Nomad Mortis

by Craig Martelle

  Butch stood up straight to loom over the mayor’s desk. She cocked her head slightly. Wolves howled outside as Ted walked in, stopping at the door when he saw that Felicity had company.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a prior engagement.” Felicity stood and waved to Ted. “Ted, dear, if you would tell these two that everyone in the pack works, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  “Oh, yes, everyone works. You two look like farmers to me. That’ll be to the west beside the ranches. Follow the well-traveled road and the smell. You can’t miss them,” Ted told the two without hesitation.

  Felicity cocked her head to lock eyes with Butch as she passed, then took Ted’s arm, leaving the two Werewolves in her office.

  “Way to go, dumbass,” Skippy said.

  “What did I do, you fucking fuck?” Butch snapped back, scowling.

  “You got us farm duty.” Skippy turned to leave. Butch stopped him.

  “The mayor offered hunting so I think we should do that. Return with a deer or an elk, maybe a water buffalo,” she taunted, relaxing.

  “If we came back with a water buffalo, we would be the envy of all.” Skippy crooked his arm toward Butch. “Shall we?”

  “A-hunting we will go!” Butch declared before changing into her best Mel Blanc. “Be vewy, vewy quiet, we’re hunting wabbits.”

  San Francisco

  Terry and Camilla crouched behind the sill as they looked through the broken-out window of a three-story brick building that had survived the earthquakes, but was on its last leg. No one lived there except the rats. Camilla could not ignore them, stomping her foot as they got close. She pulled her knife and held it at the ready. She had no intention of eating one, but hoped that enough dead rat bodies would warn the others away.

  Or attract more.

  She was at a loss. The colonel seemed indifferent as he studied the checkpoint and the wall that they hadn’t seen earlier. It was similar to New York City where they walled off sections between the new boroughs, delineating the various leaders’ territories.

  Terry didn’t like it, but as long as they weren’t killing each other or had a Forsaken involved, he tolerated it. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, and humans liked their boundaries.

  The colonel studied the checkpoint. It looked like something erected by non-military. It didn’t have speed barriers or a guardhouse. It looked like a bunch of guys with guns checking people and their vehicles as they passed in both directions.

  Traffic flowed and the attitude of those waiting didn’t indicate this was something to be feared. Terry squinted to better observe a search of a Nissan cargo truck. It was quick and the searchers smiled and shook hands with the driver after they finished. They hadn’t taken anything that Terry could see.

  Then they waved the next vehicle forward, a wagon drawn by two horses. The check was cursory, and they waved the driver through without him having to get down. The horses barely stopped before they were moving again.

  “What do you think they’re looking for if they aren’t digging too deeply into the cargo or the drivers? There’s no interrogation, no in-depth search, and no fleecing of the population,” Terry wondered aloud as he watched. He didn’t expect Camilla to answer, although she had the unbiased view of a person who had never seen something like this before.

  “It looks innocent to me,” she replied. “It’s what we would do if a bunch of people and trucks were trying to bring stuff into North Chicago.” She continued to watch closely. Terry didn’t argue. He wasn’t sure he’d set up such a roadblock without an identified threat from which to protect the population.

  “You see any pedestrians?” Terry asked.

  “What are those?” she answered.

  “Sorry. That would be people on foot. I’m not seeing any, but we saw a bunch of people on this side of the wall, and they aren’t going through the vehicle checkpoint, so how do they get to the other side?”

  Camilla shrugged.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep. When it gets dark, we’ll find a way through.” Camilla looked at a rat that was trying his luck. She launched herself and speared it with her knife. It wiggled in its death throes as she held it up, impaled on her blade. She flung it to the far doorway, where it wasn’t long before other rats showed up to mercilessly devour their fellow.

  But it kept them away from her. She tried to sleep, but all she could hear were scurrying rats. When it was pitch black out, Terry shook her awake. She felt like she’d fallen asleep only moments before.

  Terry saw the exhaustion in her eyes. “Welcome to San Francisco. The rats will tell you that they were here first,” he quipped. “Let’s get in, see what there is to see, and then leave before anyone knows we were here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Germany

  Akio sat on the ramp looking up at the stars. Bethany Anne was somewhere out there, doing what she had to do to protect humanity. Akio had seen the best and worst since she’d flown off. He’d seen the people try to destroy themselves, followed by the rebuilding where the strong held sway over the weak, and others, like Terry and Char, who helped people get back on their feet.

  He thanked Bethany Anne for seeing the potential of Terry Henry Walton and boosting him with nanocytes. Without him, Akio wasn’t sure the United States would come back. The new city-states would be critical for the future of all mankind. From them, the nation-states would sprout and the modern world would be built anew.

  Akio held his duty as solemn, to be done to his last breath. His only demand of himself was that he succeed for the Queen.

  He knew that was the Queen’s unwavering requirement, too. She assumed his loyalty was absolute. The only thing that remained was getting the job done. Akio worried that if she returned that day, his mission would be incomplete. Forsaken would control more of humanity than they did when she left.

