Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  “Fish,” Terry said longingly. He took a blanket from his pack and headed for the stream.

  “Sunbathing, TH?” Char asked, following him.

  “Fishing,” he replied.

  “Don’t you dare get that blanket wet! I sleep on it, too, you know.” She put her hands on her hips and watched him go. He knew all too well that she slept on it with him. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  When he reached the bank of the stream, he laid the blanket out, pulled his knife, and cut down three willow branches. He sat on the blanket as he peeled away the bark and then started working at one end, carefully splitting the branch in half and carving a reverse notch in each inner side of the split. His intent was to use it as a spear that trapped the fish in the middle of the notch.

  That was the plan anyway.

  Char stretched out on the blanket, tying her shirt to expose her rock hard abs. She stretched her long legs out and reclined. “Catch some for me, too, lover,” she called.

  “The first one’s for you,” he called as he carefully stepped into the stream. His enhanced vision cut the glare in a way that revealed the fish beneath the surface. He waited with spear raised and less than twenty seconds into his fishing excursion, he hauled the first rainbow trout out of the water and tossed it ashore.

  Char watched it flop as it worked its way back toward the stream.

  “Kill it!” Terry called. Char closed her eyes, sighed, and leaned back. Terry splashed ashore and slapped the rainbow onto a rock. He returned to his hole, hoping that his splashing hadn’t chased the fish away. It did, but they quickly returned. Terry stopped after spearing an even dozen.

  He made quick work of cleaning them. Not having scales, they were easily prepared for the fry pan with three cuts and a scoop.

  Gerry and Lacy were brushing the horses. James was nowhere to be seen. Ted had changed into his Were form and was splashing around in the stream with the pack. He looked like a father with his children. The wolves weren’t small, but the Werewolf was easily double their size.

  Timmons sat in the grass not far behind Char.

  “Would you like to try it?” Terry asked, holding his fish spear out for Timmons to see. The man held up the stump of his hand. “You only need one hand for this. Come on.”

  Timmons reluctantly agreed. As a Werewolf, Timmons was a natural predator. It went without saying that he would be good at any task that involved prey. He waded slowly into the water and waited. The stream gurgled and sparkled under the afternoon sun.

  Char was sound asleep with the relaxation brought on by the serenity of the park and stream.

  Timmons jabbed the spear into the water and pulled it back quickly, then spun it to send the wriggling trout flying through the air. It slapped into the ground where it flopped until Terry captured it and killed it. He sliced it up and tossed the head and guts into the stream.

  Seven more times Timmons jabbed his spear into the water and seven more fish were tossed ashore.

  For the first time since Terry met him, Timmons looked happy. He stepped carefully on the slippery rocks as he worked his way from the stream. He gave Terry his spear back, undressed, and then changed into Were form. He proceeded to devour the eight fish he’d caught, bones and all.

  “Damn, brother, how hungry were you?” The Werewolf didn’t answer. He belched. Terry could have sworn a green cloud spewed from Timmons’s wolf mouth.

  Timmons changed back into human form and belched again.

  “Dude!” Terry cried out.

  Timmons’s expression turned serious and he looked toward the town. “People,” he said in a low voice.

  ***

  “You have to find him!” Felicity yelled as she ran out the front door. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She held Marcie in her arms, but was waving the baby as she tried to point in three different directions at once.

  “Billy Spires?” Mark asked. Felicity nodded vigorously.

  “He’s been gone for a whole day!” She broke down and started sobbing again.

  Mark didn’t do well around crying women. He tried to comfort her, but she shrugged him off. “Well?” she demanded.

  “Where’d he go?” Mark wondered.

  “If I knew that, he wouldn’t be lost!” Felicity yelled, changing instantly from a crying woman to a hair-on-fire hellion.

  “Which way did he go and when?” Mark asked, holding his hands out as he tried to calm the young woman.

