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

by Craig Martelle

  Billy hesitated. He wasn’t good at making speeches. Everyone was put out to some extent, but he needed the engineer if they were to make a go in a new place. If they wanted to hold on to the gains they’d already made.

  Most of all, their humanity, compassion for their fellow man.

  Damn you, Terry Henry. Compassion. Ain’t that the shit? Billy thought.

  ***

  Mark found the platoon scattered between the five greenhouses. The mechanic had given his life repairing the pumps, and his sacrifice was paying dividends. The water had helped bring the crops back to life.

  The farmers were running around like their hair was on fire. They couldn’t believe that they might have only two months before they walked away from something they’d spent the last twenty years building.

  But then they were reminded of the devastating summer. One more like that and there would be no crops. They couldn’t feed dirt to the townsfolk. It was a bittersweet feeling.

  And some of them simply cried.

  The members of the Force were less than sympathetic. They had a mission to accomplish, but Mark arrived in time. He’d known the farmers and the original group from New Boulder for his whole life. He’d bullied them, as part of his job, but he apologized to them after Terry Henry showed up.

  He sympathized with the farmers, shooing the members of the Force away. He held them and let them vent. Then he told them they’d be back the next day to help with whatever the farmers needed.

  In the first four greenhouses, he did the same thing, but in the fifth, Pepe and Maria were happily issuing orders to a small group from the FDG, who was sorting, stacking, and packing. The others were weeding and distributing small amounts of fertilizer.

  Mark had to ask. “The others are really upset. Why aren’t you?”

  “Because that nice couple, Terry and Char, told us that life was out there, not here. He said two years ago that it was going to get hotter and hotter. Here we are, melting. It is time to leave, and we’ve been thinking about it for a long time. When we get where we’re going, we’ll start over, but we have our seeds, we have our experience, and we have people. It will be fine. We appreciate the help of the nice strong men. If you come tomorrow, we will feed you a wonderful breakfast.” Pepe smiled broadly as he hugged his wife.

  Attitude can make all the difference, Mark thought. You’re all going, might as well be like these two and see the bright side of it.

  ***

  They finally managed to make a fire, but it smoked to high heaven. They cooked the bear meat the best they could, slicing off pieces to eat as they were ready.

  “I like black bear,” Gerry said. “I think this is the tastiest meal I’ve ever had.”

  “They say that hunger is the best condiment,” Terry admitted.

  “I don’t know what that means, but it’s the best, hands down,” Gerry stated firmly.

  They continued to eat, letting the smoke add flavor while also preserving the meat so they could carry it with them like jerky. They needed a stock of food to cross areas lacking game or edible wild plants.

  Terry was settling into his survivalist mode, doing what needed done to live to the next day.

  They stripped the carcass and tied the meat together in bundles. There wasn’t as much as Terry had hoped, maybe three days if they skimped, one if they shared with the wolves.

  “One day it is,” Terry said to himself. “Wait. Take the rib bones for our furry friends.” The others gathered those and they headed down the steep hill.

  The camp was as they left it. Even though the rain had stopped, everything was still wet. The ground was mud after getting churned up by hooves. Char, Ted, and Timmons had moved the horses downhill to stop the intrusions into their small spring. They’d also banked rocks along the high side to divert water running downhill. For that moment in time, the spring bubbled clear. Terry urged his people to drink and then to refill their flasks.

  Carefully, they stuck their faces into the clear water.

  “Water is life,” Terry mumbled. Gloom had seized him. He didn’t care about the rain and he’d just eaten his fill, but he started to lose faith in his ability to move the townspeople. That many people would never have survived this.

  He started to think that he would end up killing them all while trying to save them. Char took his hand and pulled him away from the others.

  Ted was as happy as could be watching the pack dig into the treats that had been brought for them.

  “I know that look, TH,” she started. Terry kicked at a small rock on the ground. His toe stuck in the mud so he kicked a big clod away, splashing both of them.