  The Forsaken were attempting to dominate all of humanity, turning them into unwitting slaves. Neither Akio nor Terry Henry Walton could have that. Terry’s brazen kidnapping was an escalation in the war for the future of the planet. The previous skirmishes had been nothing in comparison.

  Akio was frustrated that he couldn’t sense the Forsaken. He hoped that Aaron and Yanmei had more luck. He could feel them approach, stopping to change back into human form, dressing, and returning through the platoon’s perimeter. He heard the soft call of “beer me, bitches,” with the appropriate reply of “beer up.”

  A little bit of Terry Henry lived in all of them. Akio knew Terry’s mind and understood that he loved beer as a comfort drink. He learned to brew it sufficiently that a couple times a year, he would get to indulge. Terry would put all distractions aside, sit on the beach, look at the water, and enjoy his beer. Char would sit by his side and for those brief moments in time, he was completely at peace.

  Like when Akio shared tea with Yuko. Akio breathed deeply and slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth. His frustration melted away.

  Terry and his beer.

  “Yuko-chan, would you be so kind as to prepare tea for the four of us?” he asked, bowing deeply.

  “Of course,” she replied and retreated to the area toward the pod’s cockpit that served as a galley. It was little more than a place where water was heated or cooled, with something that acted like a convection/microwave oven. There was a small refrigerator that didn’t hold much. The galley was there for the comfort of the crew, not the passengers.

  Yuko started heating the water as Aaron and Yanmei entered the pod. Akio saw in their minds that they had not found anything either, no sign of Forsaken.

  “Nothing, Akio. Humans doing what humans do,” Yanmei reported.

  “Same with me. How many do you think were down there?” he asked, although he could sense most of them from where he sat. Akio reached into the etheric and looked.

  “Thousands scattered up and down the river,” Yanmei guessed.

  “And the same for me. For three Forsaken to change three hundred humans, it w
ould take tens of thousands of potential candidates. It would take the numbers that we see here, so where are the Forsaken?”

  Aaron and Yanmei both shrugged. They couldn’t fathom a guess.

  The hills south of San Francisco

  Gene had reported that he thought he sensed a Forsaken, but he couldn’t be sure as it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. He apologized profusely for not being certain. He and Cory had explored to the edge of civilization, but the sense didn’t return. They stayed in the shadows away from the people after depositing the scout team on a hillside with a great view of the bay.

  No one needed to know they had been there. Char wondered if the Forsaken had sensed Gene’s presence first and went into hiding.

  She didn’t report it to Terry because she wanted to be certain. When morning came, she’d take the pack to the east and together, they would figure it out.

  “As the least conspicuous, you two will go inside if we don’t find anything on the outskirts,” Char told Sue and Timmons. They didn’t question the alpha, even though they were sure that Terry told them not to make contact. He wanted to limit the number of newcomers who appeared until he was certain that they wouldn’t skyline themselves.

  “Will do, Char,” Timmons said. “Besides the Forsaken, is there anything else you want us to look for?”

  “Products that seem out of place, like advanced technology. I can’t be sure that aliens aren’t here. Everything we’ve seen looks way out of place. Vehicles, electricity, people running to and fro. It feels off,” she admitted, hanging her head as she rested her elbows on her knees.

  Cordelia put a comforting hand on her mother’s back. Fu sat in Gene’s lap as he leaned back in one of the pod’s jump seats. She was sleeping.

  Joseph sat to the side. He usually didn’t get too close to people, even though Cory was continuously encouraging him to join the group.

  Kim, Kae, Marcie, and Ramses appeared on the ramp. The platoon’s leadership wanted an update from those who had conducted the initial reconnaissance.

  “We need to know if our defensive posture is sufficient,” Kim said to break the silence.

  Char lifted her head and looked to the others. They shook their heads. “We didn’t see anyone until we were out of the hills. No one is anywhere near us. Stand to, one third of the platoon. One up and two sleeping at any time until further notice. Establish a chow and cleaning schedule so we always have one third on watch and one third close by,” Char said matter-of-factly, easily slipping back into military mode. She didn’t do it often, but she held it close and readily at her command.

  The military was a part of her that would never go away. Like all the other parts. Werewolves were used to filling different roles at different times during their long lives.

  Char furled her brow thinking about the last time she had changed into Were form. It was when she ran to Chicago to see Jonas and collect Joseph. It was less than a year ago and she ran magnificently. Her scowl turned into a smile.

  Cory still had her hand on Char’s shoulder and could feel her mother relax. She didn’t know what she was thinking about, but whatever it was, it had made her happy.

  Kim issued the orders and the other three left to inform their squads. Kim stood casually, watching the others. She suddenly felt like she didn’t belong. Beautiful people in incredible shape. They could be hurt, but they healed almost instantly. A Forsaken who could see into other people’s minds, who could sleep for years at a time to extend his own life, who drank blood when he could get it.

  She looked away from the pack and turned to leave. “Hang on, Kim,” Char said. “Tell her what you saw out there.” Char tipped her chin toward Sue and Timmons.