  “I have a baby! I’m not ready to be the mayor yet. Damn you, Billy Spires!” she screamed toward the hills. Mark took that to mean that he went that way. Mark thought he understood why Billy would run from such a beautiful woman. It was all Mark wanted to do at that moment in time.

  “I’m on it, ma’am.” Mark came to attention, saluted crisply, and ran off, happy to do something other than get yelled at. He ran to the greenhouses and pulled half the platoon.

  Blackie and Hank joined them, as well as Jim and half of his squad. They left David in charge of those left behind as they double-timed down the road leading to the hills. They all had their rifles, since they always carried them. They had their knives and extra ammunition. And some even had a little food.

  Hank jogged along, got distracted and ran off, then remembered what he’d been doing and raced to catch up. Blackie let him go. The grizzly had to either keep up or fend for himself.

  Blackbeard wanted him to come along, but learned that he couldn’t force the bear.

  Mark hurried the group as they passed the mayor’s house. He waved at the upstairs window where Felicity was leaning out and yelling at them to hurry. He ran harder. The others pressed to keep up. They slowed when they were out of Felicity’s sight.

  Mark kept them running until they arrived at the trail that led up the mountain from the dead end. It was the easiest way to get into the hills as the track was well established.

  “Billy Spires has disappeared and we need to find him. We’ll break into four groups of three and search. Jim, left flank. Blackie and I will go straight ahead, and Ivan, you take your team down the right flank. See that bluff up there?” Mark pointed to the rocks where the Werewolves had crouched once upon a time. “Converge there at midday. I am assuming he wants to be found. I have no idea if he was hunting or what and got himself injured. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

  Mark hesitated, thinking of the look on Felicity’s face. He could think of other things, but he wasn’t going to say any of them out loud.

  Clyde barked from nearby. Sue was jogging toward them with Clyde in tow.

  Mark sent Jim and Ivan on their way. Six men started climbing the hill while the others waited.

  “I think I can help,” Sue said in a normal voice, seemingly unaffected by the run. Clyde’s tongue lolled from his mouth, before he noticed the bear cub and started barking and snapping. Hank lunged for him, but Blackie caught the grizzly and held him back. A few sharp words from Sue and Clyde stopped barking and sat next to her, leaning against her leg.

  “Keep Hank back, he’ll spoil the scent,” Sue said as she and Clyde skirted wide past the grizzly and headed up the trail. Clyde was sniffing, as was Sue. They seemed to confer, then took off running.

  Mark waved the men after her and it became a mad scramble up the steep slope.

  They continued unerringly skyward, Mark’s chest was heaving and sparks appeared before his eyes. The others were straining too, so he called a halt. There was no way they could keep up with Sue and Clyde. The two disappeared into the distance.

  “Good breaths, gentlemen, hands on heads, stand up straight, and get the air into your chests. Slow deep breaths.” Mark panted as he talked and gave the men two minutes to catch their breaths before they started running again, this time at a more measured pace. He tried to follow Sue and Clyde, but after clearing the rise where he’d seen them last, there was no sign of the blonde woman or the big coonhound.

  Mark stopped, leaned upwar
d on his tippy toes and looked for any movement, listened for any sound.

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Terry leaned over to wake Char, but she was already sitting up and looking in the same direction as Timmons.

  She looked relaxed, which put Terry’s mind at ease.

  “Families, two or three, with cattle. Nothing to worry about, although I suspect we should introduce ourselves, just in case they have guns and ammunition,” she suggested.

  Char stood and untied the bottom of her shirt so it hung loosely. She adjusted her pistol belt and holsters, making sure the two Glocks were readily available if needed.

  Timmons picked up the fish spear in his right hand and returned to the stream. Ted was getting dressed when they looked back. Gerry and Lacy continued to brush the horses, oblivious to the others’ concerns.

  “Where’s James?” Terry called out.

  “Checking out some houses this way.” Lacy tipped her head opposite where the families were located.

