Nomad's Journal_A Kurtherian Gambit Series

by Craig Martelle

  WWDE + 31

  In China, Gene almost died after a fight with a Weretiger.

  Since then, Terry had spent a great deal of time turning the wrestler into a fighter, helping him understand how best to use his strengths while limiting his weaknesses.

  “As big as that melon is, you’d think there’d be goddamned brain in there!” Terry yelled, spit flying from his face. Gene growled and snarled, but didn’t approach. In Werebear form, he circled his opponent.

  Terry swung a small club with metal spikes to replicate the claws of a Weretiger. Terry drove the spikes into Gene’s shoulder and raked the flesh unmercifully. Gene turned and swept a massive paw through the space where Terry Henry had been.

  Terry danced out of the Werebear’s reach. Gene attacked again, pulling up short and beginning a dance of his own. Standing on his two back feet, he weaved and bounced.

  Gene worked his way back and forth until Terry was cornered. Then the Werebear attacked. Terry counted on his strength to jump over Gene and free himself, but the Werebear was too quick.

  A claw swung and embedded itself in Terry’s leg, stopping him mid-leap. Gene dragged Terry to his chest, turning the human away from him to expose his neck.

  “STOP!” Char bellowed. Gene opened his jaws wide. Char leapt into the air and with the full force of her Werewolf strength, she punched Gene in the side of his furry Werebear head. He instantly dropped Terry and staggered to the side, changing into human form as he fell over.

  Terry stumbled, wincing at the damage to his leg. Char gave him a drink of water and together they watched Gene struggle to his feet.

  “What happen? I thought I won!” he exclaimed.

  “You did win, my large friend. You are getting better with each new day.” Terry didn’t give false compliments. He meant what he said.

  “Next up, a bout with a real Weretiger.” Terry turned to Aaron, who looked exasperated. “Yes, you.”

  “Come on, Terry, he’s getting it!” Aaron whined.

  “Change. NOW!” Terry demanded. Aaron didn’t bother taking his clothes off. He changed into Weretiger form and easily slipped out of his clothes.

  The great cat screamed, showing its fangs. The Weretiger focused like a laser on the Werebear, then slowly laid down and started licking its paw.

  Terry slapped his forehead. They’d fought together, and Aaron and Gene were friends. Terry never knew what Aaron would do when he changed into Were form. In this case, the cat didn’t seem inclined to fight.

  Terry stormed into the sandpit and grabbed Gene by his ears. The big man was naked and there was nothing else that Terry was willing to put his hands on. Gene’s face turned red, and Terry let go.

  “Show him that a Weretiger cannot better you. Become the Werebear, my large friend,” Terry said softly, encouragingly.

  Gene changed into the monstrous Werebear. He stood on his back legs and roared, then dropped to the ground, making the sand fly and the earth shake. Aaron jumped to his feet, snarling afresh. Gene charged.

  Aaron dashed out of the way, turning and attacking the Werebear’s flank, but Gene was ready. He dug in with his front paws and lashed out with a back leg, kicking aside the Weretiger’s attack. Bear claws and tiger claws raked each other’s legs, before they separated. Aaron circled, limping slightly from his wound.

  Gene turned and shambled, but deliberately back and forth, trying to force Aaron into a corner. Char ran to the side once she found that she was between the tiger and the corner that Gene was trying to force him into.

  Aaron bunched his legs beneath him, preparing for a mighty leap. Gene surged forward then jumped sideways into the path of the leaping Weretiger. Gene swung a giant paw, connecting with Aaron and sending him flying into a wall. Gene tore the ground up as he headed for the rebounding Weretiger.

  Aaron heard him coming and leapt mightily straight up the wall. He kicked against the wall and sailed well over Gene’s head. The Weretiger hit the ground and took off running.

  Gene stood as he turned, ready for the Weretiger’s attack, but the only thing he saw was Aaron’s tail as he disappeared into the nearest stand of trees.

  “I’d say that tells you how well you were doing, Gene,” Terry declared, as Char nodded.

