Nomad Unleashed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 3)

by Craig Martelle

  “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 NINETEEN

  “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 the 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.

  “I think I left the oven on,” he quipped.

  “Are we there yet?” Ted asked. The others looked at him oddly, everyone except for Timmons, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “How far do you think this trip will be?” he asked.

  “Two thousand, maybe twenty-five hundred miles one way,” Terry replied.

  Timmons snickered. “Expect two thousand to twenty-five hundred miles of that, multiple times daily. When you travel, he’s like the Rainman.”

  “Hey, Rainman! What makes you tick?” Terry called.

  Timmons stayed to the side of the road. He started to drop back, but the horses were having none of him being too near. “He’s talking to you, Ted.”

  “Me? The molecules of my body support my essence. Because of that, I exist. I exist to serve the alpha. It is my place,” Ted stated.

  “Thank you, Ted. You are a welcome member of the team. Any time you need to ask if we’re there yet, I am ordering you, as your alpha, to ask Timmons, but in a whisper so only he can hear. Do you understand?” Char asked.

  “Yes, thank you, my alpha. Thank you, Char, for bringing me along. Will we be restarting a reactor on this journey?”

  Terry thought about that. “The Zion Nuclear Power Station is right in the area. You will look at it, Ted, and you will tell us if we can restart it. On the way, we’ll be looking for Mini Coopers. Doctor Mark Cooper developed the mini-modular fusion reactors to be truck or train portable. If we can find any of these, I think we’ll be able to jump ahead fifty years in bringing technology back. Keep your eyes out for any Cooper Mini Mods, people!” Terry called.

  No one had any idea what they looked like, no one except Terry. He’d read an article on them and it had pictures. He remembered it all. He also remembered an article on tactical vehicles, but without finding a vault of hardware with preserved weapons and military vehicles, it would be a long time before he’d have his tactical vehicle.

  He looked longingly into the distance. If only he had a HMMWV to ride in. With a driver. And a beer.

  He already missed beer and they hadn’t even passed the power plant yet.

  “Ted, you ever hear of the Zion Nuclear Power Station?” Ted nodded. “It was decommissioned, but I don’t think they started the dismantlement process before the WWDE. If I remember the article, the nuclear fuel is stored in the spent fuel pool on site. Do
you think we could recover that to refuel the reactors?” Terry asked.

  Ted looked into the distance like Terry was doing. “Yes and no.”

  Terry didn’t press him. A decommissioned reactor was probably off during the WWDE and its electronics may have survived, which was what Terry was hoping. Use the salvaged control systems to replace what got fried on a Mini Cooper and they’d have power for the city for the rest of their lives.

  That was what Terry was really counting on. The reason he knew the Mini Coopers were out there was because he’d provided security for a couple of them and he knew that at least one had been destined for Chicago, which was a huge place. He’d have to dig through everything he remembered to try and figure out where they may have taken it.

  They’d have to find someone local who knew the geography from before. They needed to find someone old who had survived.

  That was a tall order. He and Ted continued to look into the distance as the horses walked past the power plant and continued north. They plodded along, which made it easy for Timmons to keep pace. At the point where they had turned northeast to head toward the South Platte River, they turned northwest instead, until they reached old Highway 36.

  From there onward, they’d stay with the foothills that led to the Rocky Mountains and follow it north until they were out of the Wastelands. Terry had hoped he could follow the Missouri River once they reached it in Montana, maybe never needing to go as far north as Canada.

  He hoped that would be the case.

  “Can I change already?” Timmons asked. Char had been ignoring him for the past couple hours, so Terry ignored him, too. He’d grown sullen, trudging along only fast enough to keep up with the last horse.

  “Fine,” Char finally said. Timmons stripped. Buck naked and smiling, he handed his clothes to Lacy, who took them graciously and then threw them on the ground. The horse pranced, trying to get away from the creature that caused it so much anxiety. James snorted, although he had a hard time not being envious of the Werewolf’s magnificently chiseled body.

  Only until Timmons turned into a shaggy gray wolf, half the size of a horse. He was a little bit bigger than Char in her Were form, broader across the shoulders and bulkier. He looked at the group through yellow eyes, bared his fangs, then ran ahead, loping easily past the lead horses and far into the distance.

  “He likes to run,” Ted offered. “He really likes to hunt. There are deer ahead. I think the venison will be tasty for dinner.” Ted leaned to the side and whispered something into the thin air.

  Char mouthed, “Are we there yet?”

  Ted was a genius, according to Char, and totally whacked, but he was kind and wouldn’t hurt anyone unless directed to by the alpha. He was fiercely loyal, not caring who the alpha was as long as they let him know. Ted was simple and complex.

  “What’s your favorite food, Ted?” Terry asked.

  “Oh, that’s easy. I have a certain fondness for Oysters Rockefeller,” Ted answered.

  “Oysters Rockefeller!” Terry exclaimed. He’d been expecting some flavor of raw meat, like elk or venison. “When’s the last time you had that?”

  “Twenty-six years, three months, and seven days ago,” Ted replied. Terry and Char weren’t sure if he was kidding or not, but they suspected not.

  “That’s a long time to go without your favorite dish, Ted,” Terry sympathized.

  “That makes it so much better. If you ate your favorite every day, would it still be your favorite?” Ted asked. Terry contemplated that, coming to the conclusion that no, it wouldn’t.

  Just like you couldn’t have Christmas every day, either. He looked at Char. Maybe he could have Christmas every day. Char caught him leering.

