Nomad Omnibus 03: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus)

by Craig Martelle

  When her head hit the pillow, she was out.

  The next thing she knew, a hand was clasped firmly over her mouth. She was barely able to draw a breath through her nose.

  The outline of Phineas T. Rye’s head loomed over her. “You were holding us up, pretty one. I think you don’t know your place, but I’m here to show you what you’re good for.”

  He was holding her down by straddling her. She was trapped under her blanket as he started to pull the blanket down. She couldn’t kick as he held the blanket tightly around her legs by pinning his feet against her thighs.

  “Soon enough, my pretty,” he said, leering as the blanket pulled down and revealed her chest. It also freed one arm.

  Marcie took a swing at his head, but he dodged it and fought her with one arm. He finally managed to grab her wrist, but found himself at an impasse. He couldn’t move and neither could she.

  He settled his body down on hers, the blanket still between them. He started squirming to move the blanket with his knees while he pinned her upper body.

  She couldn’t scream, she could barely breathe, but she’d had enough. Marcie pushed his head back with hers, then dropped back to the mattress to build the distance between them. She drove her forehead into the bridge of his nose, breaking it.

  He grunted in pain, but didn’t loosen his grip. Blood ran freely from his nose, splattering the back of his hand and sending drops across Marcie’s face.

  She violently arched her back, bucking him into the air. Her left hand came free. She slipped it under his arm and grabbed his windpipe, digging her fingers in and squeezing. He tried to pull back, but she fought him. He couldn’t release either hand to free himself, but it was that or die.

  He pulled one hand from her mouth and tried to free his throat. She leaned upward and bit his hand, pulling it from hers.

  Her grip continued to tighten. Stars sparked before Phineas Rye’s eyes. He panicked and tried to pull away.

  Marcie rolled him to the side and came up on top of him, sitting on his chest while holding the pressure mercilessly on his throat. He started to flail as a drowning man does when he’s getting no air.

  His muscles relaxed as he passed out. Marcie’s eyes flashed a light blue before she screamed in fury, plunged through the skin of her attacker’s throat with her fingernails, grasped, and tore his windpipe out.

  Kaeden was there ten seconds later to turn on the lights and find her standing in just her panties. The naked body of Phineas T. Rye was on the floor, his throat mangled, blood oozing from the deadly wound.

  Kae pulled his wife to him, hugging her tightly. She leaned into him. He could feel her heart racing, but it slowed with each new breath.

  Sergeant Nickles appeared. “What the hell?”

  “He showed up and attacked me. He’s dead now. Can I room with my husband, please?” she stated matter-of-factly.

  “Yes. I’ll take care of this,” he told her, having no idea what he was supposed to do. Nickles shut the door behind him, went down the stairs and outside, where he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  Akio and the others were just finishing the fifty-mile run. Terry was winded, but still knew something was wrong.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded of Sergeant Nickles.

  The sergeant saluted and repeated what Marcie had told him.

  “The fuck?” Terry was instantly in a rage. His eyes glowed a faint red in the darkness. Char appeared behind him, eyes glowing purple. Terry ran for the door.

  A figure appeared from the darkness, holding a hand out to stop him.

  “I was here, TH. She was safe,” Joseph said.

  “What do you mean?” Terry growled, the glow fading from his eyes. Char looked over Terry’s shoulder.

  “If he got close to hurting her, I would have killed him. As it was, she found something she didn’t know she had. All in all, it was a good evening. The world is better off without that man in it, if I may state such an opinion.”

  “You may,” Terry agreed. “You would have killed him for me?”

  “I would have killed him for her. I would have drank his blood, too,” Joseph whispered.

  “And I would have let you,” Terry replied, slapping his friend on the shoulder, before walking past and heading for the stairs with a new peace of mind. His children were protected by an angel of darkness.

  Terry’s friend, the Forsaken.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  North Chicago

  “What do you intend to do about it?” the colonel asked the lieutenant.