  Gene changed back into human form. He looked around and stated the obvious. “Hungry like bear.”

  SIX

  The Battle of Paris

  WWDE+33

  The pods landed in what used to be the Champ de Mars, the groomed gardens standing before the Eiffel Tower, which didn’t survive the nuclear exchange between all the major powers. The radioactivity was short-lived because of the air bursts. Many structures had been flattened from the concussive force, but many more survived.

  And Paris was making a comeback. They had seemingly endless fields and livestock. France had the opportunity to lead the way in bringing Europe back. They even had limited power.

  All of that drew the predators, and not the furry kind. Forsaken and their minions descended on Paris, coming from whatever holes they’d been hiding in since the fall.

  Two pods landed and the one platoon from the FDG formed a perimeter. Most of Char’s pack was there. Timmons and Shonna remained behind to see to a failed electrical distribution center. Ted remained behind because he always did, but Aaron had come for the sole reason that he’d never been to Paris.

  Even though they told him what to expect, he was disappointed when he saw the devastation, when he found that there were no artists on the sidewalks along the Seine.

  “What the hell did you eat?” Terry yelled at Gene as they fought to get off the pod.

  “What?” Gene tried to act innocent.

  Char was covering her face with her shirt, shaking her head as she looked daggers at the Werebear.

  Akio strolled off last, seemingly immune to the noxious fumes, although they swore that his straight black hair had started to curl.

  “You ride on the outside on the way back!” Terry declared, studying the surroundings. The light banter ceased immediately when the town around them turned silent.

  “How many?” Terry asked. Char reached into the etheric and saw scattered people in hiding. No one was a threat.

  “Not many. Isn’t there supposed to be a mob or something?” Char asked.

  Akio pursed his lips and looked around before pointing. “That way,” he advised.

  Terry didn’t hesitate. He waved for Mark’s attention and made the axe-chopping-wood motion in the direction that Akio had pointed.

  Mark signaled and the platoon reoriented itself into an inverted V. Timmons moved close to the front. Gene removed his clothes, throwing the bundle back into the pod before changing into his Were form. He lumbered to the front, walking alongside Timmons.

  Adams stayed near the right flank of the formation, carrying an M14 that he used as a sniper rifle. On the left flank, Private Bennie also carried an M14. They’d discovered the rifles during a raid into old Seattle a few years earlier.

  The previous owners no longer had a use for them once Terry and the FDG stopped the two men from terrorizing a growing population. To the victor go the spoils.

  Char carried her Glock pistols as always, proud that she hadn’t fired them in five years. Terry carried his M4 with the grenade launcher. He preferred the fifty cal, but no one would let him bring that massive beast along.

  He was the colonel, but he deferred to the major when his personal bias was on display, although Char never liked the rank. She considered herself a civilian, even though Terry said she was in a lifelong commitment with the FDG. She argued mightily since her life was unreasonably long. She didn’t know if she wanted to be in the military in two hundred years, if she made it that far.

  She asked him what kind of retirement that would earn her.

  “We couldn’t afford to pay it, so I guess we both have to serve until they plant us in the ground!” Terry laughed, before returning to the matters at hand. Char held up her arm, calling for a halt.
Joseph was standing next to her.

  She sensed people in positions that looked like an ambush. He read their thoughts and knew exactly what they planned to do.

  “Get down!” Joseph yelled and started to run toward the right flank. The FDG hit the ground, moments before small arms fire washed over their position. Char and Terry went to the left. Aaron changed instantly into a Weretiger.

  The Force returned fire. Joseph directed Adams, picking out the most aggressive targets. The so-called leaders remained behind cover.

  Adams called for grenades to flush them out. Once the high explosives rained down on the enemy, it was over quickly.

  The Force reformed and pressed forward quickly. Timmons and Gene taking point to prevent further miscues. There hadn’t been a single injury among the warriors. Akio was nowhere to be seen. They hadn’t realized that he’d gone, but he went ahead to remove the Forsaken from power.

