Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Nightwatch scampered up to Terry, anxious and out of breath. “I think I saw something. Men on horses, but then it all melted back into the darkness. I thought I heard something, too, but with the wind, I couldn’t tell,” he managed to stumble through the words.

  Terry kicked dirt into the fire, and the area was plunged into darkness. Their night vision was jacked from the light, so Terry and his people stood still, willing their eyes to quickly adjust.

  After a few moments, both Terry and Char had recovered. He pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear. “Can you go out there, in the dark, quickly, scout the area, find them, how many and where, and return before it gets light?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, not even as loud as a whisper as her lips brushed against his ear, her breath hot against his skin. She backed away soundlessly and disappeared over the hill into the darkness.

  Terry pulled the men together and sat them in a tight circle. He exhaled most of the air before he started to speak, using the trick he’d been taught in the Corps. “Char’s gone out to scout. Check your weapons, gentlemen. When she gets back, we’ll develop our plan and we’ll go, try to get into position before it gets too light. When we can, we’ll take the battle to them. This is what we’ve been training for.

  “Knuckle down and control yourselves. This is an exercise in military discipline. Sight alignment and sight picture do not change just because the target is a person. When you wade into battle, don’t think about anything other than exploiting your enemy’s weakness. You must kill him before he kills you. That’s it. That’s all there is to combat. Any questions?”

  Terry knew he was rambling, but his men weren’t ready for this. He didn’t know what to tell them that would help to keep them alive. All he could do was keep their morale up, keep them motivated to fight with reckless abandon. It had been the tried and true technique of young Marines since the dawn of time.

  If Sawyer Brown and his people were out there, the FDG would have the fight of their lives. Personally, Terry knew that he couldn’t let the big man escape this time, although he suspected that Char had Sawyer’s number. He’d seen the look in her eyes when they talked. She was furious that she hadn’t killed him when she first had the chance.

  Terry wondered when she’d return.

  * * *

  Char moved quietly away from the camp, started undressing and then decided she’d do it as a human. If she got into the middle of a shitstorm, she’d change and take care of business. In the interim, she’d recon the old-fashioned way.

  She moved at an angle away from where Ivan said he’d seen people. She moved one hundred, two hundred, four hundred yards ahead, then a half-mile. She crouched and waited. Dawn was coming.

  She assumed that not being discovered was more important than hurrying, so she settled in. She could smell the campfire, even this far away, the scent of the herb and tea mixture. The musk of unwashed men, which was nowhere near as bad as wet Werewolf. It didn’t bother her. The wind prevented her from smelling anything that was ahead.

  She watched and finally it was light enough for her to see movement. At regular intervals, heads popped up, scanned the area, then disappeared. She counted to six, but the spacing suggested there would be more. They had set up in a line and were waiting. She disappeared into a dip and continued to angle away from the people she’d seen. If she could work her way in behind them, then she could learn everything they needed to know, like how many and what were they armed with.

  Char stayed low and moved quickly. She was no more than the light breeze that whipped above her. Then she turned as she was well past the last head she’d seen. She moved from behind a low mound and froze. Twenty feet away was a man peering into the darkness. She was beyond his peripheral vision, but remained frozen and agonizingly slowly, lowered herself to the ground. She never blinked as her eyes remained fixed on her target.

  She backed away on all fours, behind the mound, then moved away without a sound, to the southeast, to put as much distance as possible between her and the man on the far right of their line before she returned to the others to report what she’d found.

  The sun tipped over the horizon and light spread across the fields and rough terrain. Char felt like she’d failed.

  * * *

  Terry tried to judge the distance in the darkness but had no luck. He watched and waited, but patience when a battle was coming was not his strong suit. He wanted to do something. He wanted to know. As the sun spread its light, he heard a whistle from not far off, a light sound, barely more than the last breath of air passing one’s teeth.

  “I’m on my way in. Don’t shoot me,” Char said in a low voice that only Terry could hear.

