Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  “What have I become?” she whispered.

  “What you had to,” Terry answered. “You became what we needed to get the most from the survivors. If we have to put Werewolves to work turning wrenches, so be it. You made that happen. And Timmons? We need his mind, desperately. Engineering is probably the most critical trade of the new world. How do you rebuild if you don’t know what you’re doing? You tempered your rage in a way that left us all better off.”

  Terry pulled her hair to the side and kissed her neck, while letting his hands roam free down her body.

  “I am,” she said mysteriously.

  “You quoted Shakespeare, so you couldn’t have been too mad. I would have said something heavily peppered with F-bombs. That’s how you know when I’m angry.

  “I know,” she said as she started to unbutton her shirt, her purple eyes sparkling as the darkness settled.

  ***

  “You’ve done a lot of good work here, Mayor,” Sue said, nodding. “You weren’t a project manager in the before time, were you?”

  Billy laughed out loud. “I was a punk before the fall. I’ve grown up since then, and thank you. I have no doubt that you knew I was a nobody back then.”

  Sue studied the man, rough features, gruff voice. Felicity smiled as she looked away.

  “Behind every great man…” Sue didn’t need to finish her statement as Billy quickly looked toward Felicity. “I’d like to think that we were all somebody back then. There’s so few of us now, but we are challenged with rebuilding the world. A tall order for a bunch of nobodies, but possible for a group of somebodies led by people who believe.”

  The remains of the buns that Felicity had brought sat on the table away from the neatly organized piles of papers and notes. The flowers in the yard hadn’t survived the reception, unfortunately. It smelled dusty instead of fragrant, and it was hot outside.

  “We can’t take the car,” Billy said, having realized that he had no options. They’d finish the year and in the winter, they’d travel the edge of the wasteland, hoping it was cool enough that the trip wouldn’t kill his people.

  My people, he thought.

  Just like Terry Henry Walton, Billy no longer thought of himself first. The car was for Felicity. It was the survival of the others he was concerned about. He wasn’t worried that he’d make it.

  “That God damned Terry Henry Walton,” he blurted out, before putting a hand over his mouth. He stood and walked briskly from his office, out the front door, and stopped in the middle of the street.

  He looked past his home. He saw a thin tendril of smoke rise from the power plant. He could see the top of the first greenhouse. Birds sang somewhere toward the mountains. Despite the heat, there was some snow on the peaks.

  “FUCK!” he yelled, frustrated at having to leave behind everything he’d built, frustrated by how many people counted on him. He sighed. A single sweat bead trailed down the side of his forehead and into his eye. He blinked it away. The heat shimmered as it rose from the crumbling pavement.

  Clyde ran past him and into the brush. Sue let the dog go. No reason to yell at him when he was doing what he loved. Billy took a knee and watched the mutt chase a ground squirrel. Clyde dug like a fiend when the small creature disappeared into a hole in the ground, only to reappear behind him and run in another direction.

  The dog ran after it.

  Unperturbed, Billy thought, using a word that wasn’t his to describe all that he was.

  Billy returned to the others in the doorway, feeling no need to apologize for his language. “Tomorrow, my dear,” he started smoothly, kissing Marcie on her pale forehead, “we’ll take the car and go see everyone, tell them to stock everything they can because we’re moving the town. As soon as Terry and Char tell us where we’re moving to, we’ll hit the road. We’ll take the car as far as we can drive it. Then we’ll walk, just like everyone else, just like Moses, but by God, it better not take forty years to get there.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  When Terry and Char returned to the camp, they found that everyone had eaten their fill.

  “I know what you were doing,” Ted taunted. Terry let it go, shrugging. James offered a thick piece of venison he’d kept warm.

  “Thanks, Corporal James. I appreciate that,” Terry told him.

  “No problem, Colonel. Major?” James asked, holding a chunk of meat that was warm but nearly raw.

  “Corporal.” Char nodded, taking the meat and rolling her eyes as she looked at Lacy and Gerry. “Privates.”

  “Major,” they said in reply. She snickered.

