Either way, his covers for the most part look fantastic, now. Except this one… This one needs to be burnt and redone:
Now, I haven’t told Awesome Craig that I put that cover in the back of this book, but I know that I need some proof that I wasn’t just speaking some shit since he has gone back and redone so many of his covers. Since Awesome Craig is …well… awesome, I figure I need photographic evidence for the future.
So, long story short, since I knew fans would want to know about those 150 years on Earth I reached out to Craig to help me with the stories and now I have a friend that I didn’t have before.
I came out ahead in the deal.
Collaborator / occasional person I use to talk to about stuff
Being an author can be a solitary position for a lot of the time. We are inside our own heads in our stories. Now, there are ways to mitigate this situation such as writing groups / get togethers and other processes such as collaborations.
Here, I knew that I would be handing over one of my relatively minor characters that fan’s loved. This quirky, eidetic memory former Marine with an attitude and together Craig and I were going to do something with him.
Craig is a former Marine… Terry was a Marine… Perfect!
The reality was even better than I could have hoped for.
Before Craig took over Terry Henry Walton (nod to Indiana Jones) I had maybe written a total of 15,000 words of scenes with the Terry Henry (TH to his friends) in my books.
Craig took that and wrote fifty times that much by the time he finishes the ten books. I think it is safe to say that Terry Henry is much more Craig’s guy than mine at this point and I can’t be more proud to know my collaborator wrote him and Char into the characters they are.
Sometime during our collaboration efforts, Craig and I formed a friendship where I could bounce stuff off of him not only about stories, but about life in general. He has lived a handful of years more than I have, and sometimes that is all a person needs to ask ‘dude, what do you think about
That’s pretty kick-ass to have on speed-dial.
So, add yet another awesome result in my life due to writing that first Bethany Anne story so many months ago. While it FEEL’s like years have gone by, we haven’t even hit the 2 year mark on the first release of Bethany Anne.
Gott Verdammt people, this November, we need to PARTY!
My life has been so enriched, and Craig is a major part due to YOU reading these stories.
So, thank you!
Michael Anderle
Note: I am writing this author note from the 3rd Floor balcony at the Pueblo Bonito Pacifica Hotel in Cabo San Lucas. The same hotel location I was staying when writing the third book, Love Lost, for The Kurtherian Gambit in November of 2015.
Sometimes, we do come full circle, and it feels fucking wonderful.
Michael
TIMELINE
World’s Worst Day Ever (WWDE)
WWDE + 20 years – Terry Henry Walton Returns to humanity
Nomad Found
Nomad Redeemed
Nomad Unleashed
WWDE + 23 years – Terry & Char get married in New Boulder
Nomad Supreme
WWDE + 24 years – The move to North Chicago is complete, Kaeden & Kimber join Terry & Char’s family
Nomad’s Fury
WWDE + 25 years – Cordelia is born
Nomad’s Justice
WWDE + 50 years – Terry Henry is taken prisoner
Nomad Avenged
WWDE + 50 years – TH starts his war on the Forsaken
Nomad Mortis
WWDE + 82 years – TH builds the FDG for the final battle
Nomad’s Force
WWDE + 150 years – TH prepares to leave Earth behind
Nomad’s Galaxy
CHAPTER ONE
Jamaica
Terry and Char leaned back on their short lounge chairs and sipped the milk directly from freshly cut coconuts. Terry had hacked them open expertly with a small machete.
It had taken years of practice, but he had it down. Char had figured it out within a week of their move to Jamaica. Having seen that Hawaii was lacking any infrastructure and had reverted to the stone-age, they decided not to move there. Life would have been a constant struggle.
So they chose the Caribbean.
That was over fifty years ago.
The comm device buzzed, surprising Terry. Hardly anyone called anymore. It was usually he or Char who made the call to their family, just like it had been since the phone was invented.
“Cordelia! So nice of you to call,” Terry said sarcastically, until he saw Charumati’s scowl, which straightened him out. “How are you?”
“Have you two had enough sun and fun yet?” Cory asked.
“I’m not sure it’s possible to get too much of either.” Terry winked at his wife. Char smiled back and rolled her finger, wondering what was on Cory’s mind. “Out with it. Why’d you call?”
“I can’t call my parents for no reason at all besides my undying love?”
Terry thought about it for a millisecond. “No. But I’m glad you called, whatever your reason.”
“Sarah Jennifer and Sylvia need training. Our quarterly visits simply are not enough to get them where they want to be. The others miss you, too.” Cory sounded like she was pleading.
Terry waited, letting silence draw the words from his daughter.
“It’s time you came home,” Cory finally said.
“This is home. We’ve lived here longer than anywhere we’ve ever lived before. It only took fifty years, but nobody messes with us when we stroll through Kingston Town.”
“You know what I mean, Dad,” Cory said softly, not a rebuke, but a loving daughter trying to make her point with a recalcitrant parent. “Home to us. Home to the pack. You know that they’ve all come back. They would have been exposed for what they were had they stayed longer, exposed the Unknown World. We can’t have that. And they need their alpha. Please come home.”
