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

by Craig Martelle

  “No idea,” Char replied, still in a foul mood.

  “They disappeared for one hundred and thirty-five years. I’ll be damned. Even Butch and Skippy had no idea. Whatever the trigger was, they are flooding back from all corners of nowhere.”

  “With the NAPC, at least we can keep track of them without having to chase their dumb asses down,” Char suggested.

  “As the alpha, can’t you assign a deputy to take all these fucked up reports?” Terry asked. “It seems like we know a bunch of people who are good at paperwork.”

  A smile spread slowly across Char’s face. “Like Joshua’s step-monster?”

  “Exactly like. Maybe you can tell her that’s what you call her.” Terry was ready to do something physical, like search China on foot for the Qin Clan. He wanted to do anything other than sit around in the conference room and take calls.

  Char set her device on the table and held out her hand for Terry’s. Hers buzzed, and she ignored it. She punched a couple buttons.

  “No, Sue, it’s Char,” she said pleasantly. “I was just thinking about you and wondered how you were doing.” Char nodded. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Yep. You see right through me. Tell Timmons to pack a lunch because you two are fucked upside-down and sideways. Conference Room as soon as you can get here. Thanks, Sue, I owe you. Uh huh. Okay, you’re right. I don’t owe you shit.”

  Char clicked off.

  “That sounded like an interesting conversation.”

  Char looked up at him for a moment, then went back to straightening up. When Sue arrived, disheveled from being woken from a nap, Char gave her a three-minute rundown of her duties, with the direction that she could grab anyone from the pack except Ted to put on comm and Were tracking duty.

  Terry watched Char efficiently hand off all her duties, brush her hands off and splay her fingers to show that her hands were empty. She smiled and walked away.

  “You have the conn, number one,” Terry said in his best Jean Luc Picard voice. He followed Char out.

  Terry steered Char toward the housing area as he wasn’t sure where she was going. She seemed to just be walking. “Let’s go see if Aaron and Yanmei want to go on a walkabout of China. And if they don’t want to go, we’ll see what it’ll take until they do want to go.”

  “Sounds good,” Char replied.

  Terry was worried. Char looked shell-shocked.

  “Are you okay, love muffin?” Terry asked.

  She stopped and turned toward him. “I thought I told you never to call me that.”

  “You did, but I’m fresh out of smelling salts.”

  “The wheel is come full circle: I am here,” Char quoted from King Lear.

  “From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: they sparkle still the right Promethean fire; they are the books, the arts, the academes, that show, contain, and nourish all the world,” Terry replied from Love’s Labor Lost.

  “Aren’t we a pair?”

  “A match made on the world’s stage, where we are merely players. What a great life we’ve had, Char. I wonder what the next hundred years will bring.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “I think the Qin Clan better start running!”

  “Why? So they can die tired?” Char parried.

  “Exactly.”

  WWDE + 136

  Wuhai, China

  “She’s where?” Terry asked.

  “Back in Portland. She went to see that boy. The dirigibles are plying the west coast, so she hopped a ride. She is eighteen,” Cory explained.

  “Magnus Tolliver, my arch nemesis,” Terry said slowly and clearly into the comm device.

  “He’s not your arch nemesis,” Cory said, laughing.

  “All right. Maybe not. Next time you talk with her, remind her to keep training. If you think it’s okay, maybe she can join us out here, in the vast desert of inland China. It’s like the Fallen Lands, except worse.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the sales pitch you want to make, but she’ll probably go for it anyway. It’s just cheesy enough.”

  “And who doesn’t like cheese?” Terry countered.

  “Love you, Dad. You, too, Mom! I know you can hear me!” Cory called before signing off.

  Aaron, Yanmei, and two of their cubs, Daquan and Fen, had been strolling the Chinese countryside for months. They hadn’t gotten a single sniff of another Weretiger. From town to town they went, looking for signs.

  “The Qin Clan is so secret, even they don’t know they exist,” Terry pondered.

  “We’ve covered less than ten percent of the country,” Aaron suggested. Terry pulled out a paper map.

  “I believe that the trip past inner Mongolia was less than fruitful, to say the least. Methodically we walk, step after plodding step,” Terry intoned. Daquan and Fen nodded vigorously, and both started to speak at once but stopped when Terry continued. “We follow the Yellow River through this region, turning east at Wuzhong toward Shijiazhuang. We continue due east, through the center of the country until we hit the coast. Then maybe we’ll take a boat, check out all the big towns, all the way to Hong Kong and beyond.”

  “I agree with this course of action,” Char said mechanically. Aaron and Yanmei started speaking Chinese with their children.

  Terry’s comm device buzzed. It was Timmons.

  “Joshua’s gone,” the Werewolf stated.

  “Gone how? He’s dead?” Terry asked. Char moved closer to hear better.

  “No. He’s disappeared along with dozens of other Weres,” Timmons explained.

  “That’s a different story. On that little bit of information, I would suspect an uprising. Is he starting his own pack?”

  “I don’t think so. They disappeared at different times from different places, it seems.”

  “Did you check ships, dirigibles, see if they were looking for change of scenery?”

  “Hang on,” Timmons said.

