They needed to hunt. The horses needed to graze. And it was time to come clean with his people.
“Halt!” Terry yelled as he held up his hand. Char looked at him sharply.
“Prey?” he asked closer to a whisper. She nodded as they sat atop their horses, waiting. She climbed down and shifted her pistols on her hips. Terry pointed ahead and she disappeared into a nearby ravine at a dead run.
He knew that she had to be hungry after the earlier workout. Terry hoped that she’d catch something big. He held his finger up to his lips. “Make camp. Quiet now, until we know if the hunt was successful. James, set up a defensive perimeter and watch schedule, include the major and me. We all stand watch.”
James turned his horse and slowly walked back to the others, letting them know that they were to set up camp.
Terry pointed to a spot against a bank, sheltered on three sides. “Make a fire in there so it can’t be seen. Wait until dark to light it, shouldn’t be too long now.” James issued a couple orders, then joined Lacy, and they headed down the mostly-dry riverbed to gather driftwood.
Terry removed his and Char’s saddles then listened to see if he could hear where she’d gone. Geronimo was taking care of the other six horses, while the others prepared the camp. The ammunition almost made Gerry’s knees buckle when he lifted it from the pack horses. Heavy packs all, but they had more firepower than Terry thought they’d use. He hoped they wouldn’t get into a firefight like that, but better to have the ammunition and not need it.
The squeal of a javelina or other wild pig came clearly from the direction that Char had gone. Then a second. Terry’s mouth started to water. Roast pig sounded good. It took another forty-five minutes before Char arrived with one pig, cleaned and ready to roast.
“Are you good?” Terry asked cryptically with James and Lacy nearby and Devlin and Gerry standing on the bank, one on each side of the river.
She hesitated before answering, looking at the others. “I’m good,” she finally said.
Terry butchered the small pig so it would cook more quickly, then handed everyone a couple pointed sticks to cook their pieces. He didn’t have the time or inclination to build a spit. Clyde was exhausted, barely able to lift his head after nearly a full day of running after the horses. Terry fed the dog plenty of meat and gave him a leg bone to chew on while they cooked the rest of the pig. Clyde fell asleep with the bone in his mouth.
They cooked in silence and when their dinner was ready, Terry called the others down, while Char took the watch. Only he and Char knew that she’d already eaten, but to the others, it looked like she was taking one for the team.
Terry ate quickly, wolfing down his portion while the other one he’d cooked stayed warm for anyone who wanted more.
“Have you heard of Werewolves?” he asked. No one had. “Wolves?”
They nodded, curious where he was going.
“A Werewolf is a person who can turn into a wolf, but a powerful wolf, one that normal weapons don’t affect. That’s why I told the guard in New Boulder to send that man-mountain Marcus after us. They couldn’t fight him and win. He would kill them all and there would be nothing they could do about it. We’re out here because he’s chasing after his mate,” he said.
They looked confused. Geronimo’s eyes shot wide. “Char!” he exclaimed.
“That’s right, the major is a Werewolf. And she’s going to have to fight him. We will be of little help. While out here, she’s going to train to get faster, stronger, and ready to take him on. She’ll need all of our help. For now, I need you all to unload your weapons, lock the bolts to the rear. We can’t have any accidents.” The four young members of the Force sat there and looked from Terry to their rifles.
“What are you waiting for?” he growled. “I gave you an order.” They jumped into action. Lacy ejected her round directly into the fire and Terry dove in after it, pulling a scorched hand out with the round. He tossed it to back to the private.
“Please be more careful next time,” he grunted, cradling his arm as the nanocytes rushed into action. Lacy was shocked as she looked at the skin starting to bubble on two of Terry’s fingers.
“Char! If you would be so kind,” Terry said into the darkness. With a small avalanche of dirt and rocks, a massive, brown she-wolf slid down the hillside. She crouched and growled when she hit the river bed. Devlin jumped backward, tripped over the log he’d been sitting on, and landed flat on his back. James jumped up.
“Sit down!” Terry ordered in his commander’s voice. “This is our secret and you must keep it. You cannot tell anyone, ever, on pain of banishment and death. Do you understand me?” They nodded, but that wasn’t good enough.
“I need each of you to look me in the face and tell me that you will take this secret to your graves. James?” One by one they swore to keep Char’s secret. She strolled around the fire, walking close to each member of the Force, sniffing them and intimidating them. They recognized her purple eyes and felt more at ease, though fear still gripped them.
They’d never imagined that something like that existed. Their worlds had been simple ones, where finding food and water was the major effort of the day.
Devlin returned to his seat and ran a hand down the she-wolf’s side. She snarled at him and he pulled back. “Keep your hands off the major, please,” Terry said, trying not to laugh. She walked around the circle and sat down, very doglike, next to Terry Henry Walton, where she leaned so heavily against him that she almost knocked him off his log. He wrapped his arm around her to keep from falling and stayed in that position.
Devlin pointed at him. “The major?” Terry shook his head.
