“Hey, boys, I think I have a job for you. Why don’t you take Smashmouth here for a little run. When you get back, we’ll do some fire team immediate action drills, start learning how to attack in ways that will strike fear into your enemy’s heart.”
“But, but, but…” the man stammered. “My name is Ivan.”
“GET. OUT. OF. MY. FACE!” Terry screamed. Mark, Jim, and Devlin ran past, grabbing Ivan’s arms on their way. His feet barely touched the ground as they hauled him down the road. He complained and cried for as long as Terry could hear.
“What are you doing to me, Billy Spires?” Terry asked the sky. He watched as the four men stumbled away on the five-mile track that he had laid out for them.
It had only been a week. The men were still breaking down, but Terry would have to rush them into service. He needed more people, weapons, and ammunition if he was going to help Billy consolidate what was left of the great state of Colorado and start building a new infrastructure around his engineer and mechanic.
They needed talent and they needed workers.
So much to do, but that meant taking a force strong enough to protect itself to find the other communities and convince those people to give New Boulder a chance.
When would the timing be right for all that?
Maybe next year. In Terry’s twenty years of self-imposed exile, he had learned patience. If it was next year, so be it. Having a stocked arsenal was probably the one thing that would provide him the greatest comfort. Once a Marine, always a Marine. He loved sending rounds downrange. It provided him a certain measure of peace.
He needed that as his past still haunted him. He saw his wife’s face in his dreams. Only Margie Rose knew anything about him and she wouldn’t tell.
* * *
Marcus watched his pack as they crouched on a bluff overlooking the human settlement on the outskirts of what used to be Boulder. They could see activity, sense the warmth from the greenhouses, feel the power from the electrical generation system. Lights twinkled in one small area, then, a line of lamps lit up, illuminating a long expanse of road.
“Would you look at that? Our locals are starting to regain the past,” Marcus stated.
The others nodded politely, not sure which direction the alpha was trying to take the conversation. No one wanted to be on the wrong end of a beat down. He’d gone to the extreme to reinforce his position. The other Werewolves were on the defensive, guarding their words and actions carefully.
They’d eaten the last of the elk they’d killed. The animals had moved to higher elevations to avoid as much of the day’s heat as possible. Soon, Marcus would have to follow with the pack if elk were going to continue to be their staple.
“I think we need to take a closer look. Who wants to volunteer to go undercover into that town? The rest of the pack will follow the elk, but we’ll be back in a few months. So that will be the job. Go, endear yourself, live among them, then we’ll see what it all means come the fall.” Marcus laughed when he saw everyone freeze.
Finally, his mate spoke up. “I’ll do it,” Charumati said. Marcus glared at her. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, as all Weres tended to be, but she was exceptional with eyes that bordered on purple, surrounded by thick and long eyelashes. Around her heart-shaped face, dark brown hair hung well below her shoulders. On one side of her head, a silver streak trailed down her hair. Brown with a silver streak was the true color of her pelt and she liked carrying it in human form as a badge of her Were honor. She was tall, almost six feet, with long legs making her shapely body that much more statuesque.
And she was his mate, but she was also one of his greatest enemies. At any moment, he expected they would fight one final battle from which the loser would not walk away. He wondered if she volunteered just to get away from him. He snarled, raising one side of his lip as he sneered at the others.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Not a man among you? Sit there with your tails between your legs, you fuckwads?”
He turned towards her. “And you! Just go, you fucking bitch! Fuck off. All of you!” Marcus shouted as he threw an arm up, storming away.
Charumati raised one eyebrow and held her hands up innocently. “What? Did I do something wrong, pet?” she taunted, knowing that Marcus could hear her. He stopped for a moment and she crouched, thinking that the final fight had arrived. But it wasn’t to be. He stripped while staring her in the face, bundled his clothes and changed into his Were form. Then, he left them and raced into the woods.
The chill in the air had nothing to do with the warm of the summer day.
Char shrugged, waved, and headed downhill with just the clothes on her back. She’d think of what to tell the townspeople during her stroll. She was in no rush. Maybe she’d fall a few times, look more convincing as a damsel in distress. Didn’t everyone love one of those, rushing to their aid?
With that thought, she dove head first down a trail of rocks and rolled until she hit the bottom. “Ow!” she exclaimed, realizing that she probably could have waited until she was closer.
Her body would start to repair itself, but she’d walk with a limp for a while. Then she realized that if she took too long, she’d have to do that again because she’d be healed. But the blood stains on her clothes would be real. The weeds in her hair looked convincing. “Next time, maybe you think a little more before you act?” she cautioned herself.
“So where do we go from here?” Char asked no one as she continued walking downhill, starting a healthy conversation where she was the only one talking. She had spent too much time alone. Maybe the people would provide some entertainment, and it had to be better than the constant fights with Marcus. He’d grown so paranoid, she had no idea what he’d do next and that scared her. She didn’t want any part of that.
Maybe she’d find a champion among the humans. Wouldn’t that be funny? She laughed. She knew that she would be the most dangerous creature there and they wouldn’t have a clue. The men would all vie for attention and maybe she’d give them just a taste, enough to build her own pack of potential suitors.
