“No,” he replied. “Next time it shuts down, it won’t come back up, no matter how much we want it to.”
Terry signaled for Mark to form the platoon outside.
“Sergeant. Take the platoon and return to the barracks. Three days’ liberty—do as you please. On the fourth morning from now, be ready at daybreak for PT. I’ll want to meet with the platoon leadership the day before. You and the other squad leaders are invited to our house for dinner, the night before. Don’t be late. Dismissed!” Terry ordered.
“Look at you, all military like,” Char purred. Terry wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but he was ready for more Klingon role-playing.
Timmons stood an arm’s-length away, watching but not saying anything.
“Yes?” Char asked.
“Is there a place for us to stay?” he asked.
“That is a good question,” Char declared. She had no answer. Terry shrugged.
“Let’s go see Billy. That’s his department,” Terry suggested.
They left as a group—Terry, eight Werewolves, and one dog. Sue had taken a liking to Clyde, so he walked at her side. Terry was a little put out, but Char brushed it off. “I love that dog, that little turncoat!”
“Someone to watch him and take good care of him when we go check out Chicago,” she offered.
“Indeed. We have a plan to come up with and three days to do it.” Terry stared into the distance as his mind raced through the options. Char had lost him for the meantime. She let him walk mindlessly forward as she joined Timmons and the others.
“Let me explain the Force de Guerre to you…” she started.
***
Terry and Char were looking forward to some time alone, but that never materialized. There were emergencies in the greenhouses, with the cattle, and with the hunting. When Terry and Char showed up to help, the Force was already there, getting their hands dirty.
Terry could not have been more proud. They took their time off to help others. It was the right thing to do.
It was the honorable thing to do.
“Knights of the Round Table all,” Char told him.
“And you, too, Sir Noballs,” Terry said and bowed.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” She pushed him down, and he rolled, jumping easily back to his feet. She raised her hands in a boxer’s stance and waded into the fight.
The Force gathered around to watch, finding the sparring matches between the colonel and the major to be not only enlightening, but entertaining, too.
Char jabbed repeatedly with her left, so fast that her punches were just a blur. Terry blocked each of them without moving his head. His hands whirled like a hummingbird’s wings as he beat off attack after attack. This went on for only a minute but hundreds and hundreds of punches had been thrown.
Char dropped to the ground and swept one leg around to send her partner to the ground, but Terry leapt over the leg and toward Char. He rotated at his waist and drove his fist toward her face with the power of a pile driver.
He landed straddling her, stopping his punch a hair from her cheek. Even though they were always training, he found that he could no longer hit her. She wasn’t a sparring partner, but the love of his life. He froze in place, then slowly stood up and unclenched his fist, flexing his fingers. His hand shook.
Char crawled to her feet and stood before Terry Henry. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“We’re both faster than we were, scary fast, and I can’t hit you anymore. I know it’s training and that we’ll heal, but I think I could really hurt you and that scares me the most,” Terry confided.
The other Werewolves were nowhere to be seen, so Terry didn’t worry about being overheard. They didn’t need to know that both his and Char’s enhancements had become supercharged. That was a recent development, and neither understood it.
Not yet.
She tapped a finger to her mouth, before her eyes drew together staring at him, “I can feel it, too. My senses are heightened far beyond those of any other Werewolf. Damn you, TH! We could have had this two years ago if you hadn’t been such a puritan.”
“You pronounced ‘man of honor’ wrong,” he joked. “I know, two years wasted, and I’ll never live it down. All I can do is try to make it up to you. Do you like jewelry?”
“You like me with scars!”
“Actually, I was thinking more along the line of diamonds in a platinum setting.” Terry had no way of acquiring such a thing. That stuff was long buried in the dust of the Wastelands, having not served a useful purpose for survival.
Food and water. Shelter. Weapons. And that was how Terry Henry Walton survived twenty years, bringing him to this point in his life.
“Let’s go talk with Billy,” Terry said determinedly. His demeanor changed, became more focused. “We need to pave the way for the town to move. I can see it all. North to Canada, then east, then back south until we find what we’re looking for on the shore of Lake Michigan. We’re taking a few from the pack, a few from the FDG, and we’re going to find what Akio believes we need to find.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
“You know, Ted is going to be a pain in the ass the entire time you’re on the road,” Timmons said.
“That’s why you’re going too, because of your experience in dealing with him,” Terry countered. The smug look on the Werewolf’s face disappeared. “We’ll bring James, Lacy, and Geronimo, too. That’ll round us out. I hope you don’t mind riding a horse. They’ve grown used to Were folk, so they shouldn’t be too skittish.”
The real reason they were taking Timmons was that without Char, he’d probably try to take over the town, and they couldn’t have that.
They walked out back of the barracks to select their horses to see which ones would let the newly arrived Werewolves ride them. The bear cub went nuts when the Were pack showed up. He’d been good with Char, but not with the rest of the pack. He growled and stood on his back legs, pawing at the air as he snapped his jaws at them.
“Interesting,” Terry said, and he walked past the enclosure to get to the stable. The Force de Guerre maintained sixteen horses, and Terry was going to take eight of them on his trek around the Wastelands.