  “Ass,” Char whispered to Terry. “You get your favorite dish every day, and you better still like it. Let’s just say you better not grow tired of it.” She snapped her teeth at him, smiling.

  “I don’t see it getting old,” Terry told her. They looked at each other like newlyweds should.

  Char’s eyes unfocused as she reached out with her senses. “We should hurry so Timmons doesn’t eat the whole deer himself. Not far, but the rest of the herd has run off. That’s the only one we’re going to get.”

  “Ha!” Terry yelled as he slapped his horse’s rump, sending the beast galloping ahead. The others hurried to catch up. Char raced past him to lead the way.

  “Hold!” Terry heard Char yell as she approached the Werewolf tearing into the deer. He stopped his animalistic rending of flesh and leaned back, raised his head, and howled. The horses bucked. Terry’s bolted. James and Lacy fought with theirs. Gerry soothed his while Char dominated her animal, holding the reins tightly.

  He stopped and changed into human form, but that didn’t calm the horses at all. The smell of blood and Timmons together was too much.

  Terry jumped from the horse while it was running and with his enhanced speed, he got in front of it and dragged on the reins until it stopped. He stroked its long nose until it stopped snorting. He yelled at the others to join him and set up camp at his location. They’d clean the deer where it was before bringing it closer to the horses.

  Timmons snickered as he watched the animals fleeing from him in fear.

  Terry wondered if Timmons was spooking the animals on purpose. He’d talk with Char later, because they couldn’t make time if the horses were always panicked.

  Char jumped from her horse, tied it off, and stormed straight for Timmons. Terry realized that she suspected he was doing it on purpose as well, and she was having none of that.

  The smile disappeared from Timmons’s face and he started backing up. He stumbled and fell.

  “Get up!” she screamed.

  He stood and bounced on the balls of his feet. Timmons raised his hands and prepared to fight. He snarled as adrenaline surged through his body. He’d just killed the deer and feasted.

  He wouldn’t be more ready than at that point in time.

  Char didn’t hesitate. She ran the last two steps and jumped, twisting to put enough power into her first punch to drive a hole through his skull, but Timmons dodged, letting her momentum carry her past. He attempted a side kick, but she brushed that away easily, landing on her feet and turning.

  She attacked again by wading toward him, crouched low. Timmons tried to dance out of her reach, but she reacted faster and pounded his arms as he tried to ward off her blows.

  He kicked, swung, and kicked again. She blocked the first two before letting the third one through. Timmons felt like he kicked a piece of granite. Char used the opening to drive her fist into his throat. He fell back, gasping for air. She didn’t let him get out of reach as he staggered.

  She grabbed one arm and twisted, then stepped past and pulled him off his feet. She lifted Timmons into the air and threw him. He crashed to the ground twenty feet away.

  She bolted after him as he tried to scramble upright to better defend himself.

  “I give. I GIVE!” the man screamed.

  “So do I,” Char snarled as she kicked him back to the ground, straddling him as she pummeled his face.

  “Whip!” she shouted, holding out her hand to Terry. He didn’t question her request. He simply handed the bullwhip to her, taking care that the silver chained tip didn’t touch her.

  She stepped back, testing the bullwhip by snapping it over Timmons’s head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sue stood outside the mayor’s house with Clyde at her side. She was lean and blonde. She used to have better curves, but running a couple thousand miles took that away. She wondered if she’d be able to gain the weight back, in the right places, of course.

  “What do you think, boy? Is there any hope?” she asked the dog. He wagged his tail and looked up at her adoringly. She took a knee and nuzzled his face. “Aren’t you the best?”

  Billy watched from the upstairs window. Was he the only one who didn’t like that dog? Clyde had stuck his face into more than one of Billy’s meals. His goal as
mayor was not to have a well fed dog, but well fed people.

  Felicity sidled up next to him and looked out the window. She giggled and shook her head.

  “Your new assistant has arrived,” she drawled. She picked up the baby and headed out the door and down the stairs. Billy trailed after her.

  They found Sue just as they’d seen her, on a knee giving Clyde as much loving as he could handle.

  “I think Colonel Terry Henry Walton has lost his dog’s heart,” Felicity declared.

  “Oh my, will he be angry about that?” Sue asked, concerned.

  “He loves that dog,” Billy said with a sneer. “Come on in and let me show you what I have.”

  Clyde tried to follow, but Billy played goalie and blocked him from coming inside. Sue wondered what that was about.

  “There’s food on the counter in the kitchen. He knows that. If I let that mongrel in here, we won’t be able to stop him,” Billy explained.

  “I will control him,” Sue said simply. Billy closed his eyes, knowing that he’d let her. He was such a pushover when it came to beautiful women. When he opened his eyes, Felicity and Sue were both looking at him.

  He didn’t say a word, only stood back and waved them in. Clyde’s claws dug into the concrete as he launched himself forward, through the door and straight down the hallway headed for the kitchen.

  “CLYDE!” Sue yelled. Billy thought the whole house shook. The dog tried to stop, sliding on the worn wood floor and crashing into the wall. “Get back here!”

  Clyde was torn. He looked toward the kitchen, then back at Sue, then back toward the kitchen.

  “HERE, NOW!” she yelled. Clyde hung his head and loped back to the front door. She petted his head and cooed to him, then pulled a piece of jerky from her pocket to give him.

  “Would you look at that? The dog is trainable. You win, Sue. Bring him on in,” Billy said. Felicity nodded appreciatively and walked toward the kitchen.