Nomad Supreme

by Craig Martelle

  Billy gathered his wits and watched Felicity stroll up behind Char.

  The chief finally finished with Kae by picking him up and carrying him. The boy held on to the man’s neck as they turned to address the others. He looked briefly at Felicity and nodded tersely before looking away.

  Terry was fascinated by it all. Billy bumped him as he assumed a position at Terry’s right hand.

  Foxtail looked at Billy and shook his head, but he was smiling. “I have seen you before, a long time ago, my friend. I was drunk in the parking lot of a convenience store, and you walked by with some other young toughs. They wanted to hassle me, but you told them to leave me alone. I have never forgotten that,” he said sincerely, bowing his head at the end.

  Billy shook the chief’s hand. “I’d like to say I remember that, but I don’t. We were always hassling people for no reason. I’m the mayor now, responsible, with a family. Who would have thought that?”

  “I’d invite you to spend time with us, but know that you have a long way to go. I am pleased to see that you have vehicles. Someday, you must tell me that story,” the chief said. He looked toward the village. “Our delegation will be here shortly. Shall we?”

  The chief motioned for the group to follow him back to the bridge.

  The chief stopped as he walked past Felicity. She glared at him. He frowned, then touched the baby’s head. “May Mother Earth grant you peace,” he told them both before continuing on his way.

  “Billy, you were always a good guy at heart. Who would have thought that?” Terry smiled and slapped the smaller man on the back. Billy tried to look mean, but ended up laughing.

  His actions from twenty-five years earlier had earned him praise. Sometimes one had to wait, and that was giving him heartburn.

  All he saw was the hardship and not the success that would be well earned. When the people established their home in North Chicago, they’d think of New Boulder as the transition from the bad days to the good ones.

  A transition that Billy Spires made possible. And his friend, TH Walton.

  Billy took Marcie as he smiled at his wife. “We’re making a difference, a good one,” he told her. She wasn’t comfortable with the chief, because he’d seen something from the first moment he looked at her.

  “Chief Foxtail, I want to tell you that Kiwidinok has been an exceptional addition to our family. We thank you for the gift that is her company,” Terry said, trying not to sound stilted or like he was making something up. He’d thanked them the last time they came through, but didn’t think it would hurt to thank them again.

  The chief nodded. “We thought so and are glad that she has found a home where her talents and wishes are best nurtured.”

  The group reached the bridge before the delegation, so they talked about the weather. Terry tried to avoid talking about the vehicles, but the chief had to know.

  “They were buried in a mountain, protected by evil ones. Those creatures are no more and we rescued a few people too, along with some of the hardware that you see,” Terry said proudly.

  “Why the weapons of war, Terry Henry Walton?” the chief asked directly. “Why do you insist on leaning on such a crutch?”

  Terry was backed into a corner. He stood quietly, but the chief had a nearly infinite amount of patience.

  “Because I’m not strong enough without them,” Terry admitted. The others looked at him in wonder. Even Char considered him the greatest warrior she’d ever met. After their nanocytes combined, she thought of him as nearly invincible, but he continued to carry feelings of inadequacy.

  Maybe he needs a big watch, she thought. All the operators, the Special Forces types, that she’d met in her life wore big watches. Terry had none and thanks to her recklessness, he didn’t have his mod deuce anymore either. If you couldn’t have a big watch, then a fifty cal was the next best thing.

  “I’m sorry, TH,” she blurted.

  The chief snickered. Terry wondered what she was sorry for. He was happy that she had quickly healed from her accident. He thought it appropriate and timely to share good news.

  “I think you already know, Chief Foxtail, but for everyone here, Char and I are expecting a baby.”

  Felicity’s jaw dropped. Billy laughed, happy that he wouldn’t be the only old man not getting any sleep. The chief congratulated them both, acting as if he hadn’t known. The others there also wished the couple well.

  The delegation arrived, and it was led by the chief’s mother.