  “It’s unprecedented,” Boris replied. “But in this case, I think it was a justified killing. She’s a fighter, a warrior. I am happy to have her as a member of the Force.”

  “One of our own killed another one of our own. When can that be justified?” Terry pressed.

  “When one is committing a heinous crime!” Boris blurted in response. He was defensive and wasn’t sure why. Boris thought that the colonel would be more protective of the mother of his grandchildren.

  “Exactly,” Terry said, smiling. “You don’t have to make your case to me. You need to be able to defend it to everyone else. They are looking to you to set the standard of conduct. They’ll assume that I’m protecting Marcie. They’ll assume that of you, too, so you’ll always have to address it using logic and reason. And just between us, I’m proud of her. Sometimes people won’t do what needs done because they can’t take a life. That is perfectly fine. Not all moral compasses leave dead bodies in their wake.”

  Terry was a believer that evil had to be physically removed. Others believed that violence only supported a violent society. That was why Terry was adamant about keeping evil outside the wire, outside of North Chicago where the people never saw it.

  He carried the heavy burden of being judge, jury, and executioner on his shoulders, so the others wouldn’t have to wrestle with it.

  Some people could compromise with themselves. Others were destroyed by it. When Sue had shared Billy’s dilemma after killing the New Boulder mechanic, Terry could see it clearly. Billy’s gruff exterior was a front to keep the horrors of violence away.

  Boris had been in combat and killed other men. But combat was different. Looking someone in the eye who was supposed to be on your team and then killing them was a completely different level of violence.

  Terry wanted to talk with Marcie more, try to find out how she was okay with it. Joseph had told him he had nothing to worry about, that Marcie’s mind was calm.

  Maybe the revelation of her self-defense skill gave her confidence. She knew that Kaeden was there for her. He had been through a lot, seeing his sister ripped away from him, his parents die, and his fellow children killed within the tunnels where he’d been found.

  Terry, with the pure moral compass, had killed a bunch of children. But they killed his horse and shot at him, refusing to let up when he gave them a chance. In the Wasteland, there weren’t any do-overs. If you got it wrong, you died.

  The colonel didn’t go into the Wasteland anymore. He didn’t have to. No one was left alive out there.

  “Private Marcie!” Boris called from the small room in the barracks he used as an office. She had been waiting in the hallway for the results of the meeting between the lieutenant and the colonel.

  Marcie entered with Kaeden. Had it been anyone else, Terry wouldn’t have allowed it, but special circumstances dictated a more personal approach.

  “At ease, Privates,” Boris said as Terry stepped aside. “I want to apologize to you both, for putting Marcie in that position, putting anyone in a position to be a target of a predator like Phineas T. Rye. Your actions were justified and I hope that you will remain in training with the goal to be a Force de Guerre warrior.”

  Marcie nodded tersely. Kae started to smile, but stopped himself.

  “How are you, Private?” Boris asked, peering keenly into her eyes.

  “Fine, sir,” she replied.

  “Marcie,” Terry interrupted. Boris lo
oked at him and sighed. Terry didn’t lecture as he intended. He settled on something simpler. “I’m proud of you.”

  She broke the position of attention to look at him and his glistening eyes. As always, whenever anything bad happened, Terry felt that it was his fault. Sometimes he felt as helpless as a newborn.

  “Dad! I mean, Colonel,” Kae stammered. “He was a fucking scumbag and should have never been here, but he hid it. The lieutenant saw it yesterday and tightened him up, but that only set him off. It had to happen. The weak are left by the wayside, aren’t they? Whether physically, intellectually, or morally weak. It’s our responsibility to stay above that.”

  “You sound more like me every day,” Terry replied, blushing. “Killing people can be a slippery slope. I trust that you will always look for another way first. After that, we do what we have to do.”

  “There was no other way. We will always do what we have to do,” Marcie said softly, her hardened shell melting away.

