Nomad's Fury

by Craig Martelle

  “Is the warlord special in some way?” Char asked. Terry was thinking about the innocents and what he needed to do to make sure that his people treated them as refugees and not enemy combatants.

  It was a difficult task and one where hesitation could be deadly. The FDG needed to identify friend or foe at a glance, then act accordingly. Every single member of the platoon needed to get it right. It was a significant undertaking.

  “He is a Forsaken, not a daywalker either. I will join you for the sole purpose of removing the Forsaken from power. I need you to do the rest, deal with the humans and save them.” Akio sounded like he was pleading.

  For the sake of humanity, Terry and Char had to take the job.

  ***

  Ted unfurled the sail and it snapped tight in the brisk breeze. Aaron hung halfway outside the boat to avoid getting hit by the beam as it whipped back and forth with Ted’s tacks.

  Kae was at home in the boat since he’d been in it before; he had just enough experience to give him an artificial level of confidence. Ted made him sit down so he wouldn’t accidentally fall out. “Can you swim, Aaron?” Ted asked.

  “Yes, but for some odd reason, I really don’t like getting wet and I don’t float at all, too skinny, I guess,” Aaron answered, looking at himself as if the answer would be there.

  “You’re a cat. Of course you don’t like getting wet,” Ted said matter-of-factly. “But you should love fish.”

  “I do. Speaking of that, when are we going to start fishing? I’m hungry. That big oaf messed with my breakfast.”

  Ted shook his head. He hadn’t gone into the chow hall when he saw that Gene was there. He expected some level of discord any time the Were-bear was around.

  Ted had taken the boat south. The base was still in sight. The wind was strong, probably more like the usual wind as opposed to the mild winter winds they’d had that year.

  They’d gone not more than two miles when they ran across a larger container vessel that had run ashore, probably right around the WWDE. It was settled into the lake shelf and created a large reef. The growth on the hull drew the fisherman in Ted. He suspected it was home to many different varieties of tasty fish.

  “We need to catch at least ten so I can feed my wolves,” Ted said, setting the performance standard.

  “And leave nothing for us? Twenty, Sir Theodore, or bust!” Aaron said grandiosely, waving one arm over his head, hitting the sail. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Twenty or bust!” Kaeden called in his small voice.

  “Okay, twenty then,” Ted conceded, all the while keeping a weather eye on the horizon.

  ***

  Joseph’s mouth was bleeding. He ran a dark tongue over his lips to collect the blood before it got away. He smacked his lips and waved Timmons forward.

  They were supposed to be working on leg strikes and defenses, but the intensity of their engagement had become an anything-goes sparring session. The rest of the platoon and the pack surrounded the two fighters, who appeared to be equally matched.

  Timmons had underestimated Joseph’s abilities based on how easily Terry Henry had beaten the Forsaken. Maybe Timmons overestimated his own abilities, when he should have known better. He lasted less than one second against the colonel. At least Joseph was able to get up on his own after his fight.

  Timmons had his hands up and bobbed his head like a boxer. James was disappointed because they weren’t using any of the techniques he’d been teaching.

  Joseph only had a couple hours of practice in the techniques, but he was employing the blocks and counterstrikes. The Forsaken seemed like a natural.

  James wondered why the man fought as one with no experience.

  Timmons attacked, feinting with a couple jabs before trying a leg sweep. Joseph easily dodged it and spun, catching Timmons in the middle of his chest with a roundhouse kick. The heel of Joseph’s boot hit like a sledgehammer. The Werewolf grunted as he stumbled backward.

  But he didn’t fall. Joseph danced away, sneering. He was in it to win it. He’d had enough of Timmons’ snark and wanted to shove the man’s words down his throat.

  I have every right to exist as you do, Joseph thought. His eyes glowed red as he worked his way left and right, trying to find an opening. Timmons blocked and parried, connecting again with the side of Joseph’s head. The Forsaken blinked the stars away as Timmons laughed.

  Blind fury gripped Joseph. He didn’t know how he did it, but he moved as the wind—one second here, the next, he had Timmons by the throat and was lifting him and choking him. The Werewolf struggled in his grasp.