  “Go get him. We have company inbound, possibly hostile. Weapons tight!” Gerry pocketed his brush and rotated his rifle from his back to his hip as Lacy bolted away.

  Terry chopped a hand in the direction that Char and Timmons had sensed the people and flashed five fingers twice. Lots of people that way, the signal indicated. Gerry assumed a position between the unknown people and the horses, taking a knee and waiting for further direction.

  “Shall we, Major?”

  “Of course, Colonel Lover,” Char said with a smile, tickling the stubble on Terry’s face.

  “I may have to put you up on charges for disrespect and conduct unbecoming,” Terry said as he headed toward the road that led from the park.

  “Then you’ll never get any ever again,” Char deadpanned. She walked at his side, scanning the area to get the first glimpse of the other people.

  “Charges dropped,” Terry said, following Char’s gaze toward the northeast. “You’re using sex to manipulate me again.”

  “Not as far as you know,” Char said, stopping and pointing.

  People with tall walking sticks were strolling down the street. What looked like Texas Longhorn cattle ambled lazily with them.

  Terry and Char angled through a backyard and across a street in order to come out in front of the group. No surprises was an important tactic when making first contact.

  The two stepped out from behind the building, casually with hands away from their sides. Char was one step back and to the side of TH, her arms not as far from her body as his.

  The startled group of people stopped, but the cattle kept walking. A young boy ran around them, waving his stick in front of the cows’ noses. The whole procession ground to a halt.

  “Where’d you come from?” An old man with no teeth yelled while leaning heavily on his walking stick. To Terry, it looked like a wizard’s staff. It was tall and gnarled with some ornament at the top that sparkled when the sun hit it.

  He’d make a joke about that later.

  Eleven people. Six adults, five children, eighteen head of cattle. No weapons.

  “We came from what used to be called Boulder, Colorado. We’re looking for survivors,” Terry shouted to be heard. The cows were making a great deal of noise, mooing and shuffling.

  Terry and Char walked closer, her eyes jumping from person to person as she assessed which ones were a threat.

  “You don’t need your peashooters with us,” the old man called out.

  “Can’t leave home without them, you know, in case we come across some big game,” Terry countered, unsure of where the man was going.

  “Let’s have a look at you. Cassandra, come here and give me a hand,” the old man yelled at a woman who looked like she could have been his daughter.

  Terry and Char stopped outside the small herd, away from the massive horns, and looked at the group. “I’m Terry Henry Walton and this is my wife, Charumati.” Char bristled at getting introduced like that, but understood that Terry didn’t want these people to get any ideas. Still, she could take care of herself.

  She married a Knight of the Round Table. She almost laughed, thinking next time he should introduce her as my lady, the chaste and Were, Charumati.

  “I’m Eli and these are my kids and their kids,” Terry looked at the three women and two men, all seemed to be thirty to forty years old. The children were ten to fifteen. Terry didn’t think too long about the children of my children bit.

  This was a hard world, yet he suppressed the urge to shiver.

  “Do you live around here?” Terry asked. The man looked skeptical.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I suspect we’ll be bringing a few more people and a herd of cattle through here in a few months’ time on our way to a place that’s a bit cooler with some infrastructure where we can start rebuilding civilization. We had good luck down south, but it’s getting too hot. The crops aren’t doing as well as they should. I guess you could say that we seek greener pastures.”

  “These cattle do pretty well on the grasses along the rivers and streams in this area, as long as we don’t go inland, away from the mountains. Nasty business out there in the dust bowl,” the old man said, leaning heavily on his staff and struggling to breathe. He had the other arm draped over the woman he called Cassandra.

  “Is the Tongue River still running, and what about the Missouri?” Terry asked.

  The old man started to say something but stopped and concentrated on breathing. The woman spoke. “Don’t know no Tongue River, but we been as far as the Mighty Mo and it is a right sight!”

  Terry grinned. They had found their way ahead.

  “Is there anything we can do for you?” he asked.