Terry looked at Char. She smiled slowly, purple eyes sparkling. Her magnificent body was toned from the daily workouts, and well-tanned from the daily sunning. Her hands hard from the fishing that they did to relax from their days full of relaxation. Her mind sharp as ever from the management of trade coming through the Panama Canal.
For the past forty years, the ships had been coming, intermittently for a long time, but the past ten years had been a breakout. The Jamaican Export Bureau, which Terry and Char had been instrumental in building, managed the exports.
It was more than just raw materials. It was manufactured goods, too. Kingston and all of Jamaica was back on the map and a powerhouse to boot.
Terry and Char stayed because they expected Forsaken to appear, but they never did. Jamaicans worked in Jamaica and they worked for themselves.
Char nodded.
“Okay, sweetheart. Send a pod for us and a second pod that we’ll fill with all the shoes your mother has bought over the years,” Terry said.
“We better tell the bureau,” Char said, standing and putting her hands on her hips. “And I don’t have that many pairs of shoes!”
WWDE + 133
San Francisco
Hangars had been built on Treasure Island to protect the pods from the harsh bay weather. Seven pods were secured inside while the eighth pod landed, carrying its executive cargo.
A large group of people, young and old, waited on the old tarmac. There wasn’t a formation, only a mob anxious to see the wayward travelers return.
Fifty years was a long time to be away. Terry had to do it, for his own health. It had taken a long time to still the fires that burned within. The consuming rage that drove him to the edge and then wore him down.
The blow struck in Paris had driven the surviving Forsaken deep underground. Akio knew that some survived, but those Forsaken had disappeared and hadn’t been hea
rd from since.
Eve was monitoring and everyone else was going about their business. Akio had reached the maximum number of pods that could be built at ten. He’d kept two with him, a primary and a backup, because no matter what else, he remained Bethany Anne’s representative while she was gone. No matter how much the FDG did, Earth was still Akio’s responsibility.
And the FDG was Terry’s, although after the Second Battle of Paris, he and Char had taken a long vacation. They had left San Francisco behind, but they weren’t gone either.
The comm devices had allowed them to stay in touch. Terry knew where everyone was and what they were doing. For fifty years, he’d remained behind the scenes supporting the good people who wore the logo of the unit that he’d created.
He’d personally led the FDG for sixty years, building it up from four men to the global force that it had become. He was proud of it, but for it to evolve, he needed to step back.
Leaving his kids in charge, he hadn’t stepped very far. They brought their own unique perspective to the Force, but they had Terry’s moral compass. What he liked the most was the balance that four people carried. No one or two personalities could overwhelm the others.
When Terry and Char walked off the pod, a blast of cold air shocked them back to their new reality. Their shorts and short-sleeve shirts didn’t provide much warmth in the cool of a San Francisco winter.
Cory smiled and shook her head, removing her jacket to give to her mother. Ramses gave Cordelia his jacket, leaving Terry and Ramses without coats. They tipped their chins to each other proudly. They’d tough it out together.
Sarah Jennifer and Sylvia stood behind their parents, looking like unruly teens. They shuffled their feet, arms crossed and looking down at the ground.
Kae and Marcie were there, wearing all black in the new uniform style that they had designed, purchased, and distributed. They leaned casually, in a way reminiscent of James Dean. Kimber and Auburn stood tall.
Auburn and a few others had taken the trip to Japan for a visit to the pod doc. He was enhanced and looked ten years younger than he did fifty years prior.
Mary Ellen and William waited patiently behind them. They had chosen regular lives and as hard as it was for Kae and Marcie to watch them grow old, the parents respected the children’s decision.
They both smiled peacefully, wrinkles around their eyes from years of squinting in the sunshine. And smiling. The two were the wealthiest people in all San Francisco because of the transloading facilities they had built and ran in Alameda. They expanded the infrastructure.
Kaeden and Marcie’s children had created a whole new world full of opportunity and promise. Neither Mary Ellen nor William had had children of their own, which Terry and Char were sorry to see, but they’d learned to respect all their grandchildren’s decisions, not just the ones they agreed with.
Kailin had gone to Japan with his father to get time in the pod doc. He had gone when he was young, so he perpetually looked like a lad of seventeen. Terry was curious if that had been his intent. He was a happy-go-lucky boy, even though he was over fifty.
Terry and Char hugged their family, one by one, before turning to the pack.
Sue and Timmons, Butch and Skippy, and Shonna and Merrit. The Werewolves had all come home.
Gene, Fu, Anastasia, and Bogdan. The Werebear’s children had made the trip to Japan, too, as had Fu. When her first gray hair appeared, Gene had turned into such a blubbering mess that the rest of the pack intervened to convince Fu that she couldn’t leave Gene alone. What they meant was that they didn’t want to look out for a despondent Werebear. She agreed readily once Aaron and Yanmei explained the process to her in her native Chinese.
Fu had lived decades away from China, but Chinese was her first language. She always translated in her mind, to and from her native tongue.