  Joseph screamed his anger. He turned, carrying Timmons over his head as he slammed the man on the ground behind him. The Forsaken let go, only so he could rear back and put more power into the punch aimed for Timmons’ chest. The Werewolf could do nothing to stop it.

  The glow from Joseph’s eyes was the last thing that Timmons saw as the Vampire’s fist drove into his chest, shattering his breast bone and breaking his rib cage. Timmons coughed, splattering blood over his attacker’s face.

  Joseph wiped it with a finger, then licked the blood off. One of the Force gagged. Ivan had to turn away.

  “Enough,” James said. The Forsaken’s eyes were already dimming. He looked around him at the wary faces. They hated him, and they feared him. Joseph wasn’t sure what he wanted from them.

  Respect?

  He hadn’t earned that yet.

  He straightened his clothing, adjusted his hat, and turned to leave. “I’ll be back in three days, as per my agreement with Colonel Walton.”

  The bodies separated, creating an opening through which Joseph passed. He started to whistle. It had not been a bad day. The Werewolf’s blood was a sweet treat, like M&Ms in the old days.

  ***

  It took a while before they got the first bite, but once they figured out the right depth to fish, they dragged them in each time they dropped their lines in the water. They raced past twenty fish, to thirty, then forty and then they could no longer move as there were too many fish in the well of the boat.

  Kaeden was cheering and shouting, despite Ted’s urging for silence so he wouldn’t chase the fish away. All Aaron wanted to do was get to a place where he could change into his Were form and devour fish to his heart’s content.

  He dropped his line in expecting a small bite, but something big grabbed the line and nearly jerked it out of his hand. He was already top heavy, leaning far out over the edge of the boat, close to going overboard when he jerked himself back.

  The boat rocked dangerously, but Aaron caught himself. Kae wasn’t so lucky. He hadn’t been prepared for the rocking. He was standing when it happened and was thrown back against the boom, then tossed headfirst overboard. The grounded ship was too close, with sharp steel beneath the water. The shore wasn’t that far, but they didn’t know if Kae could swim.

  Aaron threw his line down, giving up on the great catch, as he crawled under the boom, saw the boy beneath the surface, and he dove in.

  He caught the boy in one arm as he slid past, his momentum carrying him toward a mass of jagged steel. He turned to protect the boy with his body. He gasped when he slammed into the knife blades of the shattered hull. Aaron kicked for the surface, tearing his leg open on the way. When he came up, Ted was fighting with the boat to give Aaron space. The sail caught the wind and almost tipped the boat over. Half the fish went back into the water as the sailboat balanced precariously on its side, before righting itself, prow pointed directly at the shore.

  The wind filled the sail and drove the boat forward. Ted tried to yank the boom to the side, but it was too late. The keel scraped into the rocks and with a horrible grinding sound. The bottom was ripped from the boat as the rest of it was tossed ashore, taking Ted and a wave of fish with it.

  Kaeden sputtered once he hit the surface. His eyes were wide in panic and he slapped at the water. Aaron tried to calm him as he side-stroked toward the shore. He found the bottom and tried walking, but the
rocks were slippery. He stumbled and slid his way ashore, wrenching an ankle and leaving a stream of blood behind them.

  Once Kaeden was safely ashore, Aaron shrugged from his clothes and changed into a Were-tiger. He attacked the fish, feeding his ravenous hunger and fueling his nanocytes to repair the damage to his body.

  Ted lay on the small beach, looking at his destroyed sailboat. “I guess I can save the sail.” He furled the sail and tied it down. He waited until the tiger had his fill, and then Ted stuffed the sail cover with fish and slung it over his back.

  “I’m sorry, Kaeden, but we have to walk home,” Ted apologized. “Coming?”

  Aaron remained in Were form. Kaeden was over his panic, now that he was on dry ground. He picked up Aaron’s clothes and walked with them, keeping Ted between him and the lake.

  “I don’t think I like boating,” Kae offered.