  “Stop,” Char said softly. “My big tough Marine thinks that he can’t save the people?” Terry was instantly angry and glared at her through narrow eyes.

  “Don’ you dare give me the hairy eyeball!” she quipped and poked him in the chest. He wasn’t in the mood. “Those people all survived for decades before they met you. I think you’ll find that they are heartier than you give them credit for. You be the one to give them a reason to survive. They’ll take care of the rest.”

  “What are you seeing that I can’t?” Terry asked before adding, “And why?

  “You’re too close,” she whispered, purple eyes sparkling in the setting sun. She poked him once more, this time softly, “You are Terry Henry Walton, the savior of all mankind! That’s how you see yourself anyway. You won’t accept anything less than that, a very high bar indeed. I’m on the outside looking in, and whether you believe it or not, it’s true. You need to let me in there with you, TH.”

  Terry looked at the sky, the sun was setting. They’d have to spend another night on this hillside.

  “Our nanocytes have shown us we are better together,” Terry said, talking more to himself than Char. “Maybe we were destined for this.” He looked toward her, “I’ve never heard of two people like us before, a new generation of enhanced humans, built to survive a harsh new world, built to protect those who couldn’t survive on their own.”

  Terry smiled. “We are better together. I’m better because we’re together.”

  “And you owe me two years’ worth of sex because you’re a dumbass,” Char stated, lifting her chin and then punching Terry in the chest. He reached out to grab her, but she dashed away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Bring it in!” Mark called as the platoon members milled about. When they were close to him, he waved for silence.

  “We have to win their hearts and minds,” Mark said, trying to make eye contact with as many of them as possible. “We have a mission, sure, and it’s my fault that you weren’t prepared for how they would react. We’re going to go back and we’re going to empathize, understand how they feel. If they don’t want to do anything, then you don’t do anything. In the end, we’re going to load up all the seeds and any available food, no matter how ugly or half-grown, as well as the farmers themselves. We have time. In the interim, we’re going to be there for them, be their friends, and show them all the great things that they’ve done, not the great things that they have.”

  Many shuffled uncomfortably. Terry had used the phrase ‘bull in a china shop.’ He didn’t know what a china shop was, but having a bull plowing through anything that wasn’t a wide open field would take its toll. The visual made sense to him and applied to what he’d done by sending the platoon in with the too-strict order to help the farmers pack. They never discussed what to do if the farmers didn’t want to.

  “I can’t change yesterday, but I can change what we do today. We’ve already apologized to the good people who run the greenhouses. We’ll apologize again today, and I’ll ask Pepe and Maria if they’ll talk with the others. Outside of that, we’ll be there for them, but we’re not going to push them.”

  “I joined the FDG because I thought it was a place where we’d fight our enemies. We’d be out there in the Wastelands kicking ass and taking names!” Boris was loud and boisterous, animated as he talked. It s
eemed like he was drumming up support for a rebellion.

  The FDG was a combat unit, but what were they fighting for? Who was the enemy?

  Mark scowled. “That’s enough, Private!”

  Boris grumbled and some people near him laughed.

  “Now listen up, you fucking ingrates!” Mark yelled angrily. “The colonel and the major are looking for a place where we won’t die in the fires of hell that this place is becoming. He said that we’ll have to help these people cross two thousand miles of this country. What do you think is out there?”

  Mark worked his way closer to Boris. The platoon members sensed a fight and parted to give them space.

  “The FDG isn’t about fighting just to fight!” Mark bellowed.

  “How would you know? I see the colonel never takes your dumb ass along,” Boris sneered, looking for friendly faces to back him up. Too many people nodded.

  “Hey,” Mark said conversationally, looking around at the others and holding his hands up as he tried to calm down. “Someone has to stay back and make sure we protect the townsfolk. That someone is me and all of you.” Mark nodded at the people who would meet his gaze.