  “Major?” Terry asked.

  “Colonel?” she answered. He narrowed his eyes at her. The others looked away quickly so they wouldn’t start laughing.

  “And so began the complete breakdown of military discipline,” Terry warned.

  “Expectation is the root of all heartache, a quote oft attributed to Shakespeare, but that’s not correct. Its origins are unknown, although it is apropos, don’t you think?” Char asked.

  “Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, shall win my love. Taming of the Shrew, act 4, scene 2.” Terry replied.

  “That’s a good one!” Ted exclaimed. “Taming of the Shrew is one of my favorites. That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long to tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.”

  “Do you know what they’re talking about?” James asked Lacy. She shook her head and held out her hands to show callouses and short nails. She only learned to read because Terry made it mandatory for all members of the Force, and he himself had taught them.

  “Where did you first learn to love Shakespeare, Ted?” Terry asked.

  “Off Broadway. We used to go to all the shows. What I wouldn’t give for a show, followed by a dinner of Oysters Rockefeller, followed by a nice brandy and a cigar.” Ted looked into the distance as he recalled the good old days, when people were ignorant about how hard the world was trying to kill them.

  “James, set up the watch please. Everyone participates, even our two newest recruits.”

  “Oh, good. I was wondering. What is my rank?” Ted asked.

  Timmons looked sad. The belligerence had been wiped from his face. His clothes were in tatters. Terry dug his sewing kit out of the saddle bag and handed it to him. Timmons looked at the stump of a hand.

  “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, man,” Terry apologized, actually feeling sorry for the once proud Werewolf. “I’ll sew it up for you.”

  Timmons shrugged out of his shirt. James and Lacy jumped up to help him. He started to fight them, but decided that he needed the help. He realized that his new life was going to suck if he tried to go it alone. And then it hit him, that was how a real alpha acted. They come down on challengers like a ton of bricks. Just like Marcus had. Just like Timmons was never able to, because he wasn’t an alpha.

  “Thanks, Terry,” he mumbled. Then stood up straight. His once magnificent physique was horribly scarred by the few lashes that Char had delivered. “I’m sorry to all of you for what I’ve done, what I made the alpha do.”

  Char watched him closely, sniffing the air to see if his scent suggested duplicity. She couldn’t tell, but suspected not. For the first time since the pack returned, Timmons seemed sincere.

  “No. I’ll do it,” she told Terry, taking the shirt and sewing kit from him. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. She looked at Terry with her purple eyes, hoping that she was doing the right thing. She hated confrontation.

  Tear them down and then build them back up, Terry thought. He watched Timmons, who appeared to appreciate the help. He was in no condition to challenge the alpha ever again. Char’s approach had been cold and violent, but it allowed everyone a way to move forward on the path that was best for all.

  “Warrant Officer,” Terry said into the silence. “I think you need to be a warrant, Ted. What do you think of that?”

  “Warrant officers were specialists in their fields,” he said as if reading a recruiter�
��s manual. “In the Army, they flew helicopters, among other things, but you were in the Marines. In the Marine Corps, didn’t they refer to warrant officers as gunner?”

  “That’s not something everyone would know, but that’s correct. The first warrants were gunnery officers. We had gunnery sergeants who we call gunny. But the warrant officers were called gunner. It only confused the civilians, not the Marines.” Terry pulled up a seat next to Ted.

  “How’d you know that, Ted?” Terry asked.

  “We had Marines on our ships. They guarded the reactors on the big boys. They had to go to Sea School for their training, Camp Pendleton. That’s where. They were good people, confident, gung ho, and loyal to a fault,” Ted recalled.

  “So you’re a squid? I’ll be God damned. You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a sailor, and here we are, thousands of miles from the nearest ocean.” Terry looked to see if he’d get a rise from Char, but she was lost in her own thoughts as she sewed up slashes in the blood-soaked material.

  “Hey! Do you sense that?” Ted asked, looking at Char. She didn’t answer. “Go to the horses, now!”