  The old man shook his head and then with panic in his eyes, he pointed and the ten kids ran to stand between the wolf pack that strolled from behind the nearest tumbled down house. Ted was with them and stopped the wolves from getting any closer.

  “They’re with us, don’t worry. I miss my dog,” Terry said to take the edge off the situation. The two women returned to the side of the old man while the three men stood tall, brandishing their walking sticks as if ready to fight.

  They had no idea, but Terry appreciated their bravery. He backed away from them. “This is Ted, and the wolves are his.”

  Ted snapped his fingers and ten wolves laid down as one, yellow eyes watching the cattle.

  “After all those fish? You can’t be hungry,” Terry scolded the pack. Ted looked appropriately chastened.

  “Sorry, mister, time to move on, you know, places to go, people to see,” Cassandra said, looking like she wanted to say more but the old man had a tight grip on her shoulder.

  The patriarch. His way or the highway.

  “We hope to see you when we return. We’d love to have you join us. There are about three hundred and fifty of us and a herd of cattle, something like fifty head, if I remember correctly, but nothing like these magnificent creatures!” Terry ended with a flair, trying to leave the old man feeling proud.

  But Eli gave nothing away. He turned without acknowledging Terry’s compliment and shuffled down the road, getting help from the two women as the children herded the cattle. The three other men maintained their defensive posture, twirling their staffs and backing away from Terry and Char. After twenty yards of walking backwards, they turned and jogged after their family.

  “That was pretty creepy,” Char said, watching the group leave.

  “I feel like I need a bath just from talking with them,” Terry added. Ted whistled and turned back toward the stream. The wolf pack disappeared after him.

  When Terry and Char returned, James, Lacy and Gerry had established a perimeter around the park, keeping the horses confined to one area while positioning themselves at three points across a broad front facing the street where the strangers had passed.

  “Stand down,” Terry told them. “A bunch of creepy people and longhorn cattle. The cattle, those things were im
pressive. They’re not half-starved like our herd. I hope they can join us, so we can integrate the longhorns with Claire and Antie’s herd. And if the people start acting weird, we’ll turn Mrs. Grimes loose on them!”

  They appreciated that joke because everyone had been on the wrong end of Mrs. Grimes at one point or another, except for Terry Henry Walton. He was her pet, her favorite. Even Char had gotten an ass-chewing because her jeans were too tight.

  “We leave at first light,” Terry told the group. He and Char returned to their blanket by the stream. James and Lacy left the park to get some privacy. Gerry stayed with his horses. Ted relaxed on the shore as the pack piled in around him.

  Timmons went back to fishing. It brought him peace and happiness. For the first time in a long time, he reconciled himself with who he was.

  ***

  Sue sniffed the trail they were following. She walked to one side, then the other. Clyde stuck his big dog nose right where Sue wanted to be, so she pushed him away. He sniffed the ground, but was watching her to see what she was going to do. The air was cooler that high, but the altitude was starting to get to them.

  “He came this way, didn’t he, boy?” Sue asked the dog, who wagged his tail happily.

  Sue knew exactly why Billy had run. After the engineer’s death and Felicity’s declaration of hatred, he snapped. Sue didn’t judge Billy for getting angry with the engineer. The old man was nearly unhinged over stupid crap. He wouldn’t listen. Billy had a whole town counting on him and he’d always coddled the engineer and the mechanic, but for the move, those two were simply two more old men walking. Now that they were both gone, they wouldn’t even be that. He had to be torn over losing their experience, but not having to carry them all the way to Chicago.

  Char had taken Timmons with her because she didn’t trust him. Sue was now running the administration and logistics. Merrit and Shonna were in the power plant and Adams and Xandrie were hunting, bringing in a deer or elk every single day. Depending on how much longer the power plant lasted, Sue suggested that they start smoking the meat or making it into jerky, a ton of jerky wouldn’t be enough, but they couldn’t carry any more than that.