  In Char’s mind, she replayed how Joseph had saved them. He had been quicker than her and that made all the difference. While Akio had trusted the Force to look after themselves, Joseph stepped up to fill the gap.

  SEVEN

  Timmons and Sue in Toronto

  “I thought about how I’d feel if something happened to you, if someone took you, and no one saw anything. I’d want to kill someone, but the enemy wouldn’t be there. I see the frustration on Char’s face. I’d lose my mind,” Timmons whispered.

  “We went through that years ago, and you moved mountains for me,” Sue purred.

  “It wasn’t quite all that.” He let the words drift away as his mind took him back ten years…

  WWDE + 35 years

  The pods had landed inside Toronto and the pack separated. They were on a search and destroy mission. Sue had been paired with Adams for the operation and Timmons had been put with Gene.

  The Were teams ran into the night, following roads that Terry had pointed out on the approach.

  Strongholds dotted the city. The mission was to break down the barriers between the warring factions, bring them together, and get them working toward being civilized.

  “You’d think Canadians would be nicer to each other,” Terry joked.

  “Maybe these are refugees from south of the border,” Timmons replied.

  “Touché,” Terry conceded. “Cut the head off the snake, if they make you, but it would be best to not kill anyone if we don’t have to. There aren’t that many.”

  The teams had nodded and gone their separate ways, figuring they would bring bound captives to a central area to turn loose and whip into shape. People who were happy to be alive were easier to deal with. They hadn’t seen any firearms during the reconnaissance. Timmons expected things to go easily.

  Only one platoon from the FDG had accompanied them. The Force’s mission was to secure and hold the ground once the elite Were teams handled the leadership from each stronghold.

  Timmons knew something was wrong when a machine gun barked an angry staccato. He raised his head and listened. It had come from the direction Sue and Adams had gone.

  “We do our part, then go help,” Gene said matter-of-factly in his heavy Russian accent. They continued to move quickly toward their objective. Timmons remained in the shadows while Gene lumbered straight down the center of the street. As they got close, he removed his clothes, leaving them where he dropped them. He changed into Werebear form and resisted the urge to roar.

  They started to run. The target building was unpresuming, but that was where the humans were. Both Timmons and Gene could see them. No firearms. They ran straight toward the front door.

  The Werebear broke through it without slowing down. He went left into the main sitting room, and Timmons went right, found the stairs, and headed up.

  Timmons could hear Gene slapping the shit out of the people he’d cornered. It took fifteen years, but finally, he didn’t just kill everyone he ran across. He limited himself to hurting them badly.

  He knew his own strength, but let fly with his massive, flesh-rending claws anyway.

  Timmons raced up the stairs, vaulting the last bunch to the top landing. He turned left, then decided to go right. There was the same number of people in each direction, but Timmons was playing a hunch.

  He reached for the knob, but someone inside opened it, pulling it away from the Werewolf. Timmons’s reactions were quicker, and he jammed his shoulder against the door, slamming it against the soul on the other side.

  Timmons jumped over the man as he fell. Two other people in the room smoothly pulled their pistols, but Timmons accelerated to Werewolf speed. He hit the closer of the two with a gut-wrenching punch to the head, then ducked under the second’s hastily fired shot. Timmons caught the man’s wrist, broke it, and took the pistol away.

  He whipped it across the man’s face, knocking him down and out.

  The man they came for sat at a big desk. There was a woman who had been sitting on it when Timmons entered. She was cowering behind the man and screaming.

  “Shut up,” Timmons said, pointing the pistol in the woman’s direction. She continued to scream until the seated man backhanded her in the chest.

  “You need to come with me because we’ve had enough of your petty squabbles. We’re going to help you idiots to resolve your differences,” Timmons told him using the wording that Char had given him.

  “I don’t think so. You haven’t met all my boys yet,” the man said in an accent that Timmons couldn’t place.

