Terry started with the leg wound. The bullet had passed through the man’s thigh, leaving a clean entry wound and a mostly clean exit wound, although there was some ripping of the skin on the way out as the bullet tumbled going through. The chest wound was little more than an ugly scratch.
“Water,” Terry called and held out his hand. Someone stuffed a water flask into it. He poured carefully, a little at a time as water was always scarce, even this close to a river.
Spartacus knuckled down and although he winced and gasped, Terry was able to continue without issue, sewing both the entry and exit wounds closed. He wrapped the leg in a piece of cloth they carried specifically to use as a bandage. He decided the chest wound needed wrapping but not stitches, and he took care of that.
“Help him,” Terry ordered calmly. Gerry took one arm and Lacy the other to help the young man up. James had an armload of various items he’d taken from the dead. Spartacus’s eyes shot wide and he started to stammer.
“Relax,” Terry told him. “We don’t steal. We’ll take this stuff back to your people and leave it there for them. It doesn’t belong to us and it’s of no use to them anymore, either.” Terry pointed nonchalantly to the dead, then he waved at the overwatch to join them as the group headed back to the settlement.
“What’s this place called?” Char asked Spartacus. He looked at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Char’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “I asked you a question!”
“I ain’t never seen purple eyes before. I’m sorry. It’s called Kansas City,” the man replied.
There was no city, just a small number of ramshackle huts. Terry couldn’t figure where forty people were stashed.
When Terry tried to lead the group back to the huts where they’d encountered Spartacus and the other toughs the day prior, the young man shook his head and pointed in a different direction. “You lead then,” Terry ordered.
With a wince, Spartacus headed over a hill and along its crest until he came to a stream. He followed this to a bluff where he showed them a door. “It leads to a bunch of caves, all linked together. Keeps us safe from the tornadoes and such, plus it’s cool down there. Not much living can be done up here.” Terry took a moment and looked around him at the Wastelands and agreed.
Not much living could be done in the Wastelands, but it was green alongside the river where trees and grass grew.
Spartacus opened the door quickly and Terry dove one way, Char the other, and James and his squad dropped to a knee and took aim. Spartacus let the door go as he struggled to raise his hands over his head. The door slammed shut.
“What the hell was that?” James demanded.
“The wind holds the door shut. You have to pull on it really hard to get it to open.” Terry stood and brushed himself off. He waved Spartacus, Gerry, and Lacy to the side as he pulled on the door.
“A significant variation in the air pressure creates a suction,” Terry instructed. The others looked at him blankly. They had no idea what he was saying, but Char nodded. Terry held the door so Spartacus could be first in.
The three of them struggled to get through the door together. “Whoa!” Gerry exclaimed. “Nice and cool in here.”
“James, you and the rest of your squad stay here and guard the door. We won’t be too long,” Terry said. James looked past the colonel to Lacy. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to her, at least not without one hell of a fight.”
It was the best promise Terry could make.
Clyde tried to join the group heading inside. “I’m sorry, buddy, you need to stay out here,” Terry told the dog, but Clyde was having none of it, starting to whimper and looking to Char for support. “Fine.”
The dog ran past them and into the cave mouth.
James nodded slightly and turned, surveying their position. “Can we rotate people through the cool of the indoors?” he asked.
“Your call,” Terry answered as he followed Char through the door.
***
“I love it here!” Ted said as he waved at the small man to bring him another drink.
“You are such a moron,” Timmons said while cradling his own beverage.
After spending six months on the grounds of what used to be the Air Force Academy, the pack headed southeast through the Wastelands of old Texas and into the perpetual Wastelands of Mexico, where they made their way to the Yucatan Peninsula and the old resort areas.
Most people had died or fled elsewhere, but those who remained had carved out a mini-paradise. There was a major settlement in Cancun, complete with electric power provided by the wave generators and solar systems that had been installed before the fall.
A group of engineers attending a conference at the time of the World’s Worst Day Ever, found themselves trapped in paradise. They used available resources to rebuild Cancun in a way that suited them, with power, utilities like fresh water, allowing them to establish a new way of life that kept the old luxuries alive. They consolidated hotels, abandoning many to provide the resources and staff those closer to the functioning power centers.
The hunters were few and the fishermen many. They converted the tourist sailing ships to fishing ships and that was how they provided for the population. Twenty-two years after the fall, Timmons reasoned that Cancun was probably the most modern city in the world. The barter economy was in full effect, people trading food for services, and it all worked.
They even brewed their own alcohol.
The pack had done some hunting in the marshes outside of the resort to bring deer and peccari, a small pig-like animal, to the market for trade. This type of meat had become a delicacy since it was so difficult to come by. No one had rifles or even bows and arrows anymore. The residents of Cancun hunted using mostly snares, but they weren’t the best for catching the bigger game.
The pack had none of those problems. A jaguar challenged them once, but quickly discovered how much it was outmatched. The creature’s hide was added to the day’s take. The markets were pleased and responded kindly with food and drink.
“Why am I a moron? This is the life, isn’t it?” Ted asked.
