They could move with impunity and do as they wish. There was no one to stop them.
Timmons sure as hell wasn’t going to try. He did not have a death wish, although his efforts to become the alpha could have been misconstrued. He was willing to risk it. It had been years since they heard from Marcus and with each passing day, Timmons thought it less and less likely that the alpha would return. Could it have been possible that Char bested him in a fight for dominance?
Maybe the human that she attached herself to had helped. Or, in his rage, he fell over a cliff and was crushed in a rockslide. That was probably the more likely scenario. Marcus had been the most ferocious Werewolf alive, as far as Timmons knew. There was no greater fighter in the Were world.
Timmons didn’t know any Were-bears. He knew Marcus, and that he was one mean bastard.
CHAPTER FOUR
Terry lay with his head on Char’s chest as he finished the story of his life with Melissa and the abyss that he cast himself into afterwards.
She tipped his head up.
“It’s a whole new world, TH,” she purred. “You are one of King Arthur’s knights, honorable, fiercely loyal, and dedicated to a fault. Let me turn the table so you can be free to be yourself. Terry Henry Walton, will you be my husband?”
Terry pulled back. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one who asks that?”
“Then why don’t you? What’s keeping you from me, TH?”
“Twenty-two years is long enough, I guess,” he started.
“You guess?” Char interrupted. He put a finger to her lips, caressing them.
“I can’t imagine a tomorrow where you aren’t at my side. We have waited long enough, and I am free, finally, thanks to you. I love you, Charumati, and I accept. I want nothing more than to be your husband.” Tears made Terry’s eyes glisten, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them run down his face.
He was an old man, for piss sake.
Char started pulling her clothes off and the rush was on. Terry stood up and started unfastening, unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping everything on his person. It was tossed in an unceremonious pile as Char jumped on him, making him stagger as he held her tightly, her skin blazing hot against his.
And he didn’t care that he started to sweat. They’ll find my body shriveled with a big stupid smile on my face, Terry thought before giving himself completely.
***
“Why are we going back to Colorado?” Xandrie whined.
“We need to find out what happened to Marcus and Char,” Timmons stated firmly.
“Are we there yet?” Ted asked.
“Fucking walking all the way back. We should have made sure before we left,” Adams added.
“Fuck you, whiny bitches!” Timmons snarled, keeping his head down as he stumbled forward on the old, broken road.
“Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?” Shonna chimed in.
“Bitch!” Timmons shot back.
“I don’t think we’re there yet,” Ted stated, looking around.
“Of fucking course we’re not fucking there yet, you stupid fuck!” Timmons had lost all patience. “We haven’t even left the Yucatan!”
“But we don’t tan,” Sue replied, suddenly confused.
“At least they had booze in Cancun. What the hell are we going to drink in Colorado?” Merrit wondered.
“Alcohol doesn’t affect us, you dumbass! Who cares if they had drinks?” Timmons stopped walking and stood with his fists raised. “I will beat the crap out of the next dumbass who opens his mouth.”
Sue turned to Xandrie. “I’m glad he wasn’t talking to us.”
“You, too, bitch!” Timmons clarified.
“Maybe you should change into a wolf so you can lick your own balls. That is what you want, isn’t it?” Xandrie challenged.
She’d had enough, too.
Timmons sauntered toward her, pointing a finger at her and sneering. When he got close enough, she kicked him square in the groin.
“Who’s the bitch now, bitch?” she taunted as Timmons rolled on the ground, holding himself and making funny noises. “Shall we, ladies?” Xandrie held out her arms and the other two She-Wolves took them as they stepped past Timmons and strolled up the road. The Werewolves were all still naked in human form as they had yet to find any clothes. They’d changed in order to bathe so they could better hunt. As the women walked, they transformed into Werewolves, hairy and big. They started loping away, following the road, expecting that the men would catch up.
“Maybe we’ll get there tomorrow,” Ted said, licking a finger and holding it up to the wind.
“We’re not going to get there tomorrow, dumbass,” Timmons grumbled, still holding his violated man-parts as he struggled to his feet.
***
Mark knew his limitations. He couldn’t go into the mountains alone like the colonel or the major, but he didn’t have to. He was a sergeant now, in charge of those left behind to protect and defend New Boulder. His people were blending in with each other, thinking alike as they maneuvered through the incessant trials that the colonel and the major put them through.
The squads moved as one.
“Nightwatch!” Mark yelled at the barracks. “Form the platoon!”
The men stumbled out of the barracks half-dressed. It was early morning and still dark. They’d been sleeping. Ivan stayed up through the night to ensure that the barracks didn’t get any nasty surprises. He stood the night watch every night and the Force appreciated his contribution. They knew that he got the least sleep out of all of them.
But he didn’t complain. He soldiered on in the best interest of the Force de Guerre.
The men recovered quickly and stood tall in two ranks of seven each. James and his second squad were on the road with Colonel Walton and Major Charumati. That left Mark with first squad and Blackbeard with third squad. While Mark filled the role of platoon sergeant, he temporarily moved Jim into the squad leader position. The big man stood tall and proud at the front of the formation. He was a little slower to learn things than the others, but once he had something, he embraced it fully.