  “It was the world like it used to be,” Sue said. Kim shook her head. She had no mutual frame of reference. She had been raised in a world of ruins. “Vehicles driving on roads that are being maintained. Power and running water, like we have, but different. It doesn’t look rebuilt. It looks like it did before the fall. There are still a lot of ruins, but there’s even more new construction. And people. Looks like lots of people.”

  Gene leaned around Fu. “Fucking people chase game away. No game in hills. Dickweeds,” Gene slurred.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Char asked.

  “Too much wine,” Cory said with a sigh. Gene had found a bottle, but she didn’t know if he drank it or not. “And now he’s hungry, too. Have you seen how much Uncle Gene can eat?”

  Char looked up at her daughter knowingly. “Don’t I ever,” she said in a low voice. “But Weres can’t get drunk.”

  “Then what’s wrong with him?” Cory asked, furrowing her brow and taking a step toward the Werebear. Char perked up, suddenly concerned. Gene started to snore. Fu was snuggled into his lap.

  “When’s the last time they slept?” Char wondered.

  No one knew.

  “We have an exhausted Werebear. Does anyone know if he’s prone to hibernating?” Char asked, then held up her hands before anyone answered. “I know, it’s a bad joke. We better have a mountain of food ready for him when he wakes up or he’ll be useless for who knows how long to come.”

  “On it,” Kim said, shaking her head at her Uncle Gene.

  “Get some shuteye, people. We’ll be back out at first light,” Char told them. They left Gene sitting upright as the others found places to sleep wherever they could. Char and Cory laid head to head in the same jump seat and soon, both were out cold.

  San Francisco

  Terry walked casually within the shadows, maintaining a constant but slow pace. Camilla stayed close behind him. He could see in the dark, but she could not, having to count on him to be her eyes.

  It wasn’t that dark since San Francisco had streetlights and what looked to be a nightlife.

  “This is crazy,” Terry whispered. Am I in denial that they could recover more quickly than we could?

  Terry wrestled with his ego, but brushed it aside. He forced his mind open. He was on a reconnaissance mission to observe and report.

  He had to reserve judgment until after he had more information, which meant getting inside.

  As he approached the checkpoint, he saw where the sidewalk was blocked off, leaving an open area to the side and down a hill. He followed it cautiously, waiting until the guards at the vehicle checkpoint were distracted before crossing a well-lit area.

  Once out of sight, Terry hurried downhill, slowing as he reached a corner. Camilla was right on his heels as she remained in his shadow while he used his superior night vision to guide them.

  He popped his head around the corner and then leaned back quickly. He saw a pedestrian checkpoint, manned by two guards. The two men, armed with AK-47s, were leaning in a doorway, an artificial chokepoint. Terry wanted to get in without them having ever known he was there.

  They needed to find a different way in.

  Terry led Camilla into the back alleys and unlit areas away from the two checkpoints. He kept the wall a couple blocks to his left as he put distance between them and the guards.

  When they crossed an unlit road that led toward the barrier, he took it. At the end, there was a blockhouse on top of the wall with a single man leaning out, looking into the darkness. Terry stopped as soon as he saw the guard. The colonel backed up at a glacial pace, keeping Camilla behind him.

  Once clear, he waited, listening for an alarm. He gave it a minute and then moved on.

  They found blockhouses every half mile. Terry’s instincts that something was wrong had not led him astray. No one outside the wall appeared to be such a threat to warrant that level of manpower commitment. Terry knew what it was like to feed an army. He’d worked for twenty-five years to build from thirty warriors to one hundred and they still spent time nearly every day helping out in the various areas of food production.

  Just like he made them do when there were only four members of the FDG.

  Integrating into the community was important. And it worked both ways. The
more the FDG helped the community, the more they helped the FDG. Terry was starting to judge, draw conclusions from the limited observations they’d made to this point.

  “Who’s calling the shots in there?” Terry wondered aloud.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Camilla whispered.

  “Concur, Camilla. I think I see our way in,” Terry whispered back.

  North Chicago

  Skippy and Butch were in Were form. They sniffed the air again to make sure the wind hadn’t changed. They were downwind from a fat buck who was ripping apples off the lower branches in a small stand of red delicious trees.

  The Werewolves separated, Butch going left and Skippy going right.

  They stayed in the brush for as long as they could before Butch set the trap by snarling as she leapt. She ran straight for the buck. The beast’s eyes shot wide as it panicked and turned to run. Its substantial antlers got caught in the branches and violently yanked the buck’s head.

  Skippy bolted from the underbrush to cut the deer off. Through a series of frantic gyrations, it tore through the branch and started to run. Skippy slammed into the buck’s side, knocking it down.

  Butch was there a moment later, dodging the horns as she tried to get a grip on the creature’s throat.

  Skippy was fangs deep into the back of the buck’s neck, but it was able to get its hooves beneath it and lurch upright, the Werewolf still clinging to its back.

  Butch pranced out front to stop it from running. The buck tried to jump over the Werewolf blocking its way, but didn’t get any air because of the extra weight. The deer rammed Butch, but the Werewolf twisted and clamped her flesh-rending jaws on her target.

  It was over quickly.