“How far do you think this trip will be?” he asked.
“Two thousand, maybe twenty-five hundred miles one way,” Terry replied.
Timmons snickered. “Expect two thousand to twenty-five hundred miles of that, multiple times daily. When you travel, he’s like the Rainman.”
“Hey, Rainman! What makes you tick?” Terry called.
Timmons stayed to the side of the road. He started to drop back, but the horses were having none of him being too near. “He’s talking to you, Ted.”
“Me? The molecules of my body support my essence. Because of that, I exist. I exist to serve the alpha. It is my place,” Ted stated.
“Thank you, Ted. You are a welcome member of the team. Any time you need to ask if we’re there yet, I am ordering you, as your alpha, to ask Timmons, but in a whisper so only he can hear. Do you understand?” Char asked.
“Yes, thank you, my alpha. Thank you, Char, for bringing me along. Will we be restarting a reactor on this journey?”
Terry thought about that. “The Zion Nuclear Power Station is right in the area. You will look at it, Ted, and you will tell us if we can restart it. On the way, we’ll be looking for Mini Coopers. Doctor Mark Cooper developed the mini-modular fusion reactors to be truck or train portable. If we can find any of these, I think we’ll be able to jump ahead fifty years in bringing technology back. Keep your eyes out for any Cooper Mini Mods, people!” Terry called.
No one had any idea what they looked like, no one except Terry. He’d read an article on them and it had pictures. He remembered it all. He also remembered an article on tactical vehicles, but without finding a vault of hardware with preserved weapons and military vehicles, it would be a long time before he’d have his tactical vehicle.
He looked longingly into the distance. If only he had a HMMWV to ride in. With a driver. And a beer.
He already missed beer and they hadn’t even passed the power plant yet.
“Ted, you ever hear of the Zion Nuclear Power Station?” Ted nodded. “It was decommissioned, but I don’t think they started the dismantlement process before the WWDE. If I remember the article, the nuclear fuel is stored in the spent fuel pool on site. Do you think we could recover that to refuel the reactors?” Terry asked.
Ted looked into the distance like Terry was doing. “Yes and no.”
Terry didn’t press him. A decommissioned reactor was probably off during the WWDE and its electronics may have survived, which was what Terry was hoping. Use the salvaged control systems to replace what got fried on a Mini Cooper and they’d have power for the city for the rest of their lives.
That was what Terry was really counting on. The reason he knew the Mini Coopers were out there was because he’d provided security for a couple of them and he knew that at least one had been destined for Chicago, which was a huge place. He’d have to dig through everything he remembered to try and figure out where they may have taken it.
They’d have to find someone local who knew the geography from before. They needed to find someone old who had survived.
That was a tall order. He and Ted continued to look into the distance as the horses walked past the power plant and continued north. They plodded along, which made it easy for Timmons to keep pace. At the point where they had turned northeast to head toward the South Platte River, they turned northwest instead, until they reached old Highway 36.
From there onward, they’d stay with the foothills that led to the Rocky Mountains and follow it north until they were out of the Wastelands. Terry had hoped he could follow the Missouri River once they reached it in Montana, maybe never needing to go as far north as Canada.
He hoped that would be the case.
“Can I change already?” Timmons asked. Char had been ignoring him for the past couple hours, so Terry ignored him, too. He’d grown sullen, trudging along only fast enough to keep up with the last horse.
“Fine,” Char finally said. Timmons stripped. Buck naked and smiling, he handed his clothes to Lacy, who took them graciously and then threw them on the ground. The horse pranced, trying to get away from the creature that caused it so much anxiety. James snorted, although he had a hard time not being envious of the Werewolf’s magnificently chiseled body.
Only until Timmons turned into a shaggy gray wolf, half the size of a horse. He was a little bit bigger than Char in her Were form, broader across the shoulders and bulkier. He looked at the group through yellow eyes, bared his fangs, then ran ahead, loping easily past the lead horses and far into the distance.