“The whole gang is here. It looks like the Weretigers have us outnumbered,” Char said before warmly greeting Aaron, Yanmei, and their six children. The Werecubs’ nanocytes learned how to transform the cats into humans when they reached two. According to Aaron, it was all downhill after that.
Char briefly wondered what they were doing in San Francisco. The last she heard, the cubs were scattered around China. They looked like strapping youth, three sons and three daughters.
Joseph, Petricia, and Andrew were there, too, having been recently awakened. Andrew had gone to sleep immediately after the Second Battle of Paris, but Joseph and Petricia had courted and married, as was the custom he’d grown up with in Europe, hundreds of years earlier. They lived, enjoying life as it was meant to be and not as their Forsaken souls might have once dictated.
Terry, Char, and the pack had plenty of time to catch up. The Waltons had come home.
CHAPTER TWO
San Francisco
The San Francisco garrison was only five-hundred-people strong, but the FDG numbered nearly five thousand. The rest were deployed at garrisons and outposts across the globe.
Terry had masterminded the establishment, but Kimber had made it all happen. Like she’d done in Portland, where there were now three hundred warriors and their families.
The ones she’d left there originally had mostly passed away, but their legacy was in the growth of the area. One of the main trading ports with San Francisco was Portland, because of the infrastructure that had been built using FDG manpower.
And womanpower. There had been a food fight of magnanimous proportions when the men of the Force heard about the Portland women. Kimber ended up drawing lots from the mass of volunteers. Out of five hundred warriors, she’d received four hundred and thirty-two volunteers to go to Portland.
She picked fifty, knowing that once they made it there, they wouldn’t be heard from again.
And they weren’t. She had had to send an additional fifty to make sure the post remained staffed. Service wasn’t the issue. It was the distractions, as Kimber thought of them.
Cory understood. She and Ramses spent an entire year helping the group assimilate and working to make the garrison family-friendly. The way that North Chicago had once been.
A warrior’s duties were best served when they could see what they were fighting for. Families. Community.
In the years after the fall, people fought to survive. Even as advanced as San Francisco had become, they didn’t care about the world outside, about an ideal greater than themselves. They only survived, just in a different way.
Terry Henry Walton and the Force de Guerre changed all that.
Marcie, Kim, Kae, Ramses, and six people that Terry had never seen before were waiting in the FDG conference room on Treasure Island.
Marcie called the room to attention when the colonel entered. Terry stopped. It had been a long time.
Maybe too long.
“Colonel,” Terry said to Marcie. The corner of her lip twitched into a small smile. “Majors.”
Marcie had the edge that the others did not. They were professionals, but she had that little bit extra that made her most like Terry Henry Walton. When the question came of who would replace the colonel, even Kimber recommended Marcie.
Marcie could see the bigger world, removing the humans from humanity, while making the world a better place for the people. It was a difficult balancing act.
And she was merciless when it came to enemies. She gave them one chance, before becoming their worst nightmare.
“No better friend. No worse enemy,” Terry said as he started the meeting, looking at Marcie. She held his gaze until he nodded. “You have stayed true to the principles on which the FDG was established. Integrity before all things and dedication to something greater than yourself. You have done well.”
No one smiled. They nodded in appreciation of the compliment, but as Terry Henry had always said, they were just doing their jobs.
It didn’t matter that those jobs would not have existed had they not done them. No one ordered them. It was their calling and they embraced it.
Marcie stood and
looked at her family. “Where do we go from here?”
“Good question,” Terry replied. “We tour all the garrisons, all the outposts. We take the pack and we test them. I’d say unannounced inspections, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt, least of all, me.”
Char leaned forward and everyone turned toward the movement. “An announced, unannounced inspection,” she suggested. Terry tipped his chin to encourage her to expound. “You and Marcie show up after having already dropped the rest of us off. We’ll conduct an infiltration effort. All of us, which will be the single greatest attack they will have ever seen. Or probably not seen, since we’ll be standing in the compound before they realize anyone is there.”
Marcie furled her brow and pursed her lips. “Let’s give them a chance. I think you may find them a harder nut to crack than that.”
“The game is afoot!” Terry exclaimed.
“Leave tomorrow?” Char asked.
“We just got here. You don’t want to go shopping?” Terry asked, giving Char a sly look.
“No. Although I do need to replace a number of pairs of shoes that someone made me leave behind.” Char inclined her head giving Terry the hairy eyeball.
He looked behind him and then pointed at his chest. “You’re talking about me? Who can make you do anything you don’t want to do?”
“Ever since you seduced me, you’ve been making that claim,” Char said softly.
“Who climbed in whose bed wearing nothing but panties and breathing hot Werewolf air all over me?”
“Whoa!” Kaeden yelled. “That’s enough of that. You two need to get a room and work out your frustrations.”
“We have a whole house that needs to be broken in, sweetie,” Char replied.
“Make it stop!” Kimber cried, covering her ears. Cory followed suit, slapping her hands over her furry wolf ears.
Terry and Char both laughed, before Terry sat down. Marcie stood and pointed to a map pinned to the wall.
Nomad Omnibus 03: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 64