Jim saluted and reported all present, followed by Blackbeard. Mark returned their salutes, acknowledging their reports.
“Who’s the best tracker we have?” Mark asked the formation, although he already knew the answer.
“Here, sir!” Blackie called out. No one questioned him. When Sawyer Brown found him he’d been half-feral. He was small from being malnourished for half his life.
But he was hard, could run for days without getting tired. He could carry his bodyweight without wearing down. The only thing he needed was a chance, the one thing that Terry Henry had given him, a chance and nothing else.
“Jim! On my command, you will fall out and carry out the plan of the day. Fall out!” Jim’s squad executed a right face and marched back toward the barracks, which was just the old house that the colonel had designated as the barracks a long time ago.
“Bring it in!” Mark called to Blackie and his six people, rough men all, sharp-eyed and hard, from having enough food and working out like fiends. They spent four to six hours every day in fitness training.
Every day. And then they worked in the fields, in the plant, with the horses, wherever they were needed most. And finally when they were near exhaustion, they trained in tactical maneuvers, squad operations, and individual combat skills.
When the colonel was in town, they studied as well. He’d taught them all how to read and write. He told them that a good education would put them one step ahead of any enemy. Their minds were the greatest weapon they possessed.
“Gentlemen, here’s the five paragraph order. The situation is that we have a missing hunter, somewhere in the mountains west of here. Our mission is to find him and recover him if he’s alive and his gear if he’s not. Execution is we’ll take one squad, Blackie will track the hunter and we’ll maintain a line abreast in trace of our tracker. Admin and logistics are that we’ll go silent
ly on horse as far as possible, our tracker’s call. We will carry what we need for two days’ excursion, full ammo loadout, all hands carrying our standard rifle. Command and signal is that we’ll use standard hand and arm signals. Verbal communication will be used in emergencies only. Simple as that. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Load up,” Mark ordered.
***
Terry Henry didn’t want to let go of Char, but they had to butcher the pig and meet the convoy. She stood, pulling him to his feet where they embraced, nuzzling each other’s neck.
Terry took her face in both his hands, caressing her cheeks, then looking more closely. “Your scar is healing,” he said, surprised at what he was seeing.
“Maybe your nanocytes are doing what mine could not?” she asked, before pushing him away one arm cocked, hand on her hip. “Hey, ass-face! You let me walk around like this for two years when all it would have taken was a little chicky-bow-wow, wham bam and now you’re healed, ma’am?”
“How was I supposed to know?” Terry asked, smiling liking a high school boy after his first time.
“I forgive you. This time.” Char was smiling, too. “Would you look at that?” The road rash-looking injury on her forearm from where Terry’s silvered blade touched her was healing, too.
She took a step closer, “I wonder if round two will make it heal even faster?” She pressed her naked body against his.
Electricity sparked, and Terry’s head began to swim. He shook it to clear his vision. Char was blinking, too. She punched him in the chest, making him stagger backwards. “Don’t you ever waste two years like that again, Terry Henry Walton. I’ll have your hide hung outside Margie Rose’s house with your head on a pig pole! We have what—one hundred, two hundred years left is all?”
Terry chuckled as he reached for his clothes. The sound of horses nearby was unmistakable. He handed Char her clothes. “No matter what, let’s not waste the next two hundred years. Before you know it, it’ll be all behind us. We’ll be old and gray, sitting on rocking chairs watching the great-great-great-great-grandchildren playing in the yard.”
“I think that’s a few too many “greats” there, mister. Kids, huh? Moving kind of fast, aren’t you?”
“But,” Terry stammered as he buttoned his shirt and fastened his gear. “You just said not to waste your time.”
“In your sixty-five years, welcome to Medicare by the way, you never learned a thing about women, did you?” Char countered as she took out her skinning knife and prepared to work on the carcass.
“Yes!” Terry said defensively. He pulled his pant leg up to look where the wild boar had hit him with its tusks. Not a mark. His knees were fully healed, too. He was back in perfect health. “Thank you for the exchange of nanocytes.”
“Really?” Char said in a low voice, Terry joined her in working on the pig. Clyde brayed as he tracked them into the arroyo, stopping when he saw his humans, then his hackles went up and he barked viciously at the dead creature.
“I guess you’ll send me red roses in the morning, too?” she said coldly.
“What did I do? I love you, Char! There, for the whole world to hear,” Terry apologized in his manly way.
“Thank you for the exchange of nanocytes. Please pencil yourself in for next Wednesday, when after a rather vigorous workout, I would appreciate another nanocyte exchange so I can heal faster. You are such a nob!”
Terry stopped a moment, looking up and pursing his lips, “Now that you say it, it doesn’t quite sound like what I meant. Let me rephrase…”
“I can’t wait for this.” Char stopped what she was doing, purple eyes sparkling. The corners of her mouth twitching, ready to smile.
“I can’t do it with you watching me like that! Too much pressure.” Terry turned back to the boar and started slicing quickly. Clyde had a hold of one ear and was growling and tugging on it.