  Ted remained unperturbed. “Next time, we’ll find a bigger boat, a better boat.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “If I may ask, Akio-sama, what did you see in Joseph’s mind?” Terry asked.

  “Even Forsaken deserve their private thoughts, although in most cases, those thoughts die with them as they tend to lose their head around me,” Akio offered with a slight smile.

  Terry didn’t know that Akio made jokes. It seemed unlike him; maybe some of Bethany Anne rubbed off.

  “You let him live, Akio-sama. I’ll take that to mean we can work with him, keep him close. If he does anything, I will kill Joseph myself, you have my word,” Terry promised.

  Akio looked into Terry’s eyes, then nodded slightly, before looking away. “We are descending, but we won’t land. I want you to see what you will be up against.”

  They peered out the windows as the pod hovered.

  “Brooklyn and Queens,” Char said. Terry often forgot that she was from New York City. Her accent had grown milder over the years or he’d gotten used to it. Maybe she didn’t have any remnants of the New York accent left. He didn’t know.

  “What do you see?” Akio asked.

  Terry moved behind Char, wrapping an arm around her as he leaned over her to look out her window. She caressed his hand as she focused on the city below. Terry could see the sparkling purple of her eyes reflected in the window. He took a deep breath, smelling her hair, then returned his attention to the terrain where he would conduct a tactical operation.

  Mission accomplishment and no one left behind. Those were his two goals. Char would be instrumental in the planning, as well as the others in the pack.

  Akio watched Terry Henry Walton and listened to his mind. It was a flurry of activity, but the complete devotion to his wife and intense level of personal honor would have made any samurai proud.

  “I see the buildup of an area,” Char observed. “A wall, roadblocks even though there are no cars. A fortress of sorts. What used to be a golf course is now a field with crops. People striving to survive, carving a slice from a dead city to become a new city-state.”

  “I concur. Out of all that, where do you think you would find him?” Akio asked.

  “The massive brownstone. It was probably some rich guy’s home, with the obligatory Ferrari out front. I never understood the sports cars in a city where if you hit twenty-five miles an hour, you were lucky. You were far more likely to hit a pot hole that would tear up your undercarriage.” When Char looked away from the window, she found both men watching her.

  Eve seemed to be observing the humans as a whole.

  “Okay, I’ve got some memories that we’re not going to revisit. Leave it be!” she insisted, arguing with herself as no one else said anything.

  “You would be correct. The brownstone. Can you sense him and the humans?” Akio asked, knowing that she could.

  Char closed her eyes and reached out. “Hundreds of humans in that area, dense around the brownstone, but then spreading out. Nearly all of them within the blocked off area.”

  Terry was instantly frustrated. He wanted the information, the intelligence regarding the enemy in order to plan the best operation, exposing his people to the fewest risks while giving him the greatest chance for success.

  “What are our assets, Akio-sama?” Terry asked as he craned his neck to see the area below.

  “Your people, whoever you wish, two pods to move them, and your hardware.”

  Terry’s ears perked up. “Is there any way we can pick up some stuff from Cheyenne Mountain?” Terry asked hopefully, like a kid who earned a return trip to the candy store.

  Chicago

  Timmons needed help to leave the training area. Shonna was on one side of him and Merrit on the other. He asked them to stop and waved to get James’s attention. “Next time, Sergeant, let’s train on something a little softer than pavement,” Timmons gasped, suffering from the broken ribs that had punctured his lungs.

  “I think that’s a good call, Gunner. Sorry about that. Next time we’ll do better,” James replied, wincing as he saw how much pain the man was in.

  Shonna and Merrit shuffled away, half-carrying their pack mate.

  Gene sat on the ground, leaning against the grizzly cub. Blackbeard joined them. “May I?” he asked. The big man nodded.

  “Bogdan likes you,” he said thickly, slurring his words, still reeling from the damage that Akio had done to his head. Gene’s eyelids were half-closed as he fought to stay conscious.

  “We killed his mother,” Blackie explained. “She’d eaten one of our horses and charged us. Hank almost got himself shot when he came out of the brush, but we held our fire, and then I couldn’t leave the little guy out there.”