  “She’s back,” Terry said, breathing a sigh of relief. Nightwatch had moved back into the OP. Jim and Devlin were to the sides, faced outboard with rifles at the ready, while Mark kept his eyes fixed on Ivan, looking for any early warning. Terry would have been pacing if he thought he could stand without being seen.

  Char crouched as she worked her way between two low mounds on the east side of the impromptu camp. She’d passed the hobbled horses on the way as they continued to graze the scrub. Clyde yipped in excitement at the return of his alpha, but Terry grabbed him quickly by the scruff of the neck so he and Char could pet him and keep him from giving away their position.

  “They know we’re here,” she started, then picked up a stick. “They’re set up on this side of the road, in a line, like this.” She drew in the dirt. Terry expanded the diagram and built a full map showing their position and what they knew of the enemy.

  “Maybe fifteen men. Could be thirty. Armed with AKs, which tells me that it’s Sawyer Brown. I didn’t see him, so I can’t tell you where he is. I’m sorry,” she ended. Terry looked at his map and asked Char to adjust the scale so he could better visualize a way to hit them.

  “How long do you think it would take us, trying to move silently, to get behind them?” Terry asked. Char looked at the ground and back at the scrub from which she’d recently emerged.

  “An hour, maybe more?”

  Terry exhaled heavily.

  “I think they’ll figure something out by then,” Terry said slowly, thinking as he went. He loved the sand table exercises in the Marine Corps because they taught him how to plan better, use everything available to keep his people as safe as possible while completing the mission. Usually, it was the destruction of the enemy.

  It wouldn’t be any different this time.

  “What do you think, Char? They gonna fall for the same routine as last time?” She laughed and shook her head.

  “Not a chance, TH. So, I’m guessing that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Maybe having Clyde with us, they’ll be more congenial, and won’t shoot first,” she suggested.

  The morning was cool, but not cold. The smell of sage filled the air, with no trace of smoke from the fire remaining. The sun was split on the horizon as it lifted toward a cloudless sky.

  “Mark, call Ivan to us,” Terry ordered with the plan firmly in his mind. When the four men gathered, he told them what they needed to do and sent them into the scrub with a warning to stay low and not be seen.

  Terry and Char started the fire and heated their pot for one last cup of their brew before this started. Terry stood and played fetch with Clyde for a little while, stealing glances back toward the road. He ran up a mound to skyline himself as he and Clyde continued to play.

  Then they returned to the fire, ate a little cold breakfast with a hot cup, then covered the fire. Terry checked his rifle, loading one magazine with all seventeen rounds, as much as it would hold before he thought the spring would fail. He looked at his pistol. Only two shots. He put it back in its pouch at his chest as he continued to study the map.

  He picked a point about five hundred yards from where Sawyer’s men were situated. He and Char would enter the road in the relative safety of distance. An AK-47 was no good at that range, ne
ither was Terry’s M4, because of the short barrel, but it was better than the Russian weapon and ammunition. That was the only edge he had.

  Well, not the only edge. He and Char were both far more deadly than any of Sawyer Brown’s boys, or the big man himself, as long as they were close enough.

  “That guy is a fucking putz, don’t you think?” Terry asked Char as they stood on the road, waiting. It had been thirty minutes since the rest of the Force headed into the wasteland. They needed to kill another thirty minutes or more until the others were in position.

  “We need to distract the men, you say?” Char said, pushing Terry playfully as she removed her shirt and danced around him.

  “That’s not really what I had in mind,” he said, reminding himself that she was a Werewolf. She stripped completely bare and launched herself at Terry. He caught her as he started to fall, then staggered a couple steps and went into the nearby ditch.

  Char lifted her head and looked back down the road. “There he is,” she said.

  “Sawyer Brown?” She nodded. Terry peeked over her bare shoulder and saw the big man’s head sticking up. “It’s no surprise that he likes a peep show. Damn, you’re hot!”

