe pleaded.
The surprise must have shown on Terry’s face as Pepe winced. Char magically appeared wearing a concerned expression and holding her hands up as if ready to fight.
Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series Page 18