  “When we go out there,” Mark continued, pointing east toward the Wastelands, which weren’t as far away as they used to be. “When we go into that, we need to be a real fighting force so we have the discipline to handle whatever comes our way.”

  A grunt from beyond the group signaled Hank’s arrival as he shouldered his way into the outer ring.

  Mark turned back and saw Boris watching the bear. With a snap kick to Boris’s groin, Mark attacked. The man went down, holding his injured man-parts. Mark dove to the ground, winding a haymaker as he went. His fist impacted Boris’s head right behind his eye. The private’s head bounced off the ground once, sounding like a dropped melon.

  Boris rolled over, out cold.

  “Fuck you,” Mark spit. The platoon hadn’t seen what happened. “Anyone thinks they’re smarter than the colonel, step up and take your medicine. We’ll do as he ordered until those orders change, so shut your fucking pie holes and get in formation!”

  The unit quickly formed, standing at attention and forcing themselves not to look at the man on the ground. Hank sniffed at Boris before peeing a massive puddle that ran underneath the man. Bear urine had a certain unmistakable stench. Mark ordered the squad leaders to take their people back to the greenhouses where they would apologize and help the farmers to have a good day.

  The platoon ran off, as did Hank. He caught up with them and kept trying to play with Blackie, who ran while getting hip-checked by the growing bear cub.

  The platoon’s attitude changed during the run. One toxic personality could bring everyone down. Remove that and it was amazing to watch good people flourish.

  Mark sat downwind from Boris and waited for him to wake up. It was a good five minutes before the man stirred. He struggled to sit up. Mark helped him, then lined him up, and punched him in the mouth. Boris rolled back to the ground.

  He mumbled as he held his hands in front of his face. Mark straddled the man and pulled him half off the ground by his shirt collar.

  “Had enough, asswipe?” Mark growled into Boris’s face.

  “Yea, yea, now get off,” Boris said, spitting blood.

  Mark punched the man’s hands against his face, twice, to make sure he had Boris’s full attention. “The only words I want to hear from you are ‘yes, sir.’ Do you get me?”

  Boris tried to push Mark away, but his efforts were feeble. Mark stood up, spun, and kicked Boris in the chest. “I asked if you got me,” Mark repeated himself.

  “Yes, sir,” Boris groaned as he lay flat on his back. “I fucking get you!”

  “Lesson learned?” Mark asked.

  Boris rolled to his side and propped himself up. Mark offered a hand to help him up. Boris started to slap it away, but decided discretion was the better part of valor and grasped the sergeant’s hand.

  “Dammit, Boris! You’re not the enemy. They’re out there!” Mark pointed.

  “They aren’t in this town. We’ll find them on our way wherever the colonel decides we need to go. It really is as simple as that. We’re going to be bored out of our minds for days, but in that five seconds where the colonel needs us to be ready to unleash the fire, we better be ready. And when we bring it, nobody will be able to stand before us. I want to fuck people up in a bad way, but only the enemy, not you, not anyone we’re trying to help. You weren’t here when I was doing that for the mayor. That is no way to live, so we can’t fight and that’s all there is to it.”

  Mark clapped the man on the back, and they started to walk away from the barracks on their way to the farms.

  “What motivates you, Boris?” Mark murmured to himself.

  ***

  The horses finally dried out after a full night of grazing the hillside under the stars. Gerry saddled them, and the group prepared to leave as the sun was already up.

  “Wagons, ho!” Terry called as he always did. He used to do that in the before time, too. It was his way. Char shook her head and spurred her horse forward, heading downhill at a slow walk.

  They didn’t know what they’d find when they hit the bottom. Terry expected mud, vast quantities of mud. No one else cared to speculate since they weren’t in the greatest of moods. Ted and Char were unperturbed and maintained enough of a positive outlook to buoy the whole group.

  Terry surged ahead, but was quickly passed by the wolf pack. No one flinched, not the horses and not the people. The pack was a part of the group now, as long as Ted was there to tell them what needed to be done.