  “Well, well, now, TH. And here I was thinking you hadn’t noticed,” Char cooed.

  “No!” Terry exclaimed. “Like, burn my chin on your shoulder hot. How are we going to get your clothes back on you?”

  “Isn’t that sexy man talk,” Char purred. “I brought them with me because I figured you wouldn’t be any fun.”

  Terry was mad that he hadn’t seen everything she was doing. She was already two steps ahead of him by showing him where Sawyer Brown was. “So how long do you think they’ll be watching us do it in here?” Terry asked. Char kneeled and bounced, giving the boys a bit of a show. They were all more than a quarter of a mile away and couldn’t see much, but she was holding their attention as Terry watched one head after another pop out from behind Sawyer.

  “Are you fast or slow, Terry Henry Walton? Can you keep me interested for thirty full minutes?” Terry had a hard time answering as perfect breasts bounced in front of his face while he tried to see past them.

  “Do you have any inhibitions?” Terry asked, wishing he had binoculars to better see the enemy ahead.

  “None,” Char replied simply. She nestled down slowly, then put her clothes on. The entire time, Clyde stayed in the road. He was lying down, head between his paws, looking bored as he watched his pack. The humans remained in the ditch until Clyde ran up the road to do his business.

  “Clyde!” Terry yelled.

  “Clyde!” came an answer from ahead. Sawyer Brown had had enough. The big man was standing in the ditch, hands cupped around his mouth as he called to his dog.

  “Showtime,” Terry said and stepped into the road. Char joined him and side by side, they walked slowly forward. Clyde was torn. He had eaten well when he was with the man ahead, could feel that he was loved, but he had all those things in his new pack, too. The big difference was that his new alpha was superior.

  In all ways.

  Clyde turned and trotted back to join Terry and Char, taking his place between them. They stopped.

  “What the hell are you feeding that dog?” Char asked, as they were dangerously close to Clyde’s business.

  Terry had a hard time not looking at the she-wolf, as if she were one to talk.

  Sawyer Brown raised his rifle and fired. The round whizzed by, closer than Terry was comfortable with. He dove left and Char went right. Terry stayed out of the ditch, and in the prone position, he sighted in on the big man’s chest, raised his aiming point to Sawyer’s face, and squeezed.

  Sawyer Brown dove back into the ditch, once he realized he was skylined.

  Terry relaxed the pressure on the trigger and rotated the lever to “safe,” having not fired the weapon. He blinked his eyes clear and scanned the road and fields ahead. No targets. Terry pounded the pavement with a fist. “Dammit!” he growled. He’d missed his chance.

  “Now what do we do?” Char asked, fresh out of ideas.

  “Talk?” Terry suggested. He stood and moved back to the middle of the road, but this time, he held his rifle at the ready, barrel pointed down the road, finger on the trigger and thumb on the selector lever.

  “Sawyer Brown! Let’s talk like men!” Terry bellowed. “No one has to die today,” he added.

  “Just you two,” the big man answered from the safety of his hole.

  “That could put a crimp in our conversation, Sawyer Brown. I think I have something you need to hear. I know something you don’t know!” Terry prompted.

  “That’s your plan?” Char whispered. “Quoting The Princess Bride?” Terry looked at her as she finally gave more insight into her age and showed her excellent taste in movies from the before time.

  “No,” he countered, although that was exactly what he was doing.

  “Send the woman to me!” Sawyer called back. Char started walking.

  “Hey! Where are you going?” Terry asked.

  “I’m going to go kill him now. That is what you want, right?” She looked confused.

  “Yes, but you’re not going alone,” Terry said, not taking his eyes off the top of Sawyer Brown’s head. It wasn’t enough to take a shot, but close.

  The shooting started from the field and scrub to Terry’s left, beyond the enemy lines. His men yelled and fired, but stayed hidden. Terry couldn’t see anything that was going on. Sawyer raised his head and turned, looking at the skirmish behind him. Terry dropped to one knee and fired.

