Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  “Felicity, my dearest love, yes! We work for the people, not them for us. The little help we provide makes their day! And it makes mine, too. I feel more alive, more loving, more in touch with the people we need to carry us all back to the modern world, Felicity. My greatest desire is to drive a car so you can ride everywhere you want to go,” he said with a smile, tenderly caressing her face.

  In reality, he didn’t want to be digging in the dirt alone. She was starting to understand that he learned more from her than she intended.

  “Why, of course, you’re right, Billy dear. How could I have not seen that?” she replied, kissing him on the cheek, but not leaning too close. He was wearing the same pants he’d been wearing for nearly a month straight. Felicity burned his other clothes and gave away his last pair of pants to Char. He only had two shirts left as well, and had taken to wearing the same one every day. She decided that her hasty actions in burning all his clothes were ill-advised, and in his way, he was making her pay for it.

  Touché.

  They headed into the great outdoors, turning east toward the morning sun for a cool stroll to the greenhouses and fields. The fresh air smelled good. The crispness of fall approached, even though it was still late summer. Billy felt good about the direction the town was going. He looked in the direction of the power plant, seeing the lights twinkling. He couldn’t hear the hum of the natural gas-fired system, but he knew it was there.

  Felicity could feel Billy’s good mood and decided that she’d be in a good mood, too.

  * * *

  Terry greeted Billy and Felicity as he and the others ran past on their way to the greenhouses. He deposited his charges one at a time at their usual places. He liked the relationships they’d built with each of the farmers, seeing that they’d become more integrated with the community. From village toughs to hard-working partners. It was amazing what a little adult leadership could do. And excising a cancer like John. Some people just don’t deserve to coexist with decent folk, Terry thought and added, It’s not the Spanish Inquisition, just a little haircut, that’s all.

  Devlin was dropped at the first greenhouse, joining his new friends, Ivan with the second, then Jim, and Mark in the fourth. Char joined Terry although he tried to drop her at the fourth greenhouse. She wasn’t going there because she suspected that was where Billy and Felicity would end up. It was the largest of the five.

  Terry didn’t want to fight, so he quickly capitulated, plus he had an ulterior motive. Over the weeks, he’d been consolidating a variety of pots and vats for his first attempt at making beer. He needed Char to work while he played.

  When they arrived, the farmers were pleased as usual and even had fresh, warm buns sweetened with wild honey. Terry liked civilization and it seemed that Char did, too. Who wouldn’t when they were treated like that?

  “Beer, my good man! Today is the day,” Terry told Pepe Morales. His family had immigrated at some point in the past, but none of that mattered anymore. In the here and now, Terry considered Pepe to be a hero, because he selflessly grubbed in the dirt so others could eat.

  Pepe grinned and slapped Terry on the back as they headed outdoors.

  They had malted the barley a week prior, by taking the grain, adding water, letting it start to germinate, then removing the water and drying the barley. Pepe put a three-gallon pot of water on the fire. They needed to get the water hot, add the malted barley, and stir it together to release the starches from the grains. That process would take one to two hours, then they’d drain that, using the grain bed as the filter. Terry wanted a second sparging, as it was called, to flush as much starch from the mash as he could.

  Then they’d boil the drained off liquid to reduce the water in the mixture and bring out the full flavor of what would become beer. Once that was done, they’d pour the mixture into a fermenting tank, where they’d add yeast, a rough concoction that Pepe had been working on for years with the help of his wife. Once the yeast was added, they’d put that vessel in as cool a place as possible for anywhere up to a month.

  Starting today, beer in a month. Char didn’t see the allure in any of it. She’d had beer before, probably even too much of it, but she never liked the taste. Of all things to bring back, she wondered why Terry wasn’t working on champagne. She’d mentioned it more than once and Margie Rose concurred. A chilled bottle of champagne would be incomparable.

  Terry brushed them both off with a claim that there were no grapes. Char told him she’d seen grapes in the mountains, but he wasn’t convinced and even if he had been, he was not going into the mountains looking for grapes.