“He likes to run,” Ted offered. “He really likes to hunt. There are deer ahead. I think the venison will be tasty for dinner.” Ted leaned to the side and whispered something into the thin air.
Char mouthed, “Are we there yet?”
Ted was a genius, according to Char, and totally whacked, but he was kind and wouldn’t hurt anyone unless directed to by the alpha. He was fiercely loyal, not caring who the alpha was as long as they let him know. Ted was simple and complex.
“What’s your favorite food, Ted?” Terry asked.
“Oh, that’s easy. I have a certain fondness for Oysters Rockefeller,” Ted answered.
“Oysters Rockefeller!” Terry exclaimed. He’d been expecting some flavor of raw meat, like elk or venison. “When’s the last time you had that?”
“Twenty-six years, three months, and seven days ago,” Ted replied. Terry and Char weren’t sure if he was kidding or not, but they suspected not.
“That’s a long time to go without your favorite dish, Ted,” Terry sympathized.
“That makes it so much better. If you ate your favorite every day, would it still be your favorite?” Ted asked. Terry contemplated that, coming to the conclusion that no, it wouldn’t.
Just like you couldn’t have Christmas every day, either. He looked at Char. Maybe he could have Christmas every day. Char caught him leering.
“Ass,” Char whispered to Terry. “You get your favorite dish every day, and you better still like it. Let’s just say you better not grow tired of it.” She snapped her teeth at him, smiling.
“I don’t see it getting old,” Terry told her. They looked at each other like newlyweds should.
Char’s eyes unfocused as she reached out with her senses. “We should hurry so Timmons doesn’t eat the whole deer himself. Not far, but the rest of the herd has run off. That’s the only one we’re going to get.”
“Ha!” Terry yelled as he slapped his horse’s rump, sending the beast galloping ahead. The others hurried to catch up. Char raced past him to lead the way.
“Hold!” Terry heard Char yell as she approached the Werewolf tearing into the deer. He stopped his animalistic rending of flesh and leaned back, raised his head, and howled. The horses bucked. Terry’s bolted. James and Lacy fought with theirs. Gerry soothed his while Char dominated her animal, holding the reins tightly.
He stopped and changed into human form, but that didn’t calm the horses at all. The smell of blood and Timmons together was too much.
Terry jumped from the horse while it was running and with his enhanced speed, he got in front of it and dragged on the reins until it stopped. He stroked its long nose until it stopped snorting. He yelled at the others to join him and set up camp at his location. They’d clean the deer where it was before bringing it closer to the horses.
Timmons snickered as he watched the animals fleeing from him in fear.
Terry wondered if Timmons was spooking the animals on purpose. He’d talk with Char later, because they couldn’t make time if the horses were always panicked.
Char jumped from her horse, tied it off, and stormed straight for Timmons. Terry realized that she suspected he was doing it on purpose as well, and she was having none of that.
The smile disappeared from Timmons’s face and he started backing up. He stumbled and fell.
“Get up!” she screamed.
He stood and bounced on the balls of his feet. Timmons raised his hands and prepared to
fight. He snarled as adrenaline surged through his body. He’d just killed the deer and feasted.
He wouldn’t be more ready than at that point in time.
Char didn’t hesitate. She ran the last two steps and jumped, twisting to put enough power into her first punch to drive a hole through his skull, but Timmons dodged, letting her momentum carry her past. He attempted a side kick, but she brushed that away easily, landing on her feet and turning.
She attacked again by wading toward him, crouched low. Timmons tried to dance out of her reach, but she reacted faster and pounded his arms as he tried to ward off her blows.
He kicked, swung, and kicked again. She blocked the first two before letting the third one through. Timmons felt like he kicked a piece of granite. Char used the opening to drive her fist into his throat. He fell back, gasping for air. She didn’t let him get out of reach as he staggered.
She grabbed one arm and twisted, then stepped past and pulled him off his feet. She lifted Timmons into the air and threw him. He crashed to the ground twenty feet away.