“You’re a moron because we’ll starve if we stay here. I want meat, red meat. I want elk and as much as I can stuff down my face. We’re growing soft here. Look at us.” Timmons pointed to the others sleeping on the lounge chairs on the beach while normal humans ogled them as they walked by. Timmons shook his head.
Two years later and the pack still hadn’t accepted him as the alpha. “We need to go back to New Boulder, find Char and find Marcus.”
“I’m not sure the others will go for that,” Ted said nonchalantly.
A sail appeared on the horizon. A large boat, heading toward them. The Werewolves, as one, shot straight up in their chairs.
A Forsaken was coming.
“We need to go, now!” Timmons yelled. The others jumped from their chairs and headed for the hotel to get their clothes. “No time!”
Timmons steered them away as they ran at inhuman speed from the town toward the interior of the Yucatan and away. They didn’t know why the Forsaken was coming, but the best place to be when he arrived was someplace else. They hoped he didn’t decide to follow them.
CHAPTER TWO
Gerry and Lacy supported Spartacus as he limped downward, leading Terry and the others along a well-traveled path. Greasy-burning candles placed at random intervals showed the way. The light was dim but enough once the eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Terry and Char saw quite well by the candlelight. They used their heightened senses to scan side passages as they descended into the caves. It became cooler and cooler in a good way the lower they went. Dripping water and humid air left a green slime on the walls.
Clyde didn’t seem to have any problems as he’d run ahead a few steps, take a second to pee on the wall, wait for the others to catch up, then run ahead again.
Char sniffed continuously, trying to discover what smelled different. Terry looked at her, and sh
e shook her head. She wasn’t sure what it was. Terry couldn’t sense anything threatening, but he was nothing like Char. She could feel vibrations with her heightened senses, know how many people were around, what they were doing.
He could see to the next turn.
The group shuffled ahead until the tunnel opened up to a much larger cavern where a central fire burned brightly. Numerous cave mouths were covered by blankets and other wall hangings. The underground village.
Terry put a hand on the young man’s shoulder to keep him from dragging them into the middle of the large space. “We’ll wait here. Who should we talk to?”
Spartacus looked back then into the space and spoke in a normal voice, though the acoustics of the cavern helped the sound to carry. “Millie. Could we speak with you please?”
“So, Millie it is. What kind of person is this?” Terry whispered. Char scowled and continued to sniff the air. Geronimo and Lacy squinted as they looked about, trying to assess the tactical situation. “Let him go.”
Gerry and Lacy immediately let go of Spartacus, who teetered and almost fell with the return of his full weight to his injured leg. He stumbled a few steps into the wall where he panted from his efforts. The two members of the Force each took a knee and aimed their rifles into the cavern.
“Relax. Weapons tight,” Terry cautioned. The two lowered their AK-47s, but each maintained a field of fire to cover exactly half the cavern. They looked from one wall to the center and back again, waving their barrels in a figure eight, keeping them close to their line of sight.
Terry kept his hand on his M-4 rifle, although his ammunition was growing dangerously low. Char’s arms hung loosely at her sides within easy reach of her two Glock 9mm pistols.
Blankets were thrown aside as people started emerging from their cubby holes. They stopped when they saw the newcomers with Spartacus.
“What is this, Sparty? Who are these people?” an older woman asked in a low voice.
The young man looked to Terry. “I’ll take it from here, Sparty,” he told him.
“My name is Terry Henry Walton and we come from what used to be Boulder, Colorado, not that any of that means anything anymore. We’re here looking for people who might like something better. We have power and running water. What we don’t have is enough people to do everything that needs to be done. It’s a chance to make a new life rebuilding civilization. If you don’t want to go with us, that’s fine. We’ll leave directions on how to get there, but I’d like to talk further with whoever is in charge, show our sincerity,” Terry said in a normal tone, nodding as he talked.
“No one here is in charge,” the old woman replied. “They were outside, defending our home that you seem to have invaded. You have guns and can see that we’re unarmed. Maybe you should wait for our people to get back. They left early this morning. Sparty! You were with them. Where are they?”
“All dead, Millie. They’re all dead. These people killed them as if it was nothin’. I’d be dead, too, but they said I was lucky.” Sparty looked at Terry, while leaning away from him, defensively avoiding the expected blow. Terry and Char both smiled at the young man. Clyde wagged his tail, expecting to meet new friends.
“That’s right. We asked to talk and they responded by coming after us. We don’t take aggression well, so there we have it. You are now free to live your lives out from under their yoke,” Terry said magnanimously.
“You bastards!” the old lady cried. “Two of those were my kids!”
“And one of mine,” another bawled.
“This may not have been your best plan, TH,” Char whispered, chuckling out of sight of the others. Terry grimaced and started chewing on the inside of his cheek.
The first rock hit the wall above Lacy’s head. Gerry used his rifle barrel to deflect the next one. “Hold your fire!” Terry commanded in a voice that echoed throughout the cavern. The locals only hesitated briefly before picking up more rocks to throw. If you hit my dog, I will fucking kill you all, Terry thought, snarling.