  “Very nice to see you again,” Char told the old woman. They hugged warmly. The other three in the delegation were an odd mix: the chief’s son accompanied his grandmother, then there was another man, maybe the chief’s age, and he was the odd man out. He wasn’t native and he stood nearly seven feet tall.

  Char’s ears perked up as the man approached. She had been distracted by everything going on, along with recovering from the concussion. She’d missed the fact that another Were was near.

  But this one was different.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  They traveled much faster than they had originally planned because they had three horses. There was nothing to hold them back.

  They rode quickly to the railyard, following the lines from outside their home base. They found a diesel locomotive, but it looked to be in poor shape.

  “How much work do you think it’ll take to get this one running?” Timmons asked.

  “Two hundred hours,” Ted replied without hesitation. “In a full machine shop. Out here? Thousands…”

  “We’ll keep it as an option. Moving on,” Timmons called. They remounted their horses and continued through the yard to the tanks. Gerry pointed to the top.

  “It’s locked tight,” Kiwi said.

  “We’ll see about that,” Ted said. He and Timmons ran up the stairs while Gerry and Kiwi held the horses.

  “Do you think they’ll get in?” Gerry asked.

  Kiwi giggled. In some ways, she was still a young girl. “Those two? Of course they’ll get in,” she replied. In other ways, she was all grown up. She nuzzled Gerry suggestively. “Maybe we can kill some time?”

  Seconds later, Ted yelled from the top of the tank. “It’s fuel oil!” The two came running down the stairs, catching Kiwi and Gerry in an amorous embrace.

  “No time for that. Checking the next one,” Ted called as he jogged past. They followed, curious how he was able to get into the tank. They found out quickly that after he was forced to climb to the roof to recover the solar system, he had manufactured two thin metal pieces, one to insert and hold the tumblers, while the second was used to jiggle them into alignment. Ted opened the lock as quickly as someone using a key.

  The majority of the tanks were filled with jet fuel. The biggest was fuel oil and the smallest was half-full of diesel.

  “A couple thousand hours is all. We can fill it with more diesel than it needs,” Timmons suggested.

  “Tanker cars,” Ted yelled over his shoulder as he ran into the classification yard where the Mini Cooper was hidden in a train of tankers.

  Ted went from one to the next, opening and then closing them. “Unleaded mostly, and one diesel,” Ted told them after he’d checked the cars on the west side of the track, the ones between the Mini Cooper and the power plant where they’d put it to use.

  “Got a plan?” Timmons asked.

  “Not yet, but I will when we need it,” Ted replied. Gerry and Kiwi were along for the ride, to provide help if needed, but they couldn’t imagine what they could do that the two Werewolves could not.

  Ted and Timmons both looked toward the city. Hovering at the edge of what they could sense was the daywalker, the Forsaken called Joseph. He was there, probably watching them.

  “You know what they say, Ted. Go west, young man,” Timmons stated and headed for his horse.

  “I didn’t know they said that.” Ted shrugged and climbed into the saddle.

  ***

  They waved goodbye to the chief and Terry led the g
roup across the bridge.

  Char stayed behind, motioning to the Were.

  “You are?” Char probed.

  “I’m Aaron, pleased to meet you,” he said cordially. He was tall and slender, almost emaciated, which seemed odd for a Were, who were usually abnormally healthy, but he didn’t look sickly.

  “You’re a Were,” she told him directly.

  “I am aware that I’m a Were, and you are too,” he parried, verbally dancing. He grinned. “Shall we join the others?”

  Without waiting, he strolled towards her group. He was light on his feet, seeming to barely touch the ground as he walked. Char was nearly a foot shorter than he was. It was disconcerting. She’d get the pack together, and they would confront this man.

  Terry was calling for everyone to load up and prepare to move out. He helped the delegation into the back of a truck, hoping that not too many more vehicles broke down. All the seats were filled and then some. They were carrying as many as they could carry.

  Terry drove to the front of the convoy and waved at Billy to bring up the rear.

  The town’s people of New Boulder waved through the windows or out the backs of trucks as they passed the small army of natives gathered on the other side of the river.