She bolted after him as he tried to scramble upright to better defend himself.
“I give. I GIVE!” the man screamed.
“So do I,” Char snarled as she kicked him back to the ground, straddling him as she pummeled his face.
“Whip!” she shouted, holding out her hand to Terry. He didn’t question her request. He simply handed the bullwhip to her, taking care that the silver chained tip didn’t touch her.
She stepped back, testing the bullwhip by snapping it over Timmons’s head.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Sue stood outside the mayor’s house with Clyde at her side. She was lean and blonde. She used to have better curves, but running a couple thousand miles took that away. She wondered if she’d be able to gain the weight back, in the right places, of course.
“What do you think, boy? Is there any hope?” she asked the dog. He wagged his tail and looked up at her adoringly. She took a knee and nuzzled his face. “Aren’t you the best?”
Billy watched from the upstairs window. Was he the only one who didn’t like that dog? Clyde had stuck his face into more than one of Billy’s meals. His goal as mayor was not to have a well fed dog, but well fed people.
Felicity sidled up next to him and looked out the window. She giggled and shook her head.
“Your new assistant has arrived,” she drawled. She picked up the baby and headed out the door and down the stairs. Billy trailed after her.
They found Sue just as they’d seen her, on a knee giving Clyde as much loving as he could handle.
“I think Colonel Terry Henry Walton has lost his dog’s heart,” Felicity declared.
“Oh my, will he be angry about that?” Sue asked, concerned.
“He loves that dog,” Billy said with a sneer. “Come on in and let me show you what I have.”
Clyde tried to follow, but Billy played goalie and blocked him from coming inside. Sue wondered what that was about.
“There’s food on the counter in the kitchen. He knows that. If I let that mongrel in here, we won’t be able to stop him,” Billy explained.
“I will control him,” Sue said simply. Billy closed his eyes, knowing that he’d let her. He was such a pushover when it came to beautiful women. When he opened his eyes, Felicity and Sue were both looking at him.
He didn’t say a word, only stood back and waved them in. Clyde’s claws dug into the concrete as he launched himself forward, through the door and straight down the hallway headed for the kitchen.
“CLYDE!” Sue yelled. Billy thought the whole house shook. The dog tried to stop, sliding on the worn wood floor and crashing into the wall. “Get back here!”
Clyde was torn. He looked toward the kitchen, then back at Sue, then back toward the kitchen.
“HERE, NOW!” she yelled. Clyde hung his head and loped back to the front door. She petted his head and cooed to him, then pulled a piece of jerky from her pocket to give him.
“Would you look at that? The dog is trainable. You win, Sue. Bring him on in,” Billy said. Felicity nodded appreciatively and walked toward the kitchen.
“Maybe a bun, my honey bun?” Billy called after her. She didn’t bother looking back. Billy leaned toward Sue and whispered conspiratorially, “She’ll bring us something.”
“No, I won’t!” they heard Felicity yell from the kitchen.
***
Merrit and Shonna were going from greenhouse to greenhouse, looking at the soil and any mechanical equipment, seeing what needed repaired first. To Merrit, it was obvious that they should add nitrates to the soil, but they’d have to rotate out the current sickly-looking crop.
The farmers said the crops were producing only half what they did compared to the year before. But with the excess manpower, the fields were double the size. The people were working harder to maintain the status quo.
Something had to give.
“Priority to the water pumps and irrigation systems,” Merrit said when they’d reached the fifth greenhouse, the place that Pepe and Maria ran.
“Yes, please. Water is the only thing that will help us through this awful heat,” Pepe added. Merrit looked at him and nodded tersely. Shonna slapped the other Werewolf in the arm.
“It is horrible, isn’t it?” Shonna sympathized, stepping between Pepe and Maria, wrapping her arm around each and guiding them to the table where the exhaust fan provided a small respite.
They sat while Shonna took a knee. “We’ll work with that pump and get it up to speed. Then we’ll help pull every bit of water from the ground that we can get. Soon it will be cool enough, but until then, we fight back!”