  They heard a commotion in the hallway, followed by the thunder of a pistol firing, and then a wild animal’s roar that shook the walls.

  More commotion and then silence. Timmons realized that he didn’t like having his back to the door, so he moved to the side where he could keep an eye on both. The woman watched him intently, keeping the seated man between her and Timmons.

  A heavy tread suggested only one being was coming down the hall. They weren’t human footsteps. A confused look crossed the man’s face. His eyes shot wide as the Werebear appeared in the doorway. The woman started screaming again.

  “Dammit, Gene! We just got her calmed down,” Timmons complained.

  The Werebear sniffed at the men on the floor. Both were unconscious. Gene raised a leg like a dog and peed on them. Even Timmons was disgusted.

  At least the woman stopped her infernal screaming, and the man decided that being somewhere else sounded like a good idea. He stood and looked for an escape.

  Gene strolled from the room, growled at something in the hallway, and continued down the steps.

  The man resumed his tough-guy pose once the Werebear had gone.

  “What the hell do you think you are, a New York City mobster?” Timmons scowled at the pair. “Get your asses in gear and get the fuck out of here!”

  Timmons was in no mood to watch the man drag his feet in an attempt to establish his dominance. “Drop it!” Timmons yelled when the man reached for something.

  “A pistol will only give you a false sense of hope. Do you know how the talks will go without you? Try not in your favor, dickweed. And you, shut your fucking pie hole before I throw your dumb ass out that window!” Timmons’s patience was gone. He forced his way behind the desk, body-slammed the woman into the intransigent mobster, and then kicked the man in the ass to get him to move toward the door.

  Timmons took the magazine from the pistol and fired the last round into the ceiling. The woman jumped. “Shut it!” Timmons yelled preemptively. He threw the pistol on the unconscious body. Then remembered there were two, so he took the magazine from the second pistol.

  The two captives were standing in the hallway where blood splattered the walls and pooled on the floor. Timmons could tell that two of the men were still alive. Maybe one would survive. Probably none if no one came to their rescue.

  “Let’s go, you asswipes. You had to make this hard, not on us, but it’s on you, so get going. The only way not to end up like them is to come with us. And you, you fucking screamer. You’re not coming with us. I�
�m not going to put up with any of your shit, so you stay here!” Timmons punctuated his command by throwing her against the wall.

  She bounced off and tumbled to the floor, barely missing a pool of blood.

  The man tried to grab Timmons, but the Werewolf was ready. He blocked the grab and punched the man in the mouth just hard enough to stagger him. Timmons grabbed a handful of the back of his shirt and propelled him toward the steps.

  The man missed the top step and fell, grabbing the railing and twisting as he landed heavily.

  “Get up, you piece of shit,” Timmons growled. The man finally gave in with a visible hunch of his shoulders. He got up, brushed himself off, and descended the staircase with his head down.

  Timmons pushed him out the door, and they headed up the street toward the central area where the enclave leaders were being staged. Timmons pushed the man hard, but he wasn’t used to a workout. He was soon panting and gasping for air. Timmons had to slow down.

  Gene grew bored and explored homes and buildings along the way. He changed back into human form when they came across his clothes. Timmons kept the man moving forward so he wouldn’t see the transformation. He didn’t rate to learn about the Weres and the unknown world.

  One squad from the Force had set up a small containment area. Two others were already detained. They didn’t look anything like the mobster wannabe that Timmons herded into it. He clearly knew the others because he spat in their direction once he was shoved inside.

  The other two didn’t like him either, since their response was to attack him. Timmons walked away. Sue and Adams had not returned.

  He hadn’t heard the machine gun in quite some time, but that didn’t mean anything. Timmons needed to get out there and find her, make sure she was safe.

  “Come on, Gene. We did what we had to do,” Timmons told the Werebear with a nod. “Let’s go find the others.”

  “No problem,” Gene agreed, watching the scrum within the containment area while he walked away. The warriors sent two men in to break up the fight, while three others kept their weapons raised, ready to end lives if it was a scam.