“Maybe a bun, my honey bun?” Billy called after her. She didn’t bother looking back. Billy leaned toward Sue and whispered conspiratorially, “She’ll bring us something.”
“No, I won’t!” they heard Felicity yell from the kitchen.
***
Merrit and Shonna were going from greenhouse to greenhouse, looking at the soil and any mechanical equipment, seeing what needed repaired first. To Merrit, it was obvious that they should add nitrates to the soil, but they’d have to rotate out the current sickly-looking crop.
The farmers said the crops were producing only half what they did compared to the year before. But with the excess manpower, the fields were double the size. The people were working harder to maintain the status quo.
Something had to give.
“Priority to the water pumps and irrigation systems,” Merrit said when they’d reached the fifth greenhouse, the place that Pepe and Maria ran.
“Yes, please. Water is the only thing that will help us through this awful heat,” Pepe added. Merrit looked at him and nodded tersely. Shonna slapped the other Werewolf in the arm.
“It is horrible, isn’t it?” Shonna sympathized, stepping between Pepe and Maria, wrapping her arm around each and guiding them to the table where the exhaust fan provided a small respite.
They sat while Shonna took a knee. “We’ll work with that pump and get it up to speed. Then we’ll help pull every bit of water from the ground that we can get. Soon it will be cool enough, but until then, we fight back!”
The farmers were encouraged by the newcomers’ enthusiasm. “And if we can get enough water, maybe get the misters working in here. Wouldn’t a cooling mist a few times a day be good for the plants and anyone who happens to be around? It would certainly take the edge off,” Merrit offered, getting into the spirit of the conversation.
“I need to go get some tools, then we’ll be back. Is the electricity working here?” he asked.
“Yes, it is, finally,” Maria said, pointing to the exhaust fan.
“Oh, right!” Merrit exclaimed. Shonna made a mental list of everything they needed. The welder would come in handy, something that James never knew existed when he performed his manual welding of a water pump. The Werewolves weren’t into making things harder than they needed to be, but they would do what was necessary, because Char ordered it.
Shonna, Xandrie, and Sue would make sure the other two fell in line. They were overjoyed at having a She-Wolf as the alpha.
They wouldn’t let the men undermine her position, no matter what. If they knew what was good for them, they’d make Char proud. If they faltered… Well, Timmons wouldn’t be the only one getting his ass kicked upside-down and backwards.
***
Timmons screamed as the bullwhip lashed across his stomach. He rolled over and curled into a ball. Char laid open his back with two more vicious cracks of the whip. Timmons whimpered like an abused puppy.
Char approached him, careful not to let him lash out and catch her unaware. With a quick move, she wrapped the silvered part of the bullwhip around Timmons left hand and pulled it tight. She grunted when it touched her, but not enough to even leave a mark.
Timmons howled and cried for her to stop, but with a scream of vengeance, she yanked on the bullwhip and ripped Timmons hand off.
He bolted upright, crying out in pain and anguish. Char tossed the bullwhip to Terry. She casually picked up the severed hand, walked to the small fire that had been started, and dropped the hand in. It sizzled and sputtered before turning black.
“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. Blood and revenge are hammering in my head, so sayeth Titus Andronicus,” she said, shaking her fist at him. “Next time, you die.”
James and Lacy watched, shock on their faces as the wound on Timmons’s arm closed, creating a stump. Gerry strolled up after getting the horses settled. “What’d I miss?” he asked nonchalantly.
“The fight of the century, Gerry. You missed the fight of the century. The major ripped his fucking arm off!” James stated, still in awe at the spectacle.
“Private Geronimo, would you please bring the spare horse here. Test how it reacts to that thing,” Char said, pointing to Timmons’s huddled mass.
“Yes, ma’am!” Gerry shouted and ran off, returning quickly, leading a young stallion.
The horse walked past without a nicker, but he kept his eyes on the carcass of the deer, not far away.