  “That tall guy’s a Were,” Char told Terry. Kae was squeezed between them as usual.

  “He’s a Werewolf?” Terry asked, unsure of what to believe. He didn’t get any odd sense from the man.

  “No, he’s not a Werewolf, but he’s Were. I’ll have the pack corner him and get him to come clean,” Char said.

  “Maybe he’s a Weregiraffe?” Terry wondered aloud, putting the dune buggy into gear.

  Once Char started laughing, she couldn’t stop.

  As they approached Billings, Terry slowed and pulled to the side of the road to wave Blevin and his semi past.

  The semi slowed and eased dead vehicles out of the way to clear the path for those that followed.

  He pushed all the way to the bridge that sent them to a fork in the road. I-94 continued east and I-90 dipped south. They wanted I-94 to Minneapolis. From there, it was easy traveling.

  Once all the vehicles were across the bridge, they’d drive through the flatlands of North Dakota. Without having to worry about food or water, Terry wanted to press on for as long as there was daylight.

  Or until they saw those damn buffalo.

  “You have got to be shitting me…” Char said.

  “When that buffalo rammed into my woman, his life became forfeit!” Terry claimed.

  “Your what?” Char asked, still skeptical of Terry’s plan.

  “My woman,” Terry said with less confidence. With Kae sitting between them, Char couldn’t punch Terry in the arm or the chest like she wanted to.

  “Uh huh,” she mumbled. “You are not shooting a buffalo with the fifty cal.”

  “Yes, I am,” he replied calmly.

  “I must note that you don’t have a fifty cal,” she argued.

  “I’ve already talked with Billy. You need to tell me where they are when you sense them. After that, I’m all business. And, most importantly, we need the meat. Four hundred people eat a lot!”

  She couldn’t disagree with that. Food was a constant need and an eighteen-hundred-pound bull would be a nice addition. There was a younger bull in the herd, so they weren’t killing the species by taking one.

  “Make it so, Number One,” Char said in her best Jean Luc Picard voice.

  The convoy plodded across the prairie that had been North Dakota. A great swath of grassland had been burned away during their previous trip through. On the other side of the wildfire, the great buffalo encounter had taken place.

  That was what Terry called it.

  Char wanted to forget it.

  Until she felt the small herd, knowing it was the same based on the number. “The buffalo are up ahead,” she told Terry, pointing.

  He sped up to burn a U-turn, then waved at First Sergeant Blevin to hold up. Terry continued past the slowing vehicles until he reached Billy and Felicity.

  He stopped, and they talked. Everyone got out except for Billy. He remained at the wheel of his dune buggy. Terry stood between the seats, bracing himself as he manned the machine gun. He racked the lever with a hearty pull, sending the first round into the chamber and cocking the mod deuce.

  Char shook her head. Terry looked to be in the zone, or in other words, happy as a pig in shit.

  Billy drove out cautiously, as one does without a great deal of experience driving. Terry reached down to tap him on the shoulder, pointing past his eyes to the plain. Billy bumped down a small bank and continued carefully into the dry grass. He continued a few hundred yards before Terry signaled him to stop. Then they waited.

  The mayor wanted to get closer, but Terry said no. He had a weapon that was good at long range, and they were less than a mile from the herd. Billy could barely make out the shapes at that distance.

  Terry waited until the bull separated itself from the others. Terry took aim, expecting to walk the rounds into the animal. He had no idea where the first round would hit so he estimated low to better see it tear up the dirt.

  He depressed the lever that was the M2’s trigger and the metal beast barked. Almost two seconds later, he saw the round hit a good twenty yards in front of the bull. He adjusted his aiming point and depressed the lever, carefully lifting the barrel as round after round blasted downrange.

  The bull had been startled by the first shot, but he hadn’t moved. The third round hit him above the shoulder and almost knocked him down. The fourth round broke his neck.

  Terry watched it fall and let off the trigger as ten additional rounds flew harmlessly over the animal’s head. Terry pumped a fist in the air. When he turned, there was no cheering. Many of the civilians watching from the road were appalled.