Terry tried his distraction technique. “I love that dog.”
“As Robert Jordan said, ‘Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget,’” Char replied.
Terry searched his mind and replied, “You only need one man to love you. But him to love you free like a wildfire, crazy like the moon, always like tomorrow, sudden like an inhale and overcoming like the tides. Only one man and all of this.” He looked to Char, “I quote the immortal words of C. JoyBell C.”
“Touché, crazy man,” Char conceded. They were working quickly with the carcass when James rode around the nearest corner of the arroyo.
“Nice!” James exclaimed looking at the massive beast. “That’s a week’s worth of food right there, even for as many people as we have.”
Clyde, gnawing on the ear he had ripped off looked up to James for a second before going back to his hairy candy.
“Get some folks in here to finish butchering this and prepare it for the spit,” Terry ordered before finishing his command, “tonight, we feast!”
James turned and spurred his horse back to the main road that paralleled the river they followed.
They never ventured far from any of the water sources. The heat was brutal, the sun merciless, the dust all-consuming.
Terry and Char finished the cleaning, leaving the skin on to make transport easier to a place closer to the river where they would find something to burn. There was little to nothing in the Wastelands.
They had to drag Clyde away from some of the entrails, because they were going to use most of it, whether casings for sausage or meat for a stew. Nothing could go to waste—every morsel could be the difference between life and death.
The others came and tied the boar to a rope that they dragged behind two horses, back to the road, then to the river where they rolled the carcass into the river’s flow.
Terry and Char headed out separately to find their horses, but not before kissing goodbye.
As lovers do.
CHAPTER FIVE
“It’s hotter this year than it has been in the past,” the engineer stated, wiping the sweat from his head. “I think we’re going to have to shut the plant down to keep things from over-heating.”
Billy whistled his surprise. “What happens to everything that’s frozen if we lose power? Did you ever bring that backup generator online?”
“No. We couldn’t get the copper internals right, and it’s out of balance. We don’t have a way to lathe the shaft, make it stable. It bounces as it turns, so we can’t get enough RPMs to generate any power. All we have is Old Faithful, and I treat my baby nice.” He glanced over at the mayor, “That’s why I want to shut her down and check to see if we’re getting any excess wear due to the heat.” The engineer was insistent on taking the system offline.
“Without power, we’re just like any other ramshackle settlement, a bunch of survivors scraping by. That’s not us. Can you do it before anything in the freezers thaw out?” Billy asked.
“You can buy us more time if you insulate the freezers, shade, extra wrapping, and pack them as tightly with frozen stuff as you can get—fill all the empty space with pouches of water. That should do the trick. We also have an inverter. We could use your car to provide extra 110VAC, give twenty minutes of love to each freezer every few hours, at least the smaller ones. The big ones pull too heavy a load.”
The engineer had been thinking about how to do it. He didn’t expect he could complete what he needed to do quickly. He wanted a few days to let his baby cool down. If he needed to weld anything, he’d have to ask Billy to drive the car into the power plant to provide the power. He’d need people to wave fans to chase the exhaust away.
And everything would be hot. Inside would be almost unbearable.
The crops this year were suffering too, so they kept the ground as wet as possible, half-draining the lakes within New Boulder to dangerously low levels. Billy was being challenged. All of this and a new baby, too.
He had to make the
decision.
“You will be able to start this thing back up, won’t you?” Billy asked pointedly.
“Absolutely,” the engineer said confidently. “But…”
“What the hell? Son of a bitch!” Billy blurted. Just when he was feeling good about making the decision, the “but” slapped him in the head.
“But it may take a few days. We have all of our spare parts and our shop ready to go. The key to make this work, Billy, is your car.” The mechanic had joined them and watched, wondering which way Billy would go. If he didn’t let them shut the plant down for maintenance, they risked losing it all. There was no backup. If they shut it down but tried to restart before they were ready, they risked catastrophic failure. And then they might come across something that they couldn’t fix. What if they couldn’t restart the plant?
“We’re fucked, aren’t we, boys?” Billy hung his head and mindlessly kicked at a rock. He watched it roll toward the door. The engineer and the mechanic didn’t say a word. “Give me two days to get the freezers ready. We’ll start when the sun sets tomorrow, unless something else comes up, buy us a little time when it’s not so damn hot out.”
“Sounds good, Billy. We won’t let you down.” The engineer offered his hand and they shook.
Billy didn’t feel any better about it. In fact, he felt pretty damned horrible.
***
Private Blackbeard led the small parade of horses west into the mountains. They had only a general idea where the hunter left New Boulder, and his path wasn’t clear. The way was well worn from many using it. Blackie called a halt and rode back and forth looking for any fresh signs. Then he waved them forward for half a mile and called another halt.
He rode in a huge arc, left to right in front of the group, checking and rechecking. Mark was starting to lose patience as the sun continued to climb into the sky. Finally, Blackie waved them forward, pointing northeast.
They rode single file along a narrow path as they climbed. They continued above ten thousand feet, then turned to follow one hill’s crest, staying away from the point where they’d be skylined.
Nomad Unleashed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 3) Page 4