  “It is okay, tiny human. Bears are unpredictable bunch. Just look at me!” Gene chuckled to himself. He had never been beaten, let alone that easily. The Were-bear in him respected strength, making it easy for him to decide to defer to the small man from the pod, the one they called Colonel, his mate, and that angry old woman with the wooden spoon who was serving breakfast.

  He’d eaten well, gotten pummeled, was taken care of, and would eat well again.

  All in all, not a bad day.

  “You visit anytime, tiny human. I like you,” Gene said as his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Call me Blackbeard, or Blackie for short,” the corporal corrected him.

  “Like pirate? That very funny. Blackbeard it is then, my friend. You call me Gene, short for Yevgenniy Stalin, Sergeant in Russian Army, Olympic gold medal winner, and bear.” Gene finished speaking and rolled to the side.

  “Sergeant!” Blackie called. The platoon was still nursing their wounds from practicing on the pavement. It wasn’t James’s finest hour. He hoped the colonel wouldn’t be too upset, but James expected to be fired for getting so many people hurt.

  “We need to get him back to his home. I’m going to need some help,” Blackbeard requested.

  James called the platoon over. “Any ideas?”

  “I think it’s going to take a mess of us to move him,” Mark suggested. No one disagreed. Jim moved in first and took an arm, trying to lift Gene. He didn’t get very far.

  Others joined Jim until there was no more room. With two people under each arm, they hoisted Gene to his feet. He swayed drunkenly. Blackie walked with the grizzly cub as they started the procession toward the base where Gene’s home was the closest of all.

  They probably wouldn’t have made it much further than that.

  ***

  “Why do you remain in so much pain, my friend?” the chief asked. Adams shrugged. Foxtail continued in a soothing voice, “Death and loss are a significant part of life. We celebrate those who have gone before and then we move on. It is our responsibility to live a good life in their absence, never forgetting, but the time for lamentations is past.”

  Adams didn’t think so. Xandrie had been his mate for decades and moving on was one step too far. He had his direction from his alpha, which gave him purpose. He was doing the best he could, and they had only lost five cows, but those five were providing
food for the travelers. He’d done well, by anyone’s standards, but he didn’t get to share the victory with his mate.

  He could see her rolling her eyes as he claimed victory, telling him that anyone could have done it, but only to keep him humble. She would have been proud of him as he was proud of what she accomplished.

  Maybe he hadn’t left her behind, only her physical body.

  “Thanks, Chief,” Adams said with a smile. Foxtail looked into the Werewolf’s yellow eyes. He didn’t share what he saw, but he clapped Adams on the shoulder before nodding and walking away.

  Boris strolled up. “Where the hell are we? I got a bad feeling about this place.”

  “Somewhere in the middle of what used to be North Dakota, if I’m not mistaken. Following this river is a bitch. If I only had a map, we could save ourselves a lot of walking since we seem to be back tracking a lot.” Adams sighed. The longer the trip took, the more likely they’d start losing people and more cattle.

  “We could take a few of the horses and scout ahead, not like we’re doing right now with people a half mile out front. I’m thinking ten to twenty miles!” Boris suggested.

  “Now that is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. Start with two and head out front. Find us the best way ahead, the shortest way where we still have water,” Adams ordered.

  “Done!” Boris claimed. He ran off to find Charlie and acquire two horses.

  “And that is how the Force Cavalry is born and turned loose upon the world,” Adams said to himself.

  ***

  The pod crossed the country quickly and landed in front of Cheyenne Mountain, in the area that Terry had cleared with a bulldozer. Akio held Terry and Char back.

  “Let Eve go first, she’ll move everything you need. Simply point it out.”

  “There’s a tank down there…”

  “No,” Akio said quickly, winking at Char. Terry sensed a conspiracy, but held his tongue.

  “We already moved C4 to Chicago. Flash bangs and non-lethal weapons would probably be handiest.” Terry ran through his mind, seeing where everything was stored. The sound of the doors squealing open signaled Eve’s success in punching in the code.