  She assured him there was no danger, but he didn’t know if that was just a lure to deliver him to the rest of the pack or what. He wouldn’t risk it. No grapes and no champagne.

  He told her that he was brewing the champagne of beers.

  Two hours of weeding for Pepe’s wife and Char, followed closely by an hour of picking ripe vegetables while the men played with the fire, keeping the mixture from boiling as they stirred and mixed. Although they were outside, the smell of the boiling wort permeated the greenhouse, completely befouling the air. Maria, Pepe’s wife, went outside more than once to give a hearty what-for to the men. Char could hear her clearly railing on her husband with implications for Terry as well. The men took the tongue-lashing like champions, apologizing profusely, but they couldn’t move the heated wort at that point. Live and learn. Marie cast serious doubt on whether there would be a next time.

  Once she left and was out of earshot, Char could hear the two men talking. “Next time, we go downwind. Man, is this going to be good. I may have to give up my life as the security chief…” Followed by chuckles and snickers.

  Char and Maria wrapped up and sat down at a small table by the front door to the greenhouse. Maria made tea from leaves that she herself had cultivated. She added thinly sliced ginger root, for a little extra kick. When the men came inside for a drink of water, they looked surprised to see that the inside work had been suspended.

  “What? You two idiots stink this place up while you’re playing, and you expect us to work?” Maria jabbed. Terry and Pepe were covered in sweat and reeked to high heaven. There was no doubt that they were working hard at what they were doing, but Maria believed their efforts were of no value.

  “But-but…” Pepe stammered, looking longingly at the tea. Maria shook her head and pointed for him to go to the hand pump that fed their rudimentary irrigation system.

  Terry watched, trying to stay out of Maria’s line of sight. Char eyed him, wiggling her fingers to wave at him as she sat relaxed with her feet propped up on a rough-hewn stand, nursing her cup of tea. Terry closed his eyes. He felt like he was married, but with none of the good stuff. He couldn’t share his secrets with Char, but she was always there. She needled him silently as if willing him to break or just to get a rise and have a laugh. When he opened his eyes, she was still smiling at him, then she held her nose and waved him away.

  Terry walked over to the pump. “You know, Pepe, this better be the best fucking beer I’ve ever tasted,” Terry admitted glumly.

  “I’m with you there, partner,” Pepe said as he tried to wash in the trickle of water that the pump delivered. The farmer stripped bare and rinsed out his clothes. Terry joined him as they wrung out their clothes, wet them, then wrung them out again. They heard voices and turned to find Maria, Char, Billy, and Felicity watching them. Pepe started to flail, but Terry stopped him.

  “This is where lesser men fail, my friend,” Terry told Pepe, before looking at the assembled group. Felicity ogled him appreciatively, while Char covered her mouth, trying to keep from laughing. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be out back drying our clothes. We invite you not to join us.” Terry turned, sniffed a flower, grabbed a cherry tomato, and popped it in his mouth as he strolled leisurely toward the back door.

  * * *

  Sawyer wanted to hurt somebody.

  His head was still fuzzy and his eye continued to hur
t. At least the swelling was finally going down. He was not up for another horse ride, although he knew he would have to make the trip. No one stood up to Sawyer Brown like that and lived to tell about it. He felt like he’d lost the respect of his men. That idiot Jagoff seemed to be a new leader among the ingrates.

  “Jagoff!” Sawyer yelled from his couch. A young man entered. “I didn’t call for you, Asswipe!” he bellowed.

  “Sorry, boss. Jagoff is out in the field with the horses,” the man pleaded from the doorway, afraid to enter.

  “What the hell is he doing out there?”

  “The horses have taken ill. One’s dead and another is in trouble,” the man replied.

  “Which horses?” Sawyer asked, suspecting he knew the answer.

  “The two that you returned with.”