  Terry and Char looked at each other as they waited. The others sat around until Terry rolled his finger in the air. Time to go.

  As he stood, the comm device buzzed. “Timmons,” he said.

  “Thank God! He’s on the dirigible, by himself, with a ticket to Denver.”

  “The ship will stop in Chicago. Give Gerry a call and ask him to speak with Joshua, make sure things are okay,” Terry suggested. Char nodded in agreement.

  “Will do, TH, and thank you.”

  “What’s he thanking me for?” Terry asked. The others shrugged.

  Char held out her hand for the device. After Terry handed it over, she mashed a couple buttons and waited.

  “Gerry. I’m appointing you the alpha of the NAPC. They need someone who is present, with the calm that comes from wisdom learned over the years. I need you to do this for me, Gerry.”

  There was a long hesitation. Char held the device out so she and Terry could both hear his response.

  “I am old, Char. You know how we age. When we hit that magic point, we start getting old quickly. I already look different from the last time you saw me. I’m not sure I have the energy to carry out your orders, my alpha,” the man replied.

  “No one is better suited to know when to pull the bullshit lever. You won’t get distracted by the minutiae that plagues the young. You’ll keep your eye on the strategic objective, which is to keep the Unknown World hidden, while helping keep the Werewolves working in conjunction with humanity to make the world a better place. Easy as pie.”

  “Not so much,” Gerry countered.

  “Done deal, Gerry. Hop the dirigible and run out to Denver and see what’s going on. We left a few knuckleheads there who deserved the beatings they got. They were selling their blood! By all that’s holy, what kind of crap is that? Timmons will be calling. No, the father. He’ll tell you about Weres disappearing. Fly to New York City and meet with the groups. Calm them down, and if you can, find out where they are going.”

  “Yes, my alpha,” the old Werewolf said softly.

  “Done.” Char shut down the dev
ice and handed it back to TH.

  “Time to see what we can see,” Terry said, standing again. They’d been sitting on logs around a small campfire that they’d made. The Weretigers had gone hunting and returned with a half-eaten goat. Terry had not asked. He had butchered what was left and unspoiled by Weretiger drool for he and Char to eat.

  There wasn’t anything left over. They’d have to hunt again. It was a daily thing. They burned an incredible amount of energy as they jogged through the countryside.

  They had been walking, but realized it would take years to cover what they wanted to cover. The scenery was nice, but it looked the same whether they were walking or running.

  “Onward, fearless travelers,” Terry said magnanimously.

  Vancouver

  Tac Team Bravo settled into the hills overlooking the small town outside of what used to be Vancouver. Gene and Bogdan had wanted to hunt bigger game like elk. They’d heard rumors that Were were in the area and decided to hunt, gather intel, and train.

  They stopped going to areas with active reporting, thanks to the NAPC and its Were mafia.

  And thanks to Akio for the comm devices that they’d distributed far and wide, keyed to the NAPC to keep those with other ideas from listening in on private FDG and tac team communications.

  That was the plan.

  It also meant a boring existence. Each of the tac teams were looking for something, anything to do. Char wanted to limit conflict with the Werewolves, so she let them know that each group would get an annual unannounced visit. And to keep them on their toes, she added that they may get two visits, but no more than that.

  She had no intention of sending the tac teams in twice, for everyone’s sanity. As long as the visit validated what the packs were reporting, there were no issues.

  There had been no issues. The tac teams liked action so they were starting to get creative, like going to Vancouver based on a single unsubstantiated rumor.

  “Nothing,” Gene said. “Now we hunt.”

  He waved to Bogdan and they headed into the woods.

  “Nothing,” Kaeden mimicked. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, Major,” Edwin replied. He wanted to go hunting with the Werebears, but team procedure dictated that they always have at least two together.

  “What do you say we go take a look?” Kae suggested, getting up and straightening his gear, keeping his rifle on its combat sling and ready to put into action. Edwin did the same thing and the two walked toward the small town.

  The FDG had been there before, but whether the people remembered them or not was a different question.

  Children at the edge of town screamed when Kae and Edwin trudged through the brush and onto a rough path. They waved to no avail as the children stopped screaming long enough to run.

  An adult woman appeared, grabbed the children, and hurried back into a home, slamming the door behind her.

  “I’m not sure that’s the behavior of people who are dealing with nothing.” The two men looked around for signs of something strange. Nothing seemed obvious.

  Nothing, except the children’s terror.

  “We know there are people in that one. Let’s ask them what the hell is going on.” Kae marched straight to the door and banged on it.

  “My name is Kaeden and I’m with the Force de Guerre. I am not a threat to you. You can just yell through the door if that is more comfortable for you, but what is going on? Why are you so afraid?”

  “Go away!” came the reply.

  “Why?” Kae pressed.

  “They come from there, where you came from. You could be them!”

  “Them who?” Kae waited but she didn’t expound. “You were letting your children play out there, but now you’re terrified? Please help me understand. We may be able to protect you if we know what the danger is.”

  “A man, dressed in black, turns into a wolf right before our eyes! He’s been taking our livestock. Anyone stands in his way gets bitten. You dress in black,” she explained, finding a more normal tone of voice.