  Sawyer went down. Terry started running toward the battle with Char and Clyde running close behind. The incoming fire from his right drove him off the road and into the ditch on the left side of the road. Char disappeared into the weeds to the right. Terry shot one man who was more exuberant than the others, thinking that he’d hit his target because Terry and Char both disappeared as if they’d been shot.

  That man died without ever knowing what hit him. The other men ducked and fired unaimed shots as they kept their heads down. Terry was able to pick off one more before they stopped firing and stayed hidden.

  A couple voices to Terry’s left were yelling that they surrendered. The firing stopped completely. Terry continued down the ditch, half-crouched, when Sawyer Brown popped up and fired, hitting Terry in the chest and knocking him over backwards.

  Two shots were fired from the field and Sawyer’s head exploded in a shower of gore. Clyde brayed as he dove into the ditch after the injured member of his pack, but stopped when Terry scratched him behind the ears.

  He sat up and looked. “Well, God damn, would you look at that? That old .45 saved my life.” The round from Sawyer’s AK had hit the frame, destroying Terry’s treasured Colt and giving him a healthy bruise on his chest.

  But he lived to fight another day, or at least a few more minutes. His reverie was brief as weapons fire erupted from the right side of the road.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Char surprised the man that anchored the line on the right side of the road. She killed him with a punch that caved in his skull. She grabbed his rifle as the next man down turned to face her. She shot him and started running, shooting the next two in rapid succession before return fire started.

  She was hit twice, once in the leg and once in the chest. She went down and rolled behind cover. Char started to heal immediately, but needed more food. She crawled to the men she’d already killed and was surprised that they had nothing on them. Char thought about it for a second and decided against it. She’d recover without eating any of the humans. She denied Marcus before when he insisted and even now, with necessity calling, she couldn’t do it. She would never do it. It would simply take more time to heal and that was that.

  Dammit, TH, you’ve made me the damsel in distress and I hate that shit, she thought as she kept the rifle trained toward the mounds that hid her enemies as they pointed their rifles in her direction.

  She waited for someon
e to come.

  * * *

  Terry peeked from the cover of the ditch and saw his four men rounding up the survivors in the field to his left. To his right, no one was visible.

  “It’s over! Sawyer Brown is dead. Come out with your hands up and you won’t be harmed,” Terry yelled, unwilling to expose himself.

  “Come on out, boys! It’s over,” Jagoff yelled as he walked from the field, hands on top of his head. Jim carried an armload of rifles, while Ivan struggled with bags of magazines filled with ammunition. Devlin and Mark watched four of Sawyer’s men as they walked slowly across the field. “Come on! Hands up and get out here!”

  Seven men slowly rose with their hands held out before them.

  “Char! Come on out,” Terry called as he carefully climbed from the ditch. Clyde was checking out his former master. He peed near the man’s head and then ran around to the other members of Sawyer’s small army.

  Terry watched the dog, saw who he liked and noted that.

  Terry made his way through the ditch and accosted the first person he came across. “Where is she?” he demanded. The man pointed toward the east. Terry turned to cover the people who surrendered as he moved away from them. When they walked onto the road and Devlin took charge of the newcomers, Terry ran in the direction the man pointed.

  He followed the dead bodies until he found Char, sitting behind a mound with a rifle across her lap. He saw the two holes in her clothing and the blood. Her eyes were closed. He kneeled next to her, putting his fingers on her neck and feeling for the pulse. Char’s skin was hot and her pulse was strong. “Thank God,” he whispered.

  “Ah, you’d miss me,” Char said with her eyes still closed. “I’m fine, just a little tired is all.” She opened her eyes to see Terry looking at the two bullet holes in her clothes.

  “Near misses,” she said. He smirked and helped her to her feet. She stretched and flexed, took a deep breath and declared herself one hundred percent. Terry watched her walk stiffly toward the road.