  “Scouting ahead?” Terry called over his shoulder.

  “Yup!” Ted replied.

  Terry was always a fan of a picket out in front of the main force. They could make first contact so much easier. Although he couldn’t talk personally with his picket, he could talk with the guy who could. It was roundabout, but this was a whole new world. He had three humans, three Werewolves, ten real wolves, and himself.

  A long time prior, when he had Vampires in his midst, he’d worked with them for the benefit of all.

  His unit was task-organized, a Marine Corps term for building your force based on the mission and not a standard table of organization and equipment, a TO&E. He abhorred staff work, preferring to be in the field where the action happened, but bad staff work left Marines with their asses hanging out.

  He had to do it all—plan, train, and execute.

  No, that’s wrong, he told himself. I’m not alone.

  He waved Char to ride at his side so he could talk with her, as any good commander would do with his XO, his executive officer. Or as Terry committed to doing with his wife, a partnership, but he had a nearly overwhelming desire to protect the one he loved. That was both ingrained on his soul from the Marines and driven home like a hot stake into his heart when he failed Melissa.

  And now Char was asking him to step back and share. Sharing didn’t mean going it alone. He should have insisted harder that Melissa and their daughter go too, way back then. If they didn’t agree, then he shouldn’t have gone. He couldn’t go back in time to fix that, but he could fix it now.

  “We do everything together,” Terry told Char.

  “It’s no fun any other way,” she answered, wondering what he was talking about.

  “Here’s what I see for today. If the mud is too bad, we go west and follow the foothills north until we find the Missouri River, which will be in Montana, a ways from here. It’ll be best if we can just follow the interstate until it hits I-94 and then take that all the way into Minneapolis. Yes, following I-25 to I-94 was always my plan. Why reinvent the wheel?”

  “What would make you want to change that plan?” Char asked, closing her eyes and trying to recall a topographical map of the area, but nothing was coming to mind.

  “A big river heading east. There are a couple on the map, but things have changed,” Terry replied as he leaned out of the saddle t
o gauge the depth of the mud as they approached the plain. He couldn’t see the wolf pack’s tracks.

  Terry continued, “A river would encourage me to head east before we got to the Missouri, which I-94 follows for a great deal of its way. We may have to swing north in North Dakota, continue to follow the Missouri if the Wastelands have crept in. That track from Glendive to Bismarck could be too long and barren. Heaven knows it was back in the day.”

  “Sounds good, lover, I mean, Colonel, sir.” Terry never grew tired of watching Char’s eyes sparkle. “We’re on solid ground.”

  He looked at her oddly and then realized he’d lost focus. “God damn it!” Most of the mud had washed into channels, filling low spots in the ground. The wolf pack had gone along a small rise that was free and clear. They started loping to eat away the distance.

  “Looks like our worst fears have not come true,” Terry said, kicking his horse into a distance-eating run. “Thirty, thirty,” he yelled, hoping the others would hear him. If they didn’t, they’d figure it out soon enough.

  ***

  Billy was exhausted. He was forced into his role as the good-guy mayor by people he respected and cared about.

  That didn’t mean he liked it. He was right at the edge of breaking. Felicity was on the verge of kicking him in the balls while he slept. All in all, he was having a crap day.

  Billy, Felicity, and Marcie had to get out of the house. They strolled to the power plant, no one talking. The mayor found the engineer near the control room of the plant.

  The engineer continued to vent his spleen regarding the need to carry a massive pile of metal halfway across the United States. That was the breaking point.

  Billy grabbed the old man and shook him, screaming in the engineer’s face. “That is absolutely the last fucking word you’ll say about this God damn, motherfucking pile of shit! Shut the fuck up!” Billy slammed the engineer against the wall and the man’s eyes shot wide in terror. When Billy let go, the engineer grabbed his chest and started convulsing. Billy’s jaw dropped as he stared.