“Is that why?” She stopped to look at him, one hand on his arm. He turned to face her.
“Of course, what other reason could there possibly be?” He cradled her face in his hand before stroking the silver streak in her hair that trailed down one side of her face.
“Brown pelt, silver belly fur,” she answered before he asked.
Clyde ran at them and jumped, hitting Terry in the chest. He stumbled backward and fell. “What the hell, Clyde?” The dog dropped into play pose, tail wagging furiously. Char laughed and pointed an accusing finger at Terry.
“Saved by your dog. I’m starting to wonder about you, TH.” Terry rolled to all fours and lunged at Clyde. The dog danced backward and ran off. Terry jumped to his feet and jogged after the big coonhound.
“Little boys. My pets are little boys!” she yelled after them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Marcus woke, it was a full day after the bear attack. He’d been moved to the side, placed carefully among rocks protected by a stand of tightly-packed trees. He could smell the bear not far off as it was starting to rot. He crawled stiffly from the rocks. The wound along his side had healed, but there was an ugly scar. His back leg supported his weight, but it looked bulkier than his other leg. He wondered why it hadn’t healed without leaving any trace of the original injury.
He’d think on that later.
His clothes were piled nearby, but he left them as he found the bear and ate, indifferent to the gamey taste. There was no trace of Were scent on the bear, but other predators had partaken, coyotes, birds, maybe even a wolverine. He couldn’t tell for sure.
Marcus ate his fill of the greasy meat and then staggered back to the rocks, where he curled up. He reached out with his senses, but couldn’t find the others. They weren’t close by and he hadn’t seen a note. He changed into human form and dug through his clothes. Nothing.
They could have killed him, but they didn’t. They could have left him for dead with the bear, where other predators would find him, but they didn’t. They could have stayed to protect him, but they went somewhere.
My pack has gone to that town to get Char. They will return with her and then we will move on. With those thoughts comforting him, he went back to sleep.
He could not have been more wrong.
* * *
That evening, Terry and Char rode the horses back to the mayor’s house to inspect the guard. Char told TH to let her handle it, which he agreed to, but he wanted to know something first.
“Were you ever in the military?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied without elaborating.
“Well, out with it, branch of service, MOS, your military occupational specialty, what did you do?”
“Columbia, Naval ROTC, class of 1965. Women didn’t serve on ships back then, so I was admin ashore. That sucked, so four and done.”
“Ivy League,” Terry said. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m thinking your real education came later, the real world education that made you who you are.”
“Studying hard will not turn you into a Werewolf, Terry dear,” she drawled, mimicking Felicity. TH smiled.
He wanted insight into the Werewolf who would protect New Boulder with her life, just as he would. And that was why they were leaving, because it was best for everyone. If only they could get Marcus to follow, lead the pack as far away from the civilians as they could.
“How do we get the pack to follow us?” Terry asked.
* * *
Billy Spires looked at the dog’s breakfast being erected in his front yard. “What the hell is that?” Billy asked, then pulled the window open, shivering when the cool breeze hit him.
“Fuck no!” he yelled at the men below. “Nobody move, I’m coming down there!”
Mark looked at the others with trepidation. What if Billy’s orders contradicted the colonel’s? He didn’t have long to wait as the mayor stormed out the front door.
“What the fuck is this monstrosity?” Billy asked.
“The guard shack?” Mark said, making it a question, just in case. “Shelter from the weather while a place for a third person to sleep, so we always have three people on hand.”
“Why don’t you just use the shed out back?” Billy replied, pointing toward the sidewalk that led to the back of the house. Mark held his hands up. He hadn’t thought to ask.
Billy waved them to follow him as he led the group to the back of his house. A shed was there, unlocked. There was very little in it. Once they moved the freezer out, there would be enough room for a cot, two chairs, and a small table where they could clean their weapons. The only drawback was they couldn’t see the front of the house from the shed.
It was never Mark’s intent to stand guard duty from within the shack, so his people would be exposed to the weather a little more than planned. They’d deal with it.
“We have a triangle of steel that we’ll ring if anyone approaches. That’s our alarm, Billy. When you hear that, you’ll know someone is coming, and you’ll also know that there will be three of us with rifles, out here, between your house and him.” Mark stood tall, looking confident.
He was a far different man from the one that Billy had used to bully the townspeople. John was that way naturally so he flourished in the role that Billy had put him into. John had bullied these men, as well. Mark stood there a new man, with a selfless purpose. The others, too. They were well armed and ready to do battle, even though they were ill-prepared to fight a man like Marcus.
Billy held out his hand and Mark shook it.
“Thanks, Mark, to all of you. Follow whatever orders Terry Henry gave you and for fuck’s sake, tear down that bullshit in my front yard before Felicity sees it and rips me a new asshole,” Billy quipped. The members of the Force chuckled until Mark gave them the Mark One hairy eyeball and they ran out front to tear down their attempt at building a guard shack.