  Sawyer pulled himself upright and swayed as he stood, then staggered out the door, cuffing the young man in the head as he passed. He stumbled down the road, because he wasn’t able to focus clearly on the ground. A rock seemed to jump up and trip him. When he realized he was falling, it was too late. With a thud and a grunt, Sawyer Brown landed on his face in the dirt.

  “That fucking bitch dies for what she did to me. I will peel the skin from her body one strip at a time,” the big man swore to mother earth beneath him. “She dies... Asswipe!”

  The young man helped Sawyer to his feet and as much as it pained him to ask for help, he wrapped a big arm around the other man’s shoulders for support. Together they continued out of their small town and to the stable where the horses were kept. They hadn’t taken that many horses in the raid into what used to be Kansas, and with the loss of the six on their ill-fated trip north, they were down to six healthy nags.

  That wasn’t enough to make a quick raid north. He decided that he’d take everybody on his next trip out, accepting that it would take as long as it took. Most of them would walk, but they’d get there eventually and with the full weight of his people, they’d wipe out the upstarts and take everything they owned. Purple eyes was his. She would die by his hand, slowly.

  For the first time since she pounded his head, he started to think clearly. He continued to stumble along, but finally, his thoughts weren’t scrambled.

  That made him happy until he arrived to find that the second horse had died, too.

  “Something they ate, boss. I think when we jumped off the road just after we started our return here,” Jagoff told him, refusing to say the words that drove the boss into a frenzy. After we got our asses handed to us by a girl and a guy…

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  With the beer doing what it needed to do in a crock pot vat Terry had acquired, he and Pepe shook hands. Together, they cheered their brewing success, then went back to the real work.

  For Terry, that meant collecting the boys and getting them ready to leave tomorrow on their first military expedition. They were heading out on an S&D.

  A search and destroy operation.

  Terry and Char walked from the greenhouse while Pepe was busy apologizing to his wife, working overtime to get back into her good graces.

  Terry felt no such need with Char. At least his clothes weren’t infused with barley wort. They were still moist, but he couldn’t wait any longer for them to dry. “Thank you for joining the peep show. Next time, maybe a little heads up? Poor Pepe was shaken to his core.”

  “I saw that you weren’t,” she countered.

  “Are you kidding me? At that moment in time, I was on top of the world. We had just brewed the first batch of beer in twenty years. I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t get any better than that, plus, good Marine Corps training. Once you’ve lost the battle, take it with dignity and grace, then regroup for a royal ass-kicking,” Terry explained.

  “Is that what we’re doing now, regrouping?” Char watched him closely. “May I call you TH?”

  “Interesting train of thought you have. You see me naked and now you want to be friendly,” he taunted her. “Yes, you may, just until I tell you you can’t and please, not in front of the others. Deal?”

  Char nodded, then rolled her finger, expecting the answer to her other question.

  He continued looking around as they talked. “We won the first battle, so we aren’t regrouping, they are. That means we are on our way to win the war. The next skirmish with these ass clowns will be their last. We’re taking the fight to them, which means I’ll need your help in tracking them, and Clyde’s. I think he’ll probably be able to lead us right to them,” Terry suggested.

  Char furled her brow. “Why do you think I’m good at tracking, TH?” she asked as if accusing him of slander.

  “I’m a good judge of people. If you’re not, that’s fine. I’ll admit I was wrong and we move on. No disrespect intended, Char,” Terry countered.

  She shook her head. “None taken,” she replied. “I’ll be able to help, but I think we can trust Clyde to get us there. Can’t we, boy?” She ruffled the dog’s head, remembering that Clyde was with them.

  He had disappeared when the wort started to cook, and showed back up when his pack left the greenhouse.

  They walked for a while in silence, Terry carrying a woven bag with a small amount of vegetables. When they reached the fourth greenhouse, they collected Mark, who carried an armload of produce, after having just helped his friends load their cart for a trip to the mayor’s house and to make deliveries throughout their small town.

  Then they picked up Jim, finding that Billy and Felicity were there, visiting. Felicity smiled at Terry until Billy pulled on her arm.