Just in case she needed them to do something for her.
* * *
Billy congratulated the engineer and the mechanic on their accomplishment of extending the electrical grid. He hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten, but when he showed up, they used the opportunity to showcase their work. Billy shook their hands and smiled, then realized what he was doing. He looked behind him to see if Felicity was there, continuing to manipulate him.
“Damn that woman!” he blurted. The engineer looked at him sideways.
“Excuse me?” the mechanic asked. Billy realized that he didn’t know their names. He had always called them just engineer or just mechanic, but those titles had now become names of honor. They were the names they used when he wasn’t around. He didn’t understand that either. Maybe he’d been soft all along, only he didn’t notice.
Nah, that couldn’t be it. He was plenty tough.
“I’m going hunting. If I get anything, I’ll make sure you get a healthy cut of it. Keep charging, gentlemen!” he said and nodded as he walked away. The two men beamed at their boss.
What the fuck have I become? he asked. Those were Terry Henry Walton’s words, not his. Goddammit!
He headed west, reveling in the light of the lamps overhead. The grid was active. There was a separate power line to his house, but now, all the homes on this section of the grid would have power. That meant a couple old factories could be brought back to life, but what would it take to fire up the equipment, and what could they produce? What raw materials would they need?
People. He needed more people, a lot more people, to rebuild the infrastructure and then turn the town into a city.
After he finished hunting, he’d plan for a trip around the region, find more survivors and invite them to New Boulder, show them that technology and civilization was returning.
He needed to talk with Terry. If anyone could make that happen, it
would be him. He also knew that it was dangerous in the wasteland. Who better than his security chief to accompany him?
Putting those thoughts behind him, he turned his nose toward the hills and sniffed the clean air of a non-industrialized world. Maybe that would change, maybe it wouldn’t, but for now, it made for a good walk. He strode briskly away, heading for the road that would take him west into the hills.
* * *
The runners returned after almost an hour. Mark, Devlin, and Jim were angry. Ivan was soaked in sweat and Jim was mostly carrying the overweight man, which completely befuddled Terry Henry. How could anyone get like that when food was so hard to come by? He shook it off. The man would trim weight rapidly as his calorie burn had just increased a hundredfold.
“Where do you live, Ivan?”
He pointed toward town, panting and unable to speak.
“WRONG!” Terry yelled, pointing to the house behind them. He had taken to calling it the barracks for lack of a better term. “In the barracks with you, Smashmouth.” He nodded to his boys and they dragged the other man away.
“Mark, Devlin, come back here after you’ve tossed him into the tub,” Terry called after them.
They returned barely twenty seconds later. From in the house, Ivan was yelling at how cold the water was. There was no pleasing some people.
“Can you two shoot?” Terry asked without preamble.
“I’ve never fired a gun,” Devlin said, looking at the ground.
“That’s good since we don’t have any of those. We have a rifle and a pistol. Do you know about rifling?” Devlin shook his head.
“This is my rifle, this is my gun.” Terry pointed first to the rifle over his shoulder and then to his groin. “One is for shooting, the other for fun. Nothing?” Both men shook their heads. At least they didn’t have any bad habits.
“Well, gentlemen, we’re going to learn how to shoot because our first big test is we’re going after more rifles. We need to be the best armed of anyone we run across and that means more than just these. We need to train in how to shoot and move, cover each other as we attack, or build a withering wall of fire should we find ourselves in a defensive position. That is what made the Corps great. Combat turns boys and girls into warriors; training is the key to making that transition as painful as possible for our enemies. I know it’s only been a week, but once you have your own weapons, I will need to trust that you won’t shoot me. How can you prove to me that I can trust you?” Terry asked as he ended laying out his operational plan for the near term of his security force. His strategic plan looked much further out.
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know, besides giving me a chance.” He pointed. “Devlin can watch my back and if I do anything, he can put one between my shoulder blades, because I’d deserve it. Trust isn’t something you can just give away freely. It has to be earned, and I’m doing what I can, but only you can decide whether you trust me or not,” Mark admitted, not trying to convince Terry one way or another.
“Deal,” Terry replied, holding out his hand. They shook to solidify the agreement, then Terry took Devlin’s hand as well. “You have a key role here. You need to be ready at all times to shoot him. Let me go talk with Billy Spires and see what we can do to get some firepower.” Before Terry took a single step, he heard the report of a rifle, far in the distance. It was distinct because there were no other sounds like it in this post-apocalyptic world.
Terry’s hearing was better than any human’s, too. He checked to see if the others had heard it and they had.
“A single shot, sounded like it could have been fired from the AK. So, combat analysis, what do you think that was?”
Devlin scrunched his eyes as he was deep in thought. Mark shook his head. “Billy must have gone hunting,” he said. Devlin nodded slowly.
“Perfect. You two help bring dickhead up to speed regarding the new rules that he gets to live under. Keep in mind, that no matter how good a unit is, there’s always a weak link. Right now, it’s him, but I expect he knows how to do things that we’ll need. When that happens, someone else becomes the weak link. No matter what you do, someone will always be that person. Keep that in mind as to why we won’t simply discount that man. He might figure it out, but if he always fails to keep up? Then he doesn’t meet the minimum standards to be a member of the FDG,” Terry stated, adding a new acronym.