“I trust you, but I hope to hell that big bastard doesn’t come back here. If he does, there will only be one thing to do and that’s fill him with holes. Lots and lots of holes…”
* * *
Terry and Char saw the flurry of activity in Billy’s front yard as they approached. Clyde started barking and ran into the middle of those he considered litter-mates since they all answered to his alpha and her beta.
Chaos ensued until they chased Clyde away. Mark walked from behind the mayor’s house, kneeled down, and ruffled the dog’s ears to keep him distracted while the men finished their work.
Char held her hands out, palms up in the universal WTF gesture. Mark jogged over, waving. “Don’t look at that. It’s nothing. Just cleaning up a little miscue. We’ve established the guard shack out back and the rotation. Ivan and David are sleeping as they have the first two shifts. Here, let me walk you through what we have in mind,” Mark started.
Terry stopped him. “Here’s a lesson I learned a long time ago. It’s called Napoleon’s corporal. In the old days, Napoleon conquered nearly all of Europe. One of his leadership tools was to tell his plan to a corporal. If the corporal could repeat it back to him, then the plan was simple enough to be followed by everyone involved. So, Blackbeard will brief the plan once you remove whatever it is you’ve got going on here,” Terry told them, squinting, unable to make heads or tails out of why this mass of varying building materials was in the front yard.
The men loaded up and carried everything to a nearby burn pile. They returned and formed up into their squad, with Mark at the front and Blackie in the back. The men were armed with AK-47 rifles and magazines inserted. TH nodded for Char to lead the way.
Columbia Naval ROTC. Who would have thought that? No wonder she has a soft spot for the Marines, Terry thought, letting his ego out of its dark place for a short visit. Then he remembered why he went into the Wastelands, how his wife and son had been killed.
How Terry Henry Walton had not been able to save his own family.
He stuffed his ego back into its closet and slammed the door. His men were
n’t ready to do what he asked of them, but they were all he had. He needed Marcus to follow Char, and that was the only way the infantile Force de Guerre had a fighting chance.
Terry and Char dismounted, stood in front of Mark, saluted sharply, and started their inspection. The men didn’t have uniforms, so they inspected the one thing that was available. The weapons.
Char looked over the AK-47 that Mark held in front of him. He turned it one way then the other for her. She nodded and moved to the next in line. Jim presented his rifle and Char ripped it out of his hand. She snarled. “Look at this!”
Jim was confused.
“Your selector switch is set for automatic fire!” she screamed at him. His eyes grew wide. “Am I going to find a round in the chamber, Private? AM I?”
Jim nodded weakly. Char pulled on the magazine release lever in front of the trigger housing and removed the magazine. She grasped the lever aside the bolt and yanked it to the rear, sending a live round out the ejection port and to the ground some feet way. She jammed the rifle so hard into Jim’s chest, it sent the big man staggering backward.
“Put your weapons on safe and get your finger off the trigger!” she growled at them.
Terry wondered how much time she spent with the Marines. Maybe too much as she seemed a natural in her role, but that was an awful long time ago. Nothing to be jealous of, and why would he feel jealous in any case? He shook his head to clear his mind, getting angry with himself.
If his men were not up to speed then he didn’t train them well enough. It was his responsibility. I need more time, he argued within his own mind. But you don’t get any more time. Tomorrow, you run, leaving a trail that a child could follow in hopes that a Werewolf will come after you. Not your best plan, TH, but there wasn’t anything better out there, so off you go, dickweed.
Terry was harder on himself than anyone else could ever be. He didn’t give others that kind of control over his life. He answered to himself alone.
Char continued the inspection while Terry fought his internal battle. When he came back to the present, he found that Char had moved two people down the row. He whispered a few kind words to Jim and then to Boris as he caught up with her.
She didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking about. He was putting these men in harm’s way and they were woefully underprepared. She was chewing on them enough to give them weeks of material to think about. When she finished with Blackbeard, whose weapon was completely unloaded, she had to ask. “No ammo, Private?”
“I was just given my weapon this afternoon, Major. The corporal said I have a few more lessons before I’d get ammunition. I don’t stand watch for four more days. I’ll be ready, ma’am!” he proclaimed.
“Now that is the smartest thing I’ve heard today!” she bellowed. A glint from the upstairs window showed Billy and Felicity both watching with great interest. Felicity waved to Terry, who didn’t acknowledge her.
“Weapons discipline is important in all situations. Blackbeard!” she called, even though he was standing in front of her. “Brief me on the guard plan.”
“Can I show you?” he asked. She nodded tersely.
He walked to the far corner and started his long explanation as to why that spot was the first point while the two men of the guard worked their post. One looking one way and one looking the other at all times, both looking in the direction that Marcus had last come from, the road that led to the mountains.
Blackie also beat on the metal triangle with a small bar, making it ring. Each guard would carry one at all times, ready to sound the alarm.
He walked them through the routine and then showed them the guard shack behind the mayor’s home. Char injected ideas here and there, but overall, she was satisfied with the plan and the squad’s understanding of it. She formed them up one last time. Clyde ran wild through the group and discipline failed as he encouraged them one by one to pet him.