  He waved the cleaning crew forward as he climbed from the dune buggy. Billy was all smiles.

  “Holy shit!” Billy exclaimed.

  “Don’t ever wonder why I wanted these weapons. Imagine if they were in the hands of our enemies? Better that we hold onto them ourselves, don’t you think?”

  ***

  The second day saw much of the same as the first. Mostly clear track as the trains had been consolidated in fewer areas. The locomotives hadn’t died in the middle of nowhere, but within a mass of trains where there was nowhere else to go.

  They followed the Metrarail tracks to the west. All day they traveled and didn’t seem to get anywhere. Timmons was already disappointed, but he’d committed to doing this for his friend, and because they needed the Mini Cooper and cars filled with fuel.

  Ted wasn’t dissuaded. He ran calculations in his head based on his estimate of the total distance of rail lines in the area. He figured that it would take them only twenty days to cover it all. By his estimate, they’d seen less than ten percent of the total.

  They continued west for another twenty miles before turning north, leaving the rail line to catch the next one running northwest, then follow that back into the city.

  Gerry and Kiwi understood the plan, but that didn’t make it less tedious. They wanted to hunt. Timmons agreed, pointing to where they would find deer, so they galloped ahead of the wolf pack to take care of business.

  Ted held his wolves back, turning them loose at the sound of Gerry’s shot.

  Timmons and Ted rode after the wolf pack, enjoying the diversion from what would be a series of long and boring days.

  ***

  “Lost two of the trucks,” Blevin reported to Terry. The colonel looked into the distance as he calculated capacity and fuel usage.

  “You know, Blevin, it’s amazing that the convoy has made it this far. We’ve been lucky and we could walk it from here, but we can wicker things around, tie a few more empty barrels to the tops of the trucks, and keep on going. Thanks for telling me. You know the drill, First Sergeant,” Terry told him.

  “Yes, sir. Shifting people and things, squeezing ten p
ounds of mud into a five pound sack.” Blevin saluted and ran off.

  Mark watched him go. “So this is what I’ve been missing?” he asked.

  “Yes. And then there are times when it’s really boring. I’m okay with never riding a horse again, just for reference,” Terry replied. “Make sure the box of grenades finds its way into my dune buggy. I haven’t told anyone we have them, because it’s none of their business. I don’t want to be in a position where I wish I had a grenade and didn’t.”

  Mark saluted and headed out to move the small crate of grenades, set the watch, inspect weapons, and do what he did as the platoon sergeant.

  ***

  “Whoa! Why are you ganging up on me?” Aaron cried, looking at the stern expressions on the human faces of the four Werewolves.

  “What are you?” Char demanded. “Don’t make me ask you again. It’ll be easier to rip you to shreds so we don’t have to watch our backs.”

  “What does it matter?” he asked. Char grabbed his collar and yanked his face to her level.

  “My mate and I have sworn to protect these people. Period. You are a threat. Change into your Were form now or die,” she growled.

  He held up his hands in surrender. Sue, Shonna, and Merrit were on the balls of their feet, ready to fight. Their clothes were unbuttoned and loose. Clyde wagged his tail slowly, curious as to why his pack was upset.

  Without stripping, the man shimmered for a millisecond before his clothes covered a hairy creature underneath. A Weretiger shrugged out of the clothes. Char looked at the cat, understanding why he didn’t want to change before a bunch of wolves.

  And a dog. Clyde went nuts with a great cat two feet in front of his face. His hackles were up as he barked and lunged. Aaron retreated a step, then stood on his back legs to put his paws on Char’s shoulders.

  “Aren’t you a tall kitty?” she said, relieved as she didn’t get any sense that Aaron would attack.

  Clyde, on the other hand, saw the opportunity and darted for the Weretiger’s exposed private parts. At Were speed, the cat slapped Clyde in the head with his big paw. Clyde yipped and backed away, continuing to bark furiously. Aaron changed into human form, then dressed quickly while blushing.