  “Damn straight!” Boris yelled, shocking the others in the room. “And training is what we have to do! I bet there’s nonstop grab-ass going on out there, and I won’t stand for it!” Boris opened his window. “I know you’re playing grab-ass out there! Cut that shit out right now. I’m coming out!” he bellowed without looking. In a normal tone of voice, he addressed the colonel. “If that’ll be all, sir, we got a schedule to keep.”

  “Carry on, Lieutenant.” Terry broke decorum by giving a quick hug to the two privates, kissing each on the forehead, and quickly retreating from the office before he became a blubbering mess.

  “What are you waiting for? Get the fuck in formation!” Boris yelled, galvanizing the privates into action. Kae grabbed Marcie before they left the building, cupping her face gently in his hands.

  “I love you, Marcie,” he said simply, looking into her eyes. Her blond hair was ruffled.

  “Me, too, Kae. Thanks for being here with me.” She started to lean toward him for a kiss.

  “What the FUCK!” Boris screamed from one foot away. The two privates jumped and tore out the door on their way to the formation.

  ***

  “Nice of you to join us,” Timmons said flatly. Terry had been preoccupied and had forgotten that he was filling the role of new recruit, too.

  He saw Akio standing patiently. Terry stopped and bowed deeply. “Please accept my apologies, Akio-sama.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Terry-san.” Akio bowed to Terry in return. “Now, we go to downtown Chicago in order to learn how to scale buildings.”

  Without another word, Akio started running for the main gate, which had been opened up with most of the fencing relocated to the south. The group continued through and followed the road. Akio picked up speed once out of sight of the community. Anyone watching would have marveled at the pace. Even a world-class sprinter from the before time would not have been able to match it.

  Butch and Skippy were the most out of shape and they started to lag behind. They finally stopped, tore off their clothes, and changed into Were form. They quickly caught the group and more easily maintained pace.

  “They’re going to look funny scaling buildings naked,” Terry panted.

  “They will indeed,” Char replied, breathing heavily.

  It took thirty minutes to get where they were going, a modest ten-story building that had weathered the fall and the last fifty years better than most. It looked like smooth glass.

  Gene cocked his head one way and then another. “Oh, fuck no,” he said in his heavy Russian accent.

  Akio looked at Gene and held his gaze until the Werebear looked away.

  “Look for the divots and the seams. Every building has them,” Akio explained, waving them close and pointing. Wide enough for a finger. Four feet away, another gap.

  Akio inserted his fingertips, stretched across the space, and inserted the fingers of his other hand. He jammed the toes of one foot into the gap, then supported himself by his hands as he found the gap with his other foot.

  He released one hand to show that he was supporting himself. Then he started up. Fingers. Toes. Fingers. Toes.

  He picked up speed until it seemed like he was casually climbing a set of stairs. He pulled himself over the top and then leaned back over.

  “Now you, Terry-san!” he said.

  Terry had to take off his boots, but found that he could support himself with his fingers. His toes took more effort, but he discovered that by pushing outward with his toes and pulling inward with his fingers gave him the best support. He started upward tentatively.

  Char moved to the side and found the next gaps in the building. She removed her shoes, grabbed on, and started upward. She soon passed Terry. Smaller toes made for a more nimble climber.

  He started to hurry, pushed too fast, and lost his grip. He pulled tightly with his hands as he started to fall, his legs hanging straight down and slapping against the old glass. Terry carefully inserted his toes back into the crack and started up again.

  He was unconcerned about the height, until he stopped to look around, realizing he was clinging by his fingernails. He continued upward more slowly until Char leaned over and told him that she couldn’t help him over the top.

  Terry moved as close as he could before letting go and slapping a hand onto the top concrete. He grabbed with a second hand and vaulted himself over.

  “Next!” Terry called down and two by two, the Weres scaled what looked like a smooth and unforgiving wall.

  Butch and Skippy latched their naked bodies onto the wall and started climbing.

  “Don’t look down,” Butch warned.