Char turned to Terry. “You need to get your privates under control?” He started to laugh, but caught himself, unsure whether she was joking or not. She didn’t look like she was joking, but that shit was funny, especially while Clyde continued to wreak havoc.
“Clyde! Come here, boy,” Terry called, kneeling to draw the dog his way. Char resumed.
“Well done, Private Blackbeard,” she intoned, working not to roll her eyes at saying the name. “I like your plan. I like your engagement. I can’t tell you how important it is to always be on alert, day or night. They could come at any time.”
“They?” Mark asked.
“I meant he, he could come at any time, but who knows how many others are up there. Be ready for anything,” she replied, trying to cover her mistake. The men looked confused.
Terry stepped in. “We will leave a trail for him to follow. If he shows up, you are to tell him where we’ve gone. It is best if he follows us. We’re going north, then east along the South Platte River. There will be road signs and we’ll leave signs, too. Your mission is to get him out of this town. I think you will find that despite his size, he will be an exceptionally difficult target to shoot at. If you fire, you must be prepared to die, so I prefer that you get him to follow us. Talk to him first. He’ll know that Char has gone. Just tell him the truth. Any questions?”
No one had anything to say, even though Mark was curious as to why they wouldn’t be able to hit this mystery man.
* * *
When Marcus awoke, it was dark and he felt that most of his strength had returned. He returned to the bear for another meal, then settled in to wait, wondering when the pack would return with his mate. He’d give them until morning, then he’d go into town himself.
* * *
James had gone through the packs three times already. There wasn’t much, but Mrs. Grimes was a superhero in making sure they had the little that they did. Enough food for a couple days, if they rationed themselves.
He looked at the others, Devlin, Lacy, and Geronimo, an odd mix of people. James didn’t understand why he was picked over Mark, or Devlin instead of Jim. One was older and smarter and the other was stronger than all of James’s people combined.
They’d be on the road for a while. James hoped that he could pick the colonel’s brain, learn how he thought, get smarter at the things that Terry Henry Walton valued.
They had time to kill, so James decided he needed to get to know his people better.
“Devlin, tell us about yourself. Why are you here?”
“I grew up here, my whole life spent foraging in the woods, farming, and doing odd jobs. I don’t know, but Mark and John thought I could be useful, so they snagged me and Jim. Then there I was, one of the lawmakers. Our job was to intimidate people so they’d do as Billy told them. That was it. I hadn’t been doing that long before Terry Henry showed up. He killed John, right there in the dining room, and then he gave us a choice. Reform or join John. That was a pretty easy decision,” Devlin said, not looking at the others, feeling the shame of what he’d been before.
“What you were before doesn’t matter, Devlin. That was a stupid question on my part. Lacy, tell me what you like about the FDG. Why did you join?”
“Because I believe in people. I grew up here, too and saw the recent change in everyone, especially Billy Spires. If Billy could change like that, then there’s hope for us all. I want to be a part of making this world a better place. I believe in Terry Henry Walton and his vision for a new civilization. The people from Brownsville are the first of many to join us. I feel it in my bones!” Lacy offered with a smile.
She was young and wore her brown hair cropped tightly around her ears. She was short, stocky, and well-muscled. Like the other residents of New Boulder, she didn’t have any fat on her body, but she wasn’t starving. She had limited experience with horses, but she had grown up working in the power plant as a helper to the mechanic. She was born after the fall, and the mechanic looked after her once her parents passed. It was the least he could do for his niece.
James nodded and kn
ew he’d talk with her later about the power plant. He was fascinated by it and wanted to know how the plant generated electricity.
“Tell us why you’re here, Geronimo.” James pointed to the small man.
“I finally have a chance to be somebody,” Geronimo said in a small voice.
“What do you mean by that?” James pushed.
“You knew me, recognized that I existed back in Brownsville, but no one else did. I was just a lackey, a nobody. I lived in the stables with the horses. They are my only friends.” He looked at the ground. James leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not any more, Geronimo. I’ll call you Gerry, because that’s what friends do, give each other nicknames. You can call me Corporal!” He stood and clapped his hands. “Gerry! Why don’t you select our six horses from the eight we have on hand and teach us a little about them? You are the expert, from what I understand.”
Gerry beamed with pride and led the group to the horses where his love for them was obvious. He gently stroked each and they followed him around like puppies.
The four members of the FDG groomed the horses, made sure they were fed, then went to bed early, because they needed to be ready for when the colonel and the major arrived.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Terry and Char ate in silence while Margie Rose watched them.
“What’s wrong with you two? Did you get into a fight?” she asked. They both perked up instantly, in full denial.
“Come on, Margie Rose, you don’t think I’d rather be in a warm bed right here? We’re both bummed because we have to lead a bad man into the Wastelands, as far from here as possible.” Terry wiggled his eyebrows at the older woman, along with showing his most winning smile.
Clyde howled from somewhere outside. His attack on the biscuits had gotten him banned from the house during meal time.
“TH and I are good, don’t you worry about that, Margie Rose. I mean really good,” she said suggestively. Margie Rose blushed and Char giggled.
Nomad Redeemed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 2) Page 9