“I will protect her with my life,” Terry told them. She nuzzled his head in reply. He breathed deeply of the fur around her ears, smelling some of Char, a little of Clyde, and even some of himself. She stood and shook, smacking Terry with her ears and snickering, then slunk off into the darkness.
Shortly, the human Char joined them, bumping Terry over on his log to take her own seat. She took the last skewer and nibbled at the meat, but wrinkled her nose and handed it to James, who looked at it longingly. He broke it into four pieces and handed it to his squad.
Terry approved.
“Load up and go back on watch. You know what the major looks like in wolf form. The other one will be all black and big, much bigger. Watch for him. The only thing you can do is shoot him often until we can get there. We have a couple tricks up our sleeves that may give us an advantage.”
“Like what?” James asked.
* * *
Marcus woke and it was already dark. He felt refreshed enough to hunt, so he changed into the great black Werewolf. He headed out, circling to find a scent, then circled further. When he found nothing, he returned for his clothes and carrying them in his mouth, he followed the cold scent of the horses along the riverbed.
He ran up the bank at regular intervals to listen and sniff the air. When he smelled the buffalo, he had to go after it. It was a long ways off, but it would give him the strength he needed to catch his wayward mate and destroy those who traveled with her.
Across a great area of devastation he ran. No water and years of excessive heat had turned the land rough. It was nothing more than dried mud, which helped him as he ran, adjusting as the breeze carried the smell of a herd. He ran and ran, going north, further and further. Another river with more water was there, grass and trees growing along its bank.
A small herd of buffalo grazed peacefully, unaware of the violence headed their way.
Marcus adjusted to come in from downwind. The darkness concealed his black form. As he approached, he surprised a number of sleeping buffalo. Those he saw grazing were in the minority. The greatest number had been laying down. He looked for a calf, found one next to its mother, and he leapt onto its back.
The buffalo panicked, running every which way as the calf tried to dislodge the wolf perched on its back. The mother ran off with the others, leaving Marcus to fi
nish his kill and begin the feast.
* * *
James shook Terry Henry awake at what seemed like the middle of the night. “What happened?” he asked, brain fogged by the deep slumber from which he’d been roused.
“Nothing, sir. It’s your watch, now till morning. You and the major,” he whispered. Terry blinked to clear his eyes, finding Char wrapped in his blanket with her head on his chest. His shirt and the cool of the night protected him from the Werewolf’s heat. James dutifully avoided looking at how the two were intertwined.
Terry shook her, but she rolled over, pulling the covers tightly around her. “I’ll stand watch alone,” he told them, hating to change the plan because it seemed like he’d ordered them to do one thing while doing something else himself. “Belay that. Come on, Char, time to get up.”
She didn’t move, so he grabbed her shoulders and bodily picked her up, grunting with the effort. She was much denser than your average human. Terry ducked quickly, having seen her react before when getting wakened from a sound sleep.
Her elbow shot out with a hip twist to add power, just missing Terry’s head. He caught it to keep her from rotating backward in a counter blow. She struggled awake, staggered two steps away, and puked.
“That’s new,” he said, looking at her.
“I feel awful,” she said. “Oh no…”
Terry rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair, concern contorting his face.
She leaned close. “Going into heat,” she whispered. Terry stepped back, trying not to smile or panic.
“Umm,” was all he managed to say while looking everywhere but at her.
“Uh-huh,” she replied, glaring at him. “Just go away. I’ll deal with you later.”
Terry had no idea what that meant, but he had no intention of staying around to find out. He did the appropriately manly thing and ran for his life.
* * *
“My dearest Felicity, I’ve been thinking,” Billy started in a soft voice, smiling. Felicity was instantly skeptical.
“Now that sounds dangerous, Billy dear,” Felicity drawled, pulling the covers closer around her. “So what have you been thinking about?”
“The person who will take my place after I get old and pack it in,” he replied. He got ready to continue, but Felicity cut him off.
“Oh, Billy! I never thought you’d think of me as the next mayor! I am flattered and simply overwhelmed. I don’t know what to say, but I know how I can show my appreciation.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she crawled under the covers. The touch of her warm fingers convinced Billy that he shouldn’t continue with his previous train of thought.
That’s not what I meant, he thought, shaking his head and shelving the idea for the present. Maybe after he had her in his car…
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The false dawn was a welcome sight. Terry woke Geronimo to help him saddle the horses after Terry brought them together from grazing the riverbank. He hoped they had enough to eat and looked to Gerry for confirmation. The young man stroked their sides and then nodded.
“My pretty girls have had plenty,” he said happily, throwing a saddle onto one’s back and cinching it tightly. Then moving to the next. Terry lifted the ammunition-heavy saddle bags and put them on the two horses who wouldn’t carry riders that day. He and Char rode the same horses day after day because they were used to the Werewolf, while the others were still skittish around her.
The others roused, packed up, and prepared to leave.
“Char,” Terry called quietly. She materialized from the shadows and approached.
“Wow, you look normal!” he blurted out.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked. He realized his mistake too late, but he was a warrior, honed to a fine edge in battles past. He redirected.
“Is that Marcus?” he whispered. Char knew the alpha Werewolf wasn’t anywhere near, so she shook her head.