“You’ll ride tomorrow,” Terry told Timmons. “Come sit by the fire, get something to drink. You two, butcher that deer and let’s get dinner cooking.” James and Lacy saluted, pulled their knives, and got to work.
Ted watched it all, seemingly indifferent. He joined James and Lacy, but he didn’t have a knife. Terry handed his extra blade, the non-silvered one, to Char. He helped Timmons to his feet and to the fire. Gerry brought a saddle and put it on the ground. Timmons leaned against that as he continued to cradle his arm, wearing a look of tortured pain, his features twisted as he fought his way through the agony.
Terry let him drink one full flask, then gave him a second.
Char handed the knife to Ted. “I told him not to cross the alpha. Nothing could come from it. I told him. Too belligerent for his own good. Arrogance will get him killed one day,” Ted said, testing the blade.
Finding it sharp and up to the task, he gave the deer his full attention.
Char walked away from the camp. She didn’t enjoy confrontation, but she could never let the pack know that. And losing her temper was something she found deplorable. She looked at the stars in the sky, the magnificence of the universe, and wondered, What have I become?
Terry asked Ted to take some of the raw venison to the injured man, including the heart, something that the Werewolves seemed to relish, then he followed Char into the darkness.
She sensed him coming and leaned into his embrace as he hugged her from behind.
“What have I become?” she whispered.
“What you had to,” Terry answered. “You became what we needed to get the most from the survivors. If we have to put Werewolves to work turning wrenches, so be it. You made that happen. And Timmons? We need his mind, desperately. Engineering is probably the most critical trade of the new world. How do you rebuild if you don’t know what you’re doing? You tempered your rage in a way that left us all better off.”
Terry pulled her hair to the side and kissed her neck, while letting his hands roam free down her body.
“I am,” she said mysteriously.
“You quoted Shakespeare, so you couldn’t have been too mad. I would have said something heavily peppered with F-bombs. That’s how you know when I’m angry.
“I know,” she said as she started to unbutton her shirt, her purple eyes sparkling as the darkness settled.
***
“You’ve done a lot of good work here, Mayor,” Sue said, nodding. “You weren’t a project manager in the before time, were you?”
Billy laughed out loud. “I was a punk before the fall. I’ve grown up since then, and thank you. I have no doubt that you knew I was a nobody back then.”
Sue studied the man, rough features, gruff voice. Felicity smiled as she looked away.
“Behind every great man…” Sue didn’t need to finish her statement as Billy quickly looked toward Felicity. “I’d like to think that we were all somebody back then. There’s so few of us now, but we are challenged with rebuilding the world. A tall order for a bunch of nobodies, but possible for a group of somebodies led by people who believe.”
The remains of the buns that Felicity had brought sat on the table away from the neatly organized piles of papers and notes. The flowers in the yard hadn’t survived the reception, unfortunately. It smelled dusty instead of fragrant, and it was hot outside.
“We can’t take the car,” Billy said, having realized that he had no options. They’d finish the year and in the winter, they’d travel the edge of the wasteland, hoping it was cool enough that the
trip wouldn’t kill his people.
My people, he thought.
Just like Terry Henry Walton, Billy no longer thought of himself first. The car was for Felicity. It was the survival of the others he was concerned about. He wasn’t worried that he’d make it.
“That God damned Terry Henry Walton,” he blurted out, before putting a hand over his mouth. He stood and walked briskly from his office, out the front door, and stopped in the middle of the street.
He looked past his home. He saw a thin tendril of smoke rise from the power plant. He could see the top of the first greenhouse. Birds sang somewhere toward the mountains. Despite the heat, there was some snow on the peaks.
“FUCK!” he yelled, frustrated at having to leave behind everything he’d built, frustrated by how many people counted on him. He sighed. A single sweat bead trailed down the side of his forehead and into his eye. He blinked it away. The heat shimmered as it rose from the crumbling pavement.