  Ted jumped up, ripping his clothes off as he ran and changing into a Werewolf at the edge of the fire’s light.

  ***

  It was evening, and Merrit and Shonna were restless. They stopped by the mayor’s house on the way back to their own.

  “We need to take some tools to the greenhouses. Is there a cart or something we can use?” Merrit asked. Billy looked at Shonna, wondering how Werewolves were so damned beautiful. He figured they should have been hairy and misshapen.

  “Can you drive?” he asked.

  “Sure, I have a lot of miles under my belt,” Merrit said, then pointed to Shonna. “But she has more.”

  “Used to drive truck for a living, for just a little while. Prudhoe Bay to Key West. I’ve driven it all,” Shonna said.

  “Take my car and don’t scratch the paint!” he warned them.

  “Woohoo!” Merrit called as he ran off like a teenager. Shonna thanked Billy and raced away, sprinting to overtake Merrit because she wanted to drive. It had been forever since she last sat behind the wheel. She could smell the exhaust already. She summoned her reserves to quicken her pace.

  ***

  “Okay, fucker! Here’s the deal. The next time that bear cub gets out, I’m shooting it,” Mark grunted as he washed the claw scratches on his leg. His pants were torn and almost ruined and his leg burned from the cub’s dirty claws.

  “I don’t know what happened. I think someone left the gate open!” Blackbeard tried to explain.

  “Bullshit! You keep that nasty beast under control. How in the holy hell is he going to walk all the way to Chicago?”

  “Hank will make it. He’s a trooper, aren’t you, boy?” Blackie called toward the enclosure. The bear cub was huddled in a corner under the overhang from the stable. When he attacked Mark, he’d gotten kicked more than once before Blackie could get him under control.

  “You train him better, or he’s done!” Mark growled before limping back into the house they called the barracks. When he entered, Blackie heard Mrs. Grimes yelling at Mark to wipe his feet and stop bleeding on the floor. Old Mrs. Grimes ran the barracks with an iron fist. The story of how Terry killed the last person that gave her grief was legendary. Only two people were alive who’d witnessed that encounter: Mark, who enjoyed embellishing the story, and Jim, who was usually quiet.

  Mrs. Grimes allowed no backtalk and made sure that everyone got along. Instigators found themselves sleeping in the stable and on their own for the next few meals. She was the cook, the maid, and the sergeant major.

  No one complained because she was good at all three of those tasks. Blackie thought he heard someone get slapped, followed closely by, “I said take those pants off! Let me get a look at that.”

  Blackie stopped listening, ran a few steps, and jumped the fence into the enclosure. He walked carefully to where Hank was curled up, whimpering. He laid next to the bear cub, hugging him. The cub rested his head on the human and looked at him with his big brown eyes.

  “I need you to walk a couple thousand miles with us, Hank. You have to come with us, without complaint, otherwise I’ll have to turn you loose, where you’d die out there, wouldn’t you, buddy? Nope. First thing tomorrow, Hank, we’re going for a run. You and me, no dicking around. Got it?” The grizzly’s expression didn’t change.

  In the distance, a car engine revved.

  ***

  Gerry had tied the horses to a pair of old fence posts. As the horses whinnied and bucked, Terry thought the posts would give way as he ran into the middle of them, grabbing reins and trying to calm them down.

  James, Lacy, and Gerry arrived next, followed by Timmons, who ran with a hitch as he continued to hold his injured arm. Char followed, looking into the distance.

  “What is it, Char?” Terry asked, looking into the night and not seeing anything.

  “Wolves,” Char replied.

  “Werewolves?” Terry was confused.

  “No. Just plain wolves,” she answered, slowing and relaxing. “I think Ted is taking care of them.”

  The sound of snarling and growling came clearly through the warm evening air. They heard the fight, two wolves battling for supremacy. A yip and a cry later, it was all over. They heard the unmistakable howl of a Werewolf.

  Bold and confident he howled, joined by smaller voices, the call of the pack. Ted’s pack.

  The horses continued to prance and whinny. Char shrugged and walked back to their camp. Timmons walked slowly behind her.