  “She’ll never look at you the same way again,” Char teased. Terry only shook his head, unable to make eye contact with the young woman. Terry walked away from the others and waved Billy to him.

  “We’re taking the horses and leaving at dawn. We’ll find that motherfucker and we’ll put an end to his adventurism. Then we’ll look for that stash of weapons I know must be down there. Maybe that’s where he got his stocks, but I don’t think so. What I think is hidden would be American-made,” Terry Henry told the mayor.

  Billy thought about saying something sarcastic about not being given an option regarding whether the FDG left or not, but they’d already decided after Sawyer Brown’s attack that Terry was going to take the battle to them. He thought about trying to come up with a motivational speech, but Terry probably would think it condescending. He settled for something simple. “Good luck,” Billy said, holding out his hand. Terry shook it, then waved at Char as he headed down the road.

  * * *

  Sawyer was feeling stronger with each new day. He walked by himself, albeit slowly, but at least the ground didn’t move anymore when he walked over it. The only thing he thought about during the walks was what he would do to Purple Eyes after he watched his men gun down Terry Henry Walton. Maybe he’d start by shooting her kneecaps so she couldn’t jump in his face. Then she’d be at his mercy. He’d start by removing her clothes quickly, but then he’d remove her skin slowly. Starting with her back and working his way forward. He could hear her screams in his mind as she begged him to stop, as she pleaded with him for mercy, that she’d do anything for him if he’d make the pain go away.

  “Yes, my pretty, we’ll make the pain go away, in the end, after you’ve put up with as much of it as you can’t believe you can tolerate. Slowly, my pretty. Perfection can’t be rushed,” he talked out loud.

  No one was nearby as he continued to hear her screams. Yes, more of that, he thought.

  Jagoff had no idea what killed the horses, but the six remaining were getting special treatment, extra grass, rubdowns, and anything the men could think of to keep them happy and healthy. The horses were filling out with the extra food, and Sawyer saw the wisdom in that. The horses were too weak on their last trip to give them the advantage of speed. For round two, he wanted to ride in fast, use the boys’ superior firepower to flood the area with bullets. Everyone needed to just die, except for Purple Eyes and any other woman they found. Sawyer w
anted a cook and a plaything. He expected that there would be plenty of those in that town of theirs. They would do anything to have their miserable lives saved, just like in the first days following the fall.

  Sawyer had taken advantage of people in that time, but then he’d given them his protection, too. Not an insignificant thing in a world without a civilized society.

  Just until he grew tired of them, then he’d turn them over to his boys when the next one came along. Then they stopped coming, and he had to find new sources for his depredations.

  It had been a long time since they’d found a new woman. That made Sawyer perpetually angry. His head felt better, but that only led him down fury road, where the only thing that mattered was revenge and taking it out on the world around him. Sharing his pain was the only way he had of dealing with it.

  And he was okay with that.

  “When can we go, you fucking morons?” Sawyer yelled at the men in the stables brushing the horses. Jagoff appeared, wearing a big, forced smile.

  “Any day now, boss. Any day! We’ve got some hooves that we’re dealing with but as soon as we find something we can use for shoes, we’ll be ready and get going. Give me three days?” Jagoff asked.

  “You have two, fuckstick,” Sawyer answered. That was all Jagoff wanted. He knew how the game was played and set it up perfectly for his boss.

  “The morning of the third day from now, we’ll ride out. What do you need from me, boss?” the man asked.

  “Everyone goes. Get them all ready. No one remains behind. Tell them to lube up their walking shoes.”

  * * *

  Dawn found the FDG on the road where they had engaged Sawyer Brown’s mob a week prior. It was the most convenient starting point between the barracks and Margie Rose’s home. They each rode easily. Six of them, all armed, saddlebags filled with food and ammunition.

  Mrs. Grimes and Margie Rose had gone overboard preparing meals for their warriors. Terry almost felt guilty, but the food was so good that he couldn’t turn it down. He felt like he was taking the team out on a picnic. From the looks on their faces, it was hard to believe that wasn’t the case.