“We better go, keep on keeping on, and maybe we’ll find a settlement of some sort today. It’d be nice to accomplish the secondary mission of recruiting more bodies for New Boulder.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded. He walked away with a sense of urgency, hurriedly mounting his horse and waving the others to follow.
A Marine Corps lesson was to always look like you know what you’re doing and to do it like there is nothing more important at the moment. A busy Marine was a happy Marine, or so the leadership believed. If one didn’t look busy enough…
Clyde ran around looking for a place to go, so they all waited while the dog took care of business. As soon as he was done, Clyde did like all dogs and took off running.
Too bad it was in the wrong direction. Terry yelled at him until he turned and followed as they spurred their horses east toward the rising sun.
“When will you know if Marcus is following us?” Terry asked in a whisper.
“When he’s a few miles away. We won’t get much in the way of a heads up,” she replied. “I don’t sense anything, and riding into the wind doesn’t help. If he’s back there, he’ll find us before we find him.”
“That’s not quite the tactical position I was looking for.” Terry stroked his chin with one hand, feeling the stubble as he thought. He hadn’t shaved, opting to wear enough stubble to keep his face warm. It would only get colder, although the cold of the Wasteland already felt far warmer than the cold of New Boulder. He wondered what the climate was like, how it had changed in the past twenty years. He knew the baseline because he’d read the reports before the World’s Worst Day Ever, the WWDE.
He had no way to measure current temperatures to tell what the difference might be, but that wasn’t the same. He couldn’t get the average over a large area. He expected that his body had adapted and the climate was warmer overall. Did it snow out here? It probably didn’t anymore.
His curiosity piqued, he thought he’d look for a thermometer. If he could find one, he’d start taking the temperature as they passed through areas. He missed his studies. The world had been without academic research for too long.
“What was your major, Ivy League?” Terry asked.
“Ivy League? Leave it to a Marine to call it that. I majored in history,” she answered.
He grunted.
“What? Were you hoping for something else?” she retorted.
“No, not at all. I studied history as well. Love that stuff! Do you know anything about hard science, say, climatology?” he clarified.
“Yes. I had a boyfriend who was a weatherman on TV. He tried to convince me that he wasn’t just guessing. The jury is still out on that, although I recognized that with good data, the quality of the predictions improves. The challenge now is we have no data and no way to get it.”
“I think we can find a thermometer,” Terry offered.
“A thermometer? That’s your idea of data?” She paused a moment, taking it in. “I guess it’s better than nothing, but if we can find an all-in-one weather station, then maybe, just maybe, we can start to figure things out. Wait!” Char sat up straight and sniffed the air. The wind had changed and was blowing from the northwest.
“Marcus is coming,” Char whispered. Terry turned and looked, but the sun had not yet tipped from night. “He’s a long ways away and I smell something else, cows maybe? I think he just hunted. We need to hurry.”
The sun peeked over the horizon, starting its climb skyward. The barren land before them was disheartening. It appeared from the shadows, looking worse as it became better lit. When the sun stepped away from the land, the way ahead looked as bad as it could be. From the ditch of the South Platte River, sparse greenery fought against the blood red of the waste.
Terry stopped, picked Clyde up, and carried the poor dog, who was already struggling to keep up.
“We need to move!” Terry called to the others, not worried that he’d be heard because of the wind’s new direction. Terry kicked his horse into a trot, then a run as they sought the best footing through the Wastelands. Keeping the South Pl
atte close on their left side, they raced ahead, covering as much distance as possible in the cool of the morning.
When the wind changed direction again, Char lost all traces of the other Werewolf, but Terry was pleased regardless.
“He could not have spent any time in town if he’s close enough for you to smell him. That’s exactly what we wanted, but now that we know he’s coming, I feel good, excited even,” Terry confided. Char looked at him in surprise.
“You should be afraid,” she replied, face twisted, but her purple eyes almost glowed as energy surged within her.
“Save that!” Terry cautioned. “Funnel your emotions at the proper time. Focus the rage and use it to your advantage. He will be angry and out of control. We’ll use that against him as long as we get to pick the terrain of the battle. That’s my job. Yours is to practice and run and get faster and faster.”
Char looked at the wasted land ahead, wondering how in the hell Terry Henry Walton was going to find terrain to their advantage.
Terry figured the right battleground was on the other side of the great waste before them, hoping for more fertile land in what used to be Nebraska. He wanted to be there before nightfall, a good seventy-five miles from where they’d camped. If Marcus had run the whole way, he’d have to be tired. And that would be an advantage, too.
Char looked back as the sun painted the world behind them a deep red. She couldn’t see anything and couldn’t sense that he was close, but ahead, she felt the life essence of humans and livestock.
* * *
“Billy, I think we need to do a recon, go north and check things out, make sure that man has moved on,” Mark suggested.
“Did Terry Henry give you that much freedom? Does that make sense in any way?” Billy shot back. He’d been happy that Marcus left town without wreaking havoc, but he still didn’t want to see any more members of the security team disappear. Billy had already lost his security chief, Char, four others, and eight horses.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 28