No one questioned him as to what it meant. At some point they would, when they felt like real members of the team.
“I’m going out there to help Billy carry his kill. We’ll talk weapons and the way ahead. It doesn’t get any better than that!” Terry turned and left without any delay.
* * *
Billy was gutting the small doe he’d shot when he heard a noise. Thinking a bear had smelled the blood, he dove to the side, grabbing his rifle as he rolled to a kneeling position, ready to shoot.
A tall woman stood there with her hands up, watching him carefully. There was no fear in her eyes as Billy pointed his rifle at her. He dropped the barrel when he realized his AK was aimed at her. She was stunning. She was also a bit of a mess. Blood stained the tears in her clothing. Leaves and grass were trapped in her long brown hair. The silver streak drew his eye, but she was young, maybe in her early twenties, Billy guessed. He stood with his mouth open as he eyed the woman who put the gorgeous Felicity to shame.
“I’m sorry about that. You startled me,” Billy apologized as he slung his rifle and approached her, offering his hand still covered in blood from when he was cleaning the deer. She took his hand in both of hers and raised it to her mouth. She licked his index finger clean, then bit her lip playfully as a small drip of blood ran toward her chin.
He jerked his hand back. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded.
“It’s just a little deer blood. You eat what you have to in order to survive. I was on my own out there, for years, before I stumbled across this place, found you. I’m Charumati, but my friends call me Char. You’ll call me Char, won’t you?” she said. Billy couldn’t tell if she had an accent or not.
“Sure, babe, I’ll call you Char. Wait until Felicity gets a sight of you. There will be some hell to pay, and I think I’ll be the one fronting the cash. Yeah, what are we going to do with you?” Billy asked, unsure of what the next few hours held. He was still put off by the blood licking, but not enough to change what he was thinking. Everyone had their idiosyncrasies.
Another sound, and Billy turned, but he didn’t bring his rifle to bear.
Terry Henry Walton stood on the road and looked at the tall, young woman through narrowed eyes. He seemed frozen as he stared, but it wasn’t with the look of a beauty-smitten man. It was one of the hunter as he faced a predator. Then the look vanished and Billy wondered what he’d seen.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Terry said as he approached. “My name is Terry Henry Walton.” He raised his hand to his brow, almost too quickly to see. Her hand shot up beside her face, ready to block the blow she thought was coming. Terry scratched his head, then lowered his hand slowly. Billy was watching them both, but missed the exchange.
Char was intrigued, but wary.
“Terry is my security chief,” Billy interjected in a ham-handed way of establishing his authority.
“Yes, I am, and proudly so. Thanks, Billy. I heard your shot and thought I’d come give you hand carrying that beast back into town. So, let’s take a look…” Terry pulled his knife when he saw that the cleaning had only just begun. He made quick work of it, keeping his eyes away from the Werewolf. He knew that she was watching him, trying to figure him out. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
What the hell are you doing here? he asked himself. And where did you come from? A bitch, all alone? There had to be more of them and that scared him, reminded him what he’d come for.
“Billy, another reason I came was I wanted to talk about weapons for my boys. I’ll need some horses. We have a little ways to go, but I think we can find a stash of the good stuff. We
’ll talk more later.” Terry had planted the seed and that was sufficient. He didn’t need to reveal anything else to the Werewolf.
“We’ll talk about that later, Terry. Can you carry that by yourself? I think the lady could use an arm.” Billy Spires delivered his best smile, but he wasn’t anything to look at. His only attractive quality was power, and that wasn’t very much in the big scheme of life. It had worked before when he was the big fish in the small pond, but with Terry’s arrival, he’d learned that he was a small fish in a small pond. It made him angry, but Terry hadn’t betrayed him, not yet anyway, and he seemed to have no interest in the new woman.
Billy thought that Terry may have been gay. He didn’t care, although he could trust a gay man around his women, and Billy already claimed the new one. Billy looked forward to watching the women fight over him. Maybe he’d end up with both of them tonight. That thought buoyed his spirits immeasurably.
Char took Billy’s arm as they walked away. Terry threw the animal across his shoulders and shook his head. Billy had shot a young doe, barely bigger than a large dog. That was wasteful. Terry would let Billy know when they were alone. If he brought it up now, Billy would take it as an affront, posturing to demean the mayor in front of the new woman.
Terry watched them walk. Char was flirting just enough, but not too much. Billy was taken, of course. They walked like that, Billy doing most of the talking, which was by design, because there was no way she could explain her presence to any rational human being. She showed up with nothing in the middle of nowhere, looking like she just walked out of a Hollywood makeup room.
Billy was smart, and Billy was an idiot.
Char continued to steal glances at Terry, the mystery man. She sensed something was different, but couldn’t put her finger on it. She had time and she’d find out.
As they approached Billy’s fairly large yet nondescript home, Terry started to giggle. He’d seen Felicity watching out the second floor window and the look on her face was priceless. She didn’t let Terry down as she burst through the door into the front yard and intercepted the three as they approached.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 6