Terry pulled his bullwhip and cracked it back and forth in front of the townspeople. “Settle the fuck down!” he bellowed. With the echoes, his words were mostly lost. But the people stopped.
Stalemate.
“The natives are restless,” Char offered in a voice so soft that only Terry could hear it.
“If you want to bury your dead, Spartacus can show you where they attacked us,” Terry said coldly, glaring at the old woman. “We’ll take our leave of you. Please, don’t throw any more rocks. I’ve had enough.”
The old woman reared back and threw her projectile at Terry. Terry was going to let it bounce off his chest as all he wanted to do was leave, but Char reached in front of him and caught the rock. She walked down the small slope and stopped an arm’s-length from the old woman. Char dropped the rock on the other woman’s foot, helping it along so that the old woman howled in pain and started hopping around.
Char looked the men in the eye, from one to the next. None of them would raise a hand against the raving beauty before them, her purple eyes glowing faintly in the relative darkness. The old woman recovered enough to try and push Char, but the Werewolf caught her hands, twisted them around until the old woman was backward, and threw her bodily to the cave floor.
“Anyone tries to follow us? Say goodbye right now because they won’t be coming back. You people are too stupid to save.” Char turned to walk away, but one of the men grabbed her arm. He could have been the old woman’s husband. He seemed the right age. It didn’t matter to Char. She didn’t like to be grabbed.
Char seized his hand and crushed it in hers, yanking him toward her and head-butting his face. As he was falling backward, she pulled him back toward her, having not let go of his hand. She ducked, threw him onto her shoulder, stood up straight, then bent over, body slamming the old man on the rocks. The sound of a melon smacking the ground suggested that the man’s head may have lost the fight with the stone.
She crouched and snarled at the others, then relaxed, turned, and walked away. Char hesitated as she passed Spartacus and pointed a finger in his face. “Help them pull their heads out of their asses,” she told him, then continued up the slope on her way out of the cave. Terry waved Gerry and Lacy after her while he brought up the rear.
He was going to tell them to have a nice day, but thought better of it, so he simply waved as he backed into the tunnel and jogged after the others, hurrying Clyde as he went.
When they left the cave, the door shut securely behind them, Terry looked at Char. She shrugged. “I guess that could have gone better,” he said. Gerry and Lacy nodded. “Back to the horses and mount up! We’re going home.”
***
Felicity sat in the passenger seat. The convertible top was long gone, but that didn’t matter. The old roadster was rumbling as Billy Spires carefully shifted from first to second gear. He drove slowly as the roads hadn’t been repaired in a long, long time. But they hadn’t been used during that time either, except by horses and people walking.
Billy and Felicity were taking their weekly drive past the greenhouses and into the plains beyond, to the edge of the Wastelands where they could look upon it to better appreciate what they had in New Boulder. Billy parked at the top of a small hill. He’d roll it to get the car restarted and lessen the strain on the battery. It was what they always did.
“They’re out there, finding us more people,” Billy said softly as Felicity reached into the small backseat to pull out a sleeping bundle. She never understood how the baby could sleep through the racket that Billy’s car made, but she fell asleep every single time as soon as they started driving.
“You take after your momma, don’t you, precious,” Felicity cooed. Billy traced a finger through the baby’s white hair. At two months, she wasn’t sleeping through the night yet, but it hadn’t been too bad. It took Billy a long time to convince Felicity to start a family. Little Marcie wasn’t the only newborn in the town.
Children were arriv
ing monthly now that food had stopped being scarce with the addition of the people from Brownsville. They put New Boulder over the top in being able to produce more than they ate. When the Weathers family arrived with their small herd of cattle, that took it to the next level. The herd had grown over the past couple years and although they couldn’t eat beef every night, they’d get it often enough that craving a good steak was something to look forward to rather than lament.
Billy held the baby for a bit as they sat and watched. The sun was headed over the mountains behind them. Billy handed Marcie back and put the roadster into first gear. He pushed in the clutch, let off the brake, and the car began to roll. When it approached ten miles an hour, Felicity braced herself as Billy popped the clutch, barking the tires as the engine rumbled to life.
He pushed the clutch back in, tickled the gas pedal, and then shifted into second gear for a smooth transition as they leisurely headed back to the garage. They waved at people heading home after a long day in the fields.
“People seem happy,” Billy said loudly to be heard over the sound of the engine.
“Of course they are, Billy dear,” Felicity replied, leaning toward Billy, almost yelling. “Isn’t this what civilization is supposed to be all about?”
The mayor drove on without answering. When Terry Henry arrived, this was part of what he envisioned. People with purpose, without worrying about their next meal or if raiders were coming to take what little they had. New Boulder was peaceful. Terry had pushed the city’s boundaries to the four corners of Colorado. There wasn’t a group anywhere that was organized sufficiently to challenge the people in New Boulder.
The Force de Guerre numbered twenty-five with eight of those on the road with Terry and Char. That left seventeen to protect and defend Billy’s town from anything unknown.
The last two years had been peaceful. Two hundred and fifty people now called New Boulder home, and they accepted Billy as their mayor without question.
Nomad Unleashed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 3) Page 2