The farmers were encouraged by the newcomers’ enthusiasm. “And if we can get enough water, maybe get the misters working in here. Wouldn’t a cooling mist a few times a day be good for the plants and anyone who happens to be around? It would certainly take the edge off,” Merrit offered, getting into the spirit of the conversation.
“I need to go get some tools, then we’ll be back. Is the electricity working here?” he asked.
“Yes, it is, finally,” Maria said, pointing to the exhaust fan.
“Oh, right!” Merrit exclaimed. Shonna made a mental list of everything they needed. The welder would come in handy, something that James never knew existed when he performed his manual welding of a water pump. The Werewolves weren’t into making things harder than they needed to be, but they would do what was necessary, because Char ordered it.
Shonna, Xandrie, and Sue would make sure the other two fell in line. They were overjoyed at having a She-Wolf as the alpha.
They wouldn’t let the men undermine her position, no matter what. If they knew what was good for them, they’d make Char proud. If they faltered… Well, Timmons wouldn’t be the only one getting his ass kicked upside-down and backwards.
***
Timmons screamed as the bullwhip lashed across his stomach. He rolled over and curled into a ball. Char laid open his back with two more vicious cracks of the whip. Timmons whimpered like an abused puppy.
Char approached him, careful not to let him lash out and catch her unaware. With a quick move, she wrapped the silvered part of the bullwhip around Timmons left hand and pulled it tight. She grunted when it touched her, but not enough to even leave a mark.
Timmons howled and cried for her to stop, but with a scream of vengeance, she yanked on the bullwhip and ripped Timmons hand off.
He bolted upright, crying out in pain and anguish. Char tossed the bullwhip to Terry. She casually picked up the severed hand, walked to the small fire that had been started, and dropped the hand in. It sizzled and sputtered before turning black.
“Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. Blood and revenge are hammering in my head, so sayeth Titus Andronicus,” she said, shaking her fist at him. “Next time, you die.”
James and Lacy watched, shock on their faces as the wound on Timmons’s arm closed, creating a stump. Gerry strolled up
after getting the horses settled. “What’d I miss?” he asked nonchalantly.
“The fight of the century, Gerry. You missed the fight of the century. The major ripped his fucking arm off!” James stated, still in awe at the spectacle.
“Private Geronimo, would you please bring the spare horse here. Test how it reacts to that thing,” Char said, pointing to Timmons’s huddled mass.
“Yes, ma’am!” Gerry shouted and ran off, returning quickly, leading a young stallion.
The horse walked past without a nicker, but he kept his eyes on the carcass of the deer, not far away.
“You’ll ride tomorrow,” Terry told Timmons. “Come sit by the fire, get something to drink. You two, butcher that deer and let’s get dinner cooking.” James and Lacy saluted, pulled their knives, and got to work.
Ted watched it all, seemingly indifferent. He joined James and Lacy, but he didn’t have a knife. Terry handed his extra blade, the non-silvered one, to Char. He helped Timmons to his feet and to the fire. Gerry brought a saddle and put it on the ground. Timmons leaned against that as he continued to cradle his arm, wearing a look of tortured pain, his features twisted as he fought his way through the agony.
Terry let him drink one full flask, then gave him a second.
Char handed the knife to Ted. “I told him not to cross the alpha. Nothing could come from it. I told him. Too belligerent for his own good. Arrogance will get him killed one day,” Ted said, testing the blade.
Finding it sharp and up to the task, he gave the deer his full attention.
Char walked away from the camp. She didn’t enjoy confrontation, but she could never let the pack know that. And losing her temper was something she found deplorable. She looked at the stars in the sky, the magnificence of the universe, and wondered, What have I become?
Terry asked Ted to take some of the raw venison to the injured man, including the heart, something that the Werewolves seemed to relish, then he followed Char into the darkness.
She sensed him coming and leaned into his embrace as he hugged her from behind.
Nomad Omnibus 01_A Kurtherian Gambit Series Page 48