  Terry headed into the scrub toward the sounds of the pack. “Ted?” he called.

  “Just a moment, don’t come too close,” Ted called in his human voice. “Let me bring them to you.”

  Terry’s enhanced eyes saw better in the dark than any human, but not as good as a wolf or Werewolf. He felt vulnerable while he waited. He crouched and swiveled his head back and forth, listening for any sound of their approach. Ted appeared pasty white in the darkness.

  Terry forgot that he’d be naked.

  “Hey, Ted, you might want to hold up. You know what they say, it’s all fun and games until you stumble upon a naked man in the dark.”

  “Pish posh,” he called back and continued walking. The shadowy forms of the wolves appeared behind him. One, bigger than the others, limped and its neck hair was caked with blood.

  Ted held out his hands and the wolves stopped. “My pack. Ten of them, the former alpha.” Ted swept his hand back and forth, then stopped and pointed at the injured beast.

  “Clyde opened the door to all this,” Terry lamented. “Ted, tell me what the fuck we’re going to do with a wolf pack?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” Ted replied, standing close to Terry.

  “Would you get some clothes on?” Terry requested. “And how are we going to keep them away from the horses?”

  “I told them to leave the horses alone. Hang on,” Ted said and changed back into Werewolf form. He was shaggy gray too, just like Timmons. He growled and snapped, barked a couple times and ended by touching noses with all of them. Terry looked away when they started sniffing butts.

  All of a sudden, Ted was there and nodding happily to Terry. “They’ll be back in the morning and then we can be on our way.”

  Ted whistled as he walked back toward the fire. He heard Lacy cough and James say, “Come on, man!” as Ted excused himself to get dressed.

  ***

  Shonna gunned it a little more than intended, barking the tires before letting off, then easing the gas pedal back down.

  “Yeehaw!” she yelled as they settled into a smooth twenty-five miles an hour, slowing to take the corners because she saw the shape the tires were in. Old rubber, cracked and ready to give way. She didn’t know if they had any spares.

  But the roar of the engine was exhilarating. Shonna really wanted to stomp it and let the horses run, but the roadster would come apart
. She didn’t want to be that person, so she slowed down, hung an arm out the window, and enjoyed the slow cruise.

  Then she remembered that she forgot the tools. They burned a U-turn and headed toward the power plant. Merrit laughed.

  “Some co-pilot you are!” she yelled over the sound of the straight pipe exhaust. Billy and the mechanic hadn’t bothered to install a muffler.

  Why?

  At the power plant, they found the mechanic, but the engineer had already gone home. He was more than happy to help with the tools, but insisted that he come along.

  “The more the merrier,” Shonna called. Merrit detailed what they would be working on as they found the tools they needed and loaded everything into the small trunk. They had to put the weld machine in the back seat, taking care to brace it with boards so it didn’t rip the fragile upholstery.

  Then they headed out again.

  “This is the second time I’ve ridden in the car,” the mechanic hollered from the back sat. “One test drive and then it was just for Billy to chauffeur his woman around.”

  Shonna and Merrit both nodded. The one working headlight didn’t illuminate much and the pavement was marginal, to say the least. It had decayed over the years. What had been potholes before the fall were car-swallowing craters now. Shonna used her Werewolf vision to its utmost as they slowed further.

  But it beat the hell out of walking and hand-carrying all the tools.

  Merrit smiled and bobbed his head. He wanted more of this. “Do you think Chicago will have what we need?” he yelled.

  “Yes,” Shonna answered, having no idea. She would wait for the return of the alpha, who would make the decision and then they’d do what she said. She wouldn’t risk the pack and it seemed that her mate wouldn’t risk the people of New Boulder. Terry and Char would make the decision that had the greatest chance of success for survival first, and second, the opportunity to improve their lot in life.

  “Char will take us to a better place,” Shonna committed.

  Merrit stopped bobbing and watched the world go by. The mechanic felt like he was on top of the world. He had done no work outside the power plant in a long time. Billy had forbidden it.