Clyde ran past him and into the brush. Sue let the dog go. No reason to yell at him when he was doing what he loved. Billy took a knee and watched the mutt chase a ground squirrel. Clyde dug like a fiend when the small creature disappeared into a hole in the ground, only to reappear behind him and run in another direction.
The dog ran after it.
Unperturbed, Billy thought, using a word that wasn’t his to describe all that he was.
Billy returned to the others in the doorway, feeling no need to apologize for his language. “Tomorrow, my dear,” he started smoothly, kissing Marcie on her pale forehead, “we’ll take the car and go see everyone, tell them to stock everything they can because we’re moving the town. As soon as Terry and Char tell us where we’re moving to, we’ll hit the road. We’ll take the car as far as we can drive it. Then we’ll walk, just like everyone else, just like Moses, but by God, it better not take forty years to get there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
When Terry and Char returned to the camp, they found that everyone had eaten their fill.
“I know what you were doing,” Ted taunted. Terry let it go, shrugging. James offered a thick piece of venison he’d kept warm.
“Thanks, Corporal James. I appreciate that,” Terry told him.
“No problem, Colonel. Major?” James asked, holding a chunk of meat that was warm but nearly raw.
“Corporal.” Char nodded, taking the meat and rolling her eyes as she looked at Lacy and Gerry. “Privates.”
“Major,” they said in reply. She snickered.
“Major?” Terry asked.
“Colonel?” she answered. He narrowed his eyes at her. The others looked away quickly so they wouldn’t start laughing.
“And so began the complete breakdown of military discipline,” Terry warned.
“Expectation is the root of all heartache, a quote oft attributed to Shakespeare, but that’s not correct. Its origins are unknown, although it is apropos, don’t you think?” Char asked.
“Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, shall win my love. Taming of the Shrew, act 4, scene 2.” Terry replied.
“That’s a good one!” Ted exclaimed. “Taming of the Shrew is one of my favorites. That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long to tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.”
“Do you know what they’re talking about?” James asked Lacy. She shook her head and held out her hands to show callouses and short nails. She only learned to read because Terry made it mandatory for all members of the Force, and he himself had taught them.
“Where did you first learn to love Shakespeare, Ted?” Terry asked.
“Off Broadway. We used to go to all the shows. What I wouldn’t give for a show, followed by a dinner of Oysters Rockefeller, followed by a nice brandy and a cigar.” Ted looked into the distance as he recalled the good old days, when people were ignorant about how hard the world was trying to kill them.
“James, set up the watch please. Everyone participates, even our two newest recruits.”
“Oh, good. I was wondering. What is my rank?” Ted asked.
Timmons looked sad. The belligerence had been wiped from his face. His clothes were in tatters. Terry dug his sewing kit out of the saddle bag and handed it to him. Timmons looked at the stump of a hand.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, man,” Terry apologized, actually feeling sorry for the once proud Werewolf. “I’ll sew it up for you.”
Timmons shrugged out of his shirt. James and Lacy jumped up to help him. He started to fight them, but decided that he needed the help. He realized that his new life was going to suck if he tried to go it alone. And then it hit him, that was how a real alpha acted. They come down on challengers like a ton of bricks. Just like Marcus had. Just like Timmons was never able to, because he wasn’t an alpha.
“Thanks, Terry,” he mumbled. Then stood up straight. His once magnificent physique was horribly scarred by the few lashes that Char had delivered. “I’m sorry to all of you for what I’ve done, what I made the alpha do.”
Char watched him closely, sniffing the air to see if his scent suggested duplicity. She couldn’t tell, but suspected not. For the first time since the pack returned, Timmons seemed sincere.
“No. I’ll do it,” she told Terry, taking the shirt and sewing kit from him. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. She looked at Terry with her purple eyes, hoping that she was doing the right thing. She hated confrontation.
Tear them down and then build them back up, Terry thought. He watched Timmons, who appeared to appreciate the help. He was in no condition to challenge the alpha ever again. Char’s approach had been cold and violent, but it allowed everyone a way to move forward on the path that was best for all.