  “Thanks for that,” Skippy countered. “And don’t look up either.”

  The two Weretigers and the Werebear were last. Aaron and Yanmei looked at each other as they found the gap and started to climb. They picked up speed until it looked like they were running.

  Even Akio was impressed. They didn’t slow down as they appeared at the top and rolled over the edge onto the building’s roof.

  Gene stood at the bottom, diligently trying to get his fingers into the gaps, but his fingers wouldn’t fit.

  “I’ll be damned,” Terry conceded. “He was right. There really was no fucking way.”

  “You take the stairs!” Akio called. Gene waved and went inside the building. Three minutes later, he broke through the door and stumbled onto the roof.

  “Now we go down,” Akio told them, before leading the way. He went head first, fingers and toes. Stopping a few feet down. “Much more invigorating this way and keeps your enemies from surprising you.”

  “Holy shit,” Terry exclaimed, leaning over and looking down.

  “Well?” Char asked, unamused at the task before her.

  “Son of a bitch,” Terry complained before going over the edge. “I don’t have the words to express how much this sucks.”

  Terry gripped with his fingers until they turned white. He tentatively sought the gaps with his toes and pushed, straining his calf muscles to hold him as he moved his fingers downward at a snail’s pace.

  “Ha!” Gene bellowed. “You always say how can we make this suck more. Akio found way!”

  Gene lumbered toward the rooftop access door, heading for the stairs.

  Aaron and Yanmei offered to go next while six Werewolves looked on. They moved farther down the wall so Terry and Char wouldn’t hold them up. With elf-like agility, they swung themselves over the top of the wall, deftly finding their gripping points, then headed downward as quickly as they had come up.

  They looked like two cats heading down a tree.

  “How can they do that?” Timmons wondered aloud, leaning over the wall, mesmerized by how they were able to navigate the wall. Terry and Char still had eight stories to go when Aaron and Yanmei threw themselves from the wall, twisting mid-air, and landing on their feet side by side.

  They bowed with a flourish and waved the next pair down.

  Timmons sighed heavily. “Fuck me,” he lamented
as he went headfirst over the wall. Sue had turned pasty white as her fingers gripped the gaps.

  “Come on! It is the same wall you went up. Treat it the same!” Akio yelled.

  Timmons’s arms shook because he pulled on the gap in the wall too tightly. He assumed the snail’s pace, like Terry had, and starting moving downward. “Terry said that we’re the most elite tactical team on the planet. If only they could see us now,” Timmons lamented. “I think I might actually cry.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  North Chicago, FDG Training Ground

  The days blended one into the other. The pace of training never let up, but at the end of the day, the recruits found themselves less and less tired.

  It had been two weeks of non-stop training before they had part of a day to themselves. Auburn and Felicity were able to bring William and Mary Ellen to see their parents and Auntie Kimber.

  Cory stood with them, craning her neck to see as the recruits boiled from the barracks like hornets from a disturbed nest. Although Cory was happy to see her siblings, she was looking for someone else.

  “Oh my God! Look how you’ve grown,” Marcie cried as Mary Ellen ran to her.

  Cory watched the children until Ramses walked from the barracks, then she left Kim and Kae to their families.

  Ramses started running, slamming into Cory and picking her up, swinging her around in a circle. When he put her down, he smiled at her glowing blue eyes. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said.

  “And I’ve missed you, too. I’ve watched, when I could, but there’s so much to do,” Cory apologized.

  Ramses didn’t care if she watched or not. He didn’t want to waste time with matters that he could do nothing about. Had she been there, he still would have had to train.

  He took her hand in his. “Can we go to the chow hall? I’m famished, which seems to be a constant thing. I can’t get enough to eat, ever. As we’re marching away from chow, I’m hungry again.”

  “I expect Mayra will provide, as she always does,” Cory replied, giggling. Ramses started walking toward Claire’s Diner. His pace had increased significantly since their last walk together. “Maybe we can slow down a little bit?”