  “We will try to find this individual and stop him. Have a nice day, ma’am.”

  Kae and Edwin checked their weapons. “Time to hunt down a Werewolf?” Edwin asked.

  “Time to hunt down two Werebears who can tell us where the Werewolf is. And then we have a nice conversation.” The two men headed back toward the woods.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Chicago

  Kimber and Auburn had convinced Tac Team Alpha that they needed to find Joseph and Petricia. Marcie, Ramses, and Cory had agreed. They’d seen what it had done to Terry Henry before he left.

  They figured it was why he left.

  He’d hidden from the world for twenty years after the world’s worst day ever, because of the tragedy in his life. He carried everything inside. His kids knew that better than anyone.

  Terry carried the burden of every death, whether he could have done something to prevent them or not. He needed time away for his sanity. Or he needed nonstop action.

  Fifty years away? That was the perfect amount of time, because no action took place. No war, no Forsaken uprising, no evil to put down.

  “Dad is either all on or needs to be gone,” Kimber suggested. Nick and Tyson simply listened. They were given insight into the legend that was Terry Henry Walton because of their position in the tac teams, but they had no input on most of the private conversations within the Walton family.

  Had they tried, they feared they would have been pushed further to the outside than they already felt.

  “The trial of the ultimate warrior. You may think Mom pulls the strings, but no. Dad is biding his time. He doesn’t choose his battles lightly. If he was here, we’d be training as if we had to fight the devil in Hell. And when we descended into the pit of fire, you know he’d be at the front, first burned and first to shoot back. After my time with Akio, I understand him a whole lot better,” Marcie offered.

  “And?” Cory asked in a friendly voice. She wanted to know more, too.

  “It’s war. Dad is lost without it. Whenever he’s not preparing for or in combat, he has to find something else to do. He is incapable of calming his mind.”

  “He can relax. I’ve seen him sit on the beach for hours watching the water and sipping that god-awful beer of his,” Kimber replied.

  “Relaxing the body and relaxing the mind are two different things. While he is looking at the water, his mind is a million miles away, in a history book reading about war, in the battles that he has fought, in his imagination of battles yet to come. The shock and horror of combat is where he finds peace.”

  No one had an answer to that. They’d all been in combat, and they were good at it. They were warriors, but it took a long time after the last drop of blood was spilled before they could calm down. Except for Marcie. She knew how Terry Henry felt because she felt it, too. She still had enough control to calm her mind. Terry was well beyond that.

  She wanted to be like him, but she didn’t. “Let’s find Joseph and then get the fuck out of here. If we can reunite Joseph and Dad, everyone will be better off. He’s got Mom traipsing around China. There’s no way she can be digging that,” Marcie said.

  “You got that right,” Cory replied.

  The group spread out as they walked toward the city.

  New York City

  Shonna and Merrit had joined Tac Team Echo, which had been trapped in San Francisco. The Werewolves wanted to go to New York City. They heard there was a play starting up on Broadway.

  With the oldster called Gerry in charge of the NAPC, they abandoned their duties in the comm center, snagged a pod, and raced across the country. They landed the pod in what used to be Central Park. It had gone to hell and was heavily overgrown. Decent people didn’t go there anymore.

  Even indecent people didn’t go there.

  The human leadership of the city was starting to crack down. They had established a police force, one of the first in the recovering world. Sue an
d Timmons looked at each other with sour expressions.

  They loved the old city in the before time, but after seeing what was possible, hearing the hope for a brighter future that Butch and Skippy had shared, made them want a New York City with all the glamor and none of the grit.

  Too late. They had power and a subway system, real jobs, and commerce. They also had drugs, crime, and gangs.

  Terry and Char had dealt with a New York City gang a long time before. It hadn’t ended well for the gang.

  Shonna pointed to a new billboard. “Do you think they’ll make a difference?”

  Peace Enforcers, it said.

  “Absolutely,” Merrit replied. “But will it be for good or bad?”

  Butch and Skippy contemplated it. “We’ll give them a chance. Let’s try to get tickets to the show. Then we’ll snoop about for a bit.”

  They walked south from the ruins of Central Park to find which theater was operating.

  They found it close to Capital Square, what used to be Times Square. The ticket office was closed with a handwritten note stuffed into the broken window apologizing that the show would not go on.

  “They used to say that the show must go on!” Sue declared, slamming a fist into her hand.

  “Times have changed,” Skippy replied. “A lot.”

  The Werewolves took a disappointing walk around mid-town, pounded two different groups of muggers, both too drugged up to be any real threat, and passed small teams of uniformed Peace Enforcers who carried electrified batons.

  Arc rods, they were called.

  They stopped for a nice dinner, but it was crowded and after a long wait, turned out to be overpriced and not as good as they hoped.

  Timmons started to laugh.

  “How many times did we see this exact same thing? A new place would open. A few people would rave about it. Everyone would flock to it, then the quality would suck. In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, no one goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”

  Vancouver

  The two Werebears stopped hunting elk. They turned their attention to the Werewolf pack that was hunting elk. There weren’t supposed to be any Weres in the area.