“Warrant Officer,” Terry said into the silence. “I think you need to be a warrant, Ted. What do you think of that?”
“Warrant officers were specialists in their fields,” he said as if reading a recruiter’s manual. “In the Army, they flew helicopters, among other things, but you were in the Marines. In the Marine Corps, didn’t they refer to warrant officers as gunner?”
“That’s not something everyone would know, but that’s correct. The first warrants were gunnery officers. We had gunnery sergeants who we call gunny. But the warrant officers were called gunner. It only confused the civilians, not the Marines.” Terry pulled up a seat next to Ted.
“How’d you know that, Ted?” Terry asked.
“We had Marines on our ships. They guarded the reactors on the big boys. They had to go to Sea School for their training, Camp Pendleton. That’s where. They were good people, confident, gung ho, and loyal to a fault,” Ted recalled.
“So you’re a squid? I’ll be God damned. You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a sailor, and here we are, thousands of miles from the nearest ocean.” Terry looked to see if he’d get a rise from Char, but she was lost in her own thoughts as she sewed up slashes in the blood-soaked material.
“Hey! Do you sense that?” Ted asked, looking at Char. She didn’t answer. “Go to the horses, now!”
Ted jumped up, ripping his clothes off as he ran and changing into a Werewolf at the edge of the fire’s light.
***
It was evening, and Merrit and Shonna were restless. They stopped by the mayor’s house on the way back to their own.
“We need to take some tools to the greenhouses. Is there a cart or something we can use?” Merrit asked. Billy looked at Shonna, wondering how Werewolves were so damned beautiful. He figured they should have been hairy and misshapen.
“Can you drive?” he asked.
“Sure, I have a lot of miles under my belt,” Merrit said, then pointed to Shonna. “But she has more.”
“Used to drive truck for a living, for just a little while. Prudhoe Bay to Key West. I’ve driven it all,” Shonna said.
“Take my car and don’t scratch the paint!” he warned them.
“Woohoo!” Merrit called as he ran off like a teenager. Shonna thanked Billy and raced away, sprinting
to overtake Merrit because she wanted to drive. It had been forever since she last sat behind the wheel. She could smell the exhaust already. She summoned her reserves to quicken her pace.
***
“Okay, fucker! Here’s the deal. The next time that bear cub gets out, I’m shooting it,” Mark grunted as he washed the claw scratches on his leg. His pants were torn and almost ruined and his leg burned from the cub’s dirty claws.
“I don’t know what happened. I think someone left the gate open!” Blackbeard tried to explain.
“Bullshit! You keep that nasty beast under control. How in the holy hell is he going to walk all the way to Chicago?”
“Hank will make it. He’s a trooper, aren’t you, boy?” Blackie called toward the enclosure. The bear cub was huddled in a corner under the overhang from the stable. When he attacked Mark, he’d gotten kicked more than once before Blackie could get him under control.
“You train him better, or he’s done!” Mark growled before limping back into the house they called the barracks. When he entered, Blackie heard Mrs. Grimes yelling at Mark to wipe his feet and stop bleeding on the floor. Old Mrs. Grimes ran the barracks with an iron fist. The story of how Terry killed the last person that gave her grief was legendary. Only two people were alive who’d witnessed that encounter: Mark, who enjoyed embellishing the story, and Jim, who was usually quiet.
Mrs. Grimes allowed no backtalk and made sure that everyone got along. Instigators found themselves sleeping in the stable and on their own for the next few meals. She was the cook, the maid, and the sergeant major.
No one complained because she was good at all three of those tasks. Blackie thought he heard someone get slapped, followed closely by, “I said take those pants off! Let me get a look at that.”
Blackie stopped listening, ran a few steps, and jumped the fence into the enclosure. He walked carefully to where Hank was curled up, whimpering. He laid next to the bear cub, hugging him. The cub rested his head on the human and looked at him with his big brown eyes.
Nomad Unleashed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 3) Page 16