It was hard traveling to force their way straight through the waste, but if they skirted the mountains heading north, they’d maintain the advantage of good hunting and better weather until they were far enough to avoid the worst of the heat. Then they’d head east.
Terry wasn’t worried about the open country but the metropolis concerned him. From Milwaukee all the way to the heart of Chicago was one solid urban area. What would remain from before? What would be new?
Maybe he was more curious than worried. He also wanted to know the extent of his new strength, his new power. It was as if he had the combined abilities of a boosted human and a Werewolf. He expected Char was the same. Could they be unstoppable?
What if they ran across a Forsaken? The pack had told them that one arrived in Cancun, and that was why they’d run. Terry knew that he was supposed to be afraid of them, but with Char at his side, could he challenge one and win?
No. He didn’t want to learn the answer to that. He caressed the small comm device he always carried with him. That was how he would handle a Forsaken if the need arose. Akio and his people would come. They could deal with the others. All Terry and Char had to do was hide in the daylight.
If it were only that easy. He yelled at the pack to ‘stop being a bunch of ack-jasses’ and stop taunting the grizzly cub. They reluctantly joined him after the poor cub had worked itself into a lather. Blackie climbed into the enclosure to settle the creature down.
Terry led the pack past the stable and the horses went ballistic, rearing and pulling at their leads, eyes wide in terror. Clyde barked and ran around, further stirring up trouble.
“Get back!” Terry yelled at the pack. He made a lazy kick toward Clyde to let him know that his services weren’t needed at present. The eight Werewolves backed away
until the horses started to calm. Gerry appeared out of thin air, looking angrily at the group. He and, oddly enough, Char worked with the horses to calm them. “We’ll do it one at a time. Ted, you first.”
Ted approached the horses and they remained calm. He even petted a few noses. They seemed indifferent to him.
Then Timmons. It wasn’t the pack that set them off, it was Timmons. The horses freaked as he approached. Not a single one would settle enough for him to get close to touching them.
Char stroked her chin in thought, then shrugged. “Fine,” she said.
Timmons looked happy with himself.
“You’ll just have to run the whole way,” Char added. He looked crushed. “What? You thought I’d leave you here because the horses don’t like you? I don’t fucking like you, but you’re still coming. When you’ve completely earned my trust, then I’ll leave you behind, not one red second before that.”
“Gerry, it looks like we’ll only need five horses from here, not six. We’ll ride ours and that’ll be that. If they ever get used to Timmons, then maybe he’ll ride. Until then, he runs,” Terry ordered.
***
“This is some bullshit!” Timmons complained to the others when they were back in the house they’d been given.
“I think you need to shut your pie hole!” Sue told him. “We have a new life here, and I like it!”
Clyde was on her lap, getting petted, kissed, and fed a continuous stream of treats. Terry had left him with her because it was too long of a trip to take him and Terry wanted to know that he’d be okay. Sue was on her trial run, so she wanted to make a good impression with the alphas. The group wasn’t heading out until the next morning. Terry was prepared to take the dog with them if Clyde didn’t get along well enough with Sue.
She wasn’t going to let that be a problem as she coddled Clyde. He was living it up at Aunt Sue’s house. It would probably take a pry bar to get him out of there.
“My new life sucks,” Timmons grumbled.
“You’re just pissed that your alpha aspirations went poof in a cloud of dust as a human body-slammed your weak shit into the ground. He stomped a mud hole in your ass, all right,” Adams offered, unconcerned about getting on Timmons’s bad side. The Werewolf was leaving for a couple months. He’d forget all about the rest of them after being on the receiving end of any bitch duty that Char had for him.
“He ain’t human! How many times do I have to tell you that?” Timmons stomped around the room while the others sat on various mismatched pieces of furniture. An old, droopy couch seemed to be the favorite. Xandrie, Shonna, and Ted had melted into its cushions.
“Of course he’s human, but he’s boosted or probably something even greater than that. If a Vampire comes for a visit? Yeah, he’s different and I suggest no one else cross him. That hurt like a mother fucker!” Timmons rubbed his chest to emphasize his pain.
The others chuckled at Timmons’s self-deprecation. He smiled, too. They had let him live when by all rights, he had challenged the alpha, twice now, and survived both encounters.
“I know, I’m living on borrowed time, but son of a bitch, we just got here and already, I’m back to running.”
Ted smirked and waved his hand. “Maybe a good bath will help your equine sex appeal?”
“Bring flowers and chocolates next time,” Xandrie suggested.
“Bended knee. Don’t forget how romantic that could be,” Shonna chimed in.
“Gently caress the horse’s soft nose, whispering tenderly into its ear,” Adams offered.
“Very funny, but I need to do something. If she thinks I’m running all the way to Chicago, she’s high!”
“And you’ll do as the alpha orders, even if it is to run all the way to Chicago,” Ted said seriously.
“Yeah, you know I will. Cats may have nine lives, but Werewolves are only supposed to have one. I’m on my third right now, so let’s see if we can milk this one. I guess as long as I’m not starving, it’ll be okay,” Timmons conceded, but his words didn’t match how he really felt.
“Or roasting and starving, like you did to us!” Xandrie threw out.
“But look at you now! You like the new digs and your new gigs. You all have something to do, people to work with, and food that you didn’t have to hunt down yourself. If we must share a life with humans, let it be one where they are moving closer to bringing the modern world back.”
“You were a madman during the disco era,” Xandrie taunted. Timmons made a couple moves, spun, and then assumed his best John Travolta pose, while doing the Elvis lip curl.
Things could definitely have been a lot worse.
***
“Why is Terry Henry so fixated on going to Chicago?” Billy asked. Felicity started to shrug, but stopped. She thought she knew.
“The heat is going to kill us, Billy dear,” Felicity drawled. “The reservoirs are the lowest they’ve ever been. If next year is like this one, we won’t be able to grow anything. No green fields. No life.”
“And TH knew all this when he first got here. He’s been working toward finding a new place since day one. He’s been building his FDG to protect us, kind of, but he named it, the War Force. That doesn’t sound like security or defense. He means to take the fight someplace else. Maybe there’s a group in Chicago just like us. He’s ready to fight them for what they have, but I expect he’ll try to talk with them first. What if he agrees to a partnership? What role would I have?” Billy was working himself up.
He didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t the mayor. He wasn’t sure he could take orders from someone else.
“I expect that Terry Henry and that dreamy-looking group of Werewolves will make sure that we, all of us, are taken care of. And what role is more important than father and husband?” she asked as she worked her way close to Billy Spires.
“But, mayor, father, and husband are all my job,” he replied. “They are all me. Not sure I’m willing to give any of them up.” He sat in his chair and sulked.
Felicity smiled at him. “I think Terry knows what you need to do. He knew what you were good at before you did. I can’t wait to see what adventure is next, Billy Spires.”
Billy wasn’t sure, but there was nothing he could do about it. If they stayed, they would die. Terry was searching for the lifeline to throw to their growing community.
Before it was too late.
“So, we hang on for the ride? Just like we have been from the day that cock…sorry, that gentleman arrived…”
“We hang on for the ride, Billy. We just hang on.” Felicity looked at their young daughter, knowing that she was putting her baby’s life in Terry Henry Walton’s hands. In his hands and those of the people he surrounded himself with, even if they weren’t people.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“Why are you still fucking around?” Terry asked Timmons. He’d wanted to turn into a Werewolf, but Char told him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t until they were well outside the town and beyond where any of the townsfolk could see.
Terry sat in his saddle, a little hunched as he waited impatiently. He had an AK-47 slung over his shoulder. It wouldn’t do to try and milk the last four rounds for his preferred M4. With the AK, he had enough ammunition to fire a full magazine every single day for the next month. What he lacked in quality, he’d make up for in quantity. James, Lacy, and Gerry carried AKs with full ammunition loadouts, too. They could all share and that was a benefit, too.
Terry begrudgingly agreed that it was best to standardize. He still carried his bullwhip and knives, of course, because those were his personal weapons.
Char carried her two Glock pistols, the holsters hanging from a pistol belt cinched around her waist. Neither Timmons nor Ted were given any weapons, and they didn’t have any problem with that. Timmons thought he was plenty deadly in Were form and Ted was the hippie. He was a Werewolf and loved raw meat, but it wouldn’t bother him if he never had to kill anything again.
Clyde barked from th
e doorway, but didn’t bother to run outside to wish Terry off. “You are such a sandy little butthole,” Terry told the dog. Clyde wagged his tail so hard it pounded both the door and Sue’s leg. She continued to scratch behind his ears. He leaned into her hand, drawing his lips backward in a dog smile.
“He’s in good hands,” Char said in a low voice, watching to see if Terry was actually going to cry. “Stop it! You know he’s better off here.”
Char turned her horse and waved the group forward. The sun was just starting to rise on an early September morning. Timmons looked out of place walking quickly beside Char. Gerry pulled the spare horse behind him, while James and Lacy rode side by side. They were always wary, but wouldn’t assume a tactical formation until they were away from familiar ground.
Terry turned his mare’s head and trotted after the group. He waved goodbye.
“I’m going back to bed,” Merrit said. Sue contemplated that, then approved. Char had left her in charge of the pack with the instructions to integrate into the community as much as possible. Make themselves useful for the greater good or there would be hell to pay when Char returned.
No one wanted to see what that meant.
Terry adeptly pulled his horse into position next to Char, and they rode north in silence. They’d keep heading north, into what used to be Wyoming and then Montana.
At least there wouldn’t be a fence or a wall at the Canadian border, unlike the megalith on the border with Mexico. It had been blown in places, but was still a formidable obstacle. In the end days, there was nowhere to go. People passed each other in the night. Just as many were headed south as were headed into the United States. Both were leaving a bad situation and heading into one that was no better. The great wall. The wall that, in the end, didn’t matter.
The real enemy came through embedded code, fiber optic cable, and over the air waves. Finally, nothing could stop the nuclear-tipped missiles.
“Shit!” Terry said out of the blue.
“What?” Char asked.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 47