“Who are we to hold up commerce?” Terry suggested. Together they went through the variety of dishes—chicken, corn, sweet potato, bananas, and even a fish plate. The banana fritters were Char’s favorite while the jerk chicken appealed best to Terry’s taste.
Char stood up, sauntered to the ad hoc entrance before the food stand, cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hear ye, hear ye!” she shouted. “Banana fritters, corn meal, and jerk chicken. Something for everyone. I could have eaten anywhere, but I chose here because you don’t get this by eating bad food!”
She pointed to her body, turning for passersby to see. A few men closed the distance, posturing for Char’s benefit. “Get yourself something to eat, boys.”
They trickled in at first, but the crowd’s attitude had changed and the trickle became a flood. Terry leaned around the counter. “More chicken, sweet potato pudding, and banana fritters please,” he told the man, who was instantly flustered, torn between living up to his end of the deal and serving the new customers.
“Help yourself, man!” he whispered, waving Terry behind the counter.
Terry Henry Walton was never too proud when it came to food. Once behind the counter, he found himself fixing plates and working. Thirty minutes later, things had calmed immensely. Terry had learned how to jerk chicken and touch up banana fritters in addition to how they should look while frying.
Char had suitors lined up around her table. Terry dropped his apron and headed for the table. She stood and yelled, “Enough!”
One man took one of her packages and started to slink away. Terry reared back and started to swing, but stopped himself before he exploded the young man’s head. “Put it back,” he snarled. The man tried to run, but Terry kicked his leg out from under him.
The man sprawled face first. Terry stepped on the young man’s hand as he recovered the package. TH twisted his boot, making the young man yelp in pain. “Next time you try to steal from me, I will kill you,” Terry told the man, looking up to see the other men forming an arc around him.
One of them, bolder than the others, stepped forward. “Nice banger, man. Mayhap we get a look?” Terry realized that as he leaned down, the men could see the pistol under his shirt. He stood and set the package to the side.
“I don’t fucking think so,” Terry replied, smiling as the adrenaline surged into his body. Char was standing behind the group, but turned toward the counter. In the icy stillness of the standoff, her voice came through loud and clear.
“More banana fritters, please. These are so good!” The man behind the counter watched in horror, afraid that the young men were going to destroy his stand.
The bold young man waved two others forward. “I think we take it from you, then, man. We try to be nice, but no. Stranger know best.”
They reached for him simultaneously. Everything slowed down for Terry Henry Walton. He saw all the faces, those he knew were going to act, those waiting to see, the clenched hands, the sweat, the men reaching for him. In a flash, he knew what he needed to do.
He punched the bold man in the face with a right jab, turning the swing into a roundhouse and catching the man to his left on the side of the temple. Terry rotated with a left back-kick to the mid-section of the man on his right. He reached over the bold man, who was falling over with his eyes rolled back in his head.
Terry caught two heads and banged them together. The sound of ripe melons getting thumped was loud in the silence of Terry’s fight.
One last man of the bunch looked ready to fight. Terry didn’t hesitate. A flying drop-kick pounded the man into the ground. Six men were down at the speed of a single thought. Three men remained. The shock on their faces told Terry that the fight was over.
“Help these idiots out of here. They’re blocking the paying customers.” Terry picked up the package that had started it all and returned to the table.
“You know they’ll be back with friends carrying machetes,” Char said through a mouth full of banana fritter.
Terry turned toward the counter. “Five orders of jerked chicken and sweet potato pudding, to go please.”
“And that’s how we get kicked out of all the best cities on the planet,” Char said, smiling at her husband as she collected her packages to help carry her treasures back to the boat.
The bold man finally came to and pushed the young man helping him away. He produced a knife and lunged at Terry as the cook was handing him the package of food to go. Terry caught the bold man’s wrist, crushed the bones in his grip, and deftly caught Kim’s knife as it dropped from the man’s numb fingers. Terry kicked the man in the groin.
He went down and started to moan, holding his privates in one hand while keep the other hand in the air. Terry thanked the clerk for the food, leaned down, and used the knife to cut the man’s belt so he could remove the sheath.
He stuffed the knife and sheath inside his shirt and headed for the exit.
“You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a stupid fucker,” Char said.
“Twain was never so righteously misquoted,” Terry replied.
North Chicago
Once the pods arrived with the last of the equipment from the bunkers, Kimber called Akio and reported that the mission was complete.
Akio thanked her for the report and he recalled the pods to Japan, where he said that maintenance needed to be done and Eve was best-suited to do the work.
The pods buttoned up, lifted off silently, and ascended into the evening sky.
Next to the hangar that bordered the LZ, a hole was taking shape that would be the foundation of an ammunition bunker. Jumbo was eating bushes and small trees along the path to the power plant as she waited in between lifts. No one knew how old Jumbo was or how much longer she had left. She looked old, but that didn’t mean anything.
She was still a big help to the community and was a friend to all, except the horse master, Kiwidinok. They’d had a falling out decades prior because of an issue over a shared pasture and the monumental amount of waste the elephant produced.
Kiwi was still the horse master, but her role was becoming less important with the production of powered vehicles. She’d built a significant herd of horses, many of which had been turned over to the wild because they were no longer needed and the increased time required to maintain such a herd became overwhelming.
Success had become its own punishment.
Kiwi continued to advise the Force as much as possible, teaching all the recruits how to ride, and holding monthly refreshers for those who made it to the rank of private.
She rode her newest mare onto the LZ, surprised at seeing all the pods gone. Her eyes drew naturally to her daughter Ayashe, standing to the side of the bunker’s excavation. Kiwi rode around the warriors and pulled up next to Ayashe.
Kiwi didn’t dismount, being as comfortable in the saddle as she was walking.
“My daughter,” she said formally.
“Mother. Come to see the big scar we’re tearing in Mother Earth?” Ayashe asked a little too sarcastically.
Kiwi pursed her lips and gritted her teeth before climbing from the saddle.
Ayashe apologized profusely while backing away. Kiwi strolled up to her daughter and stood with her arms crossed. “Metaguas has you in his ugly grasp, girl!” Kiwi intoned, shaking her fist at the sky.
Ayashe waited for her mother to finish. “I’ve been put in charge of building the ammunition bunker,” she managed to finally say.
“Do you know how to build one of those?” Kiwi wondered.
“I called Timmons and Shonna, then validated the drawing with Ted. To answer your question, I do know how to build one of those. Now, anyway.”
“And that is why you were chosen, my lovely daughter. I hear that the FDG is going to grow and they need strong leaders to carry it forward.” Kiwi probed without asking a direct question.
Ayashe knew the game well. If she waited long enough, her mother would say what she wanted to say.
They waited
an uncomfortably long time.
“Well?” Kiwi asked, understanding how Ayashe thought the game was played.
“I think I’m going to be a sergeant and get my own platoon,” Ayashe admitted.
“And then you’ll be gone,” Kiwi said matter-of-factly. “What about Camilla? Are you going to be able to keep her with you?”
“No,” Ayashe answered, shaking her head. “She’s on Kae’s recon team. She won’t leave that no matter what. I’m just a plain old grunt.”
“You are not plain anything,” Kiwi corrected. “Dinner at the ranch at six. Don’t be late.”
The horse master climbed back into the saddle and took the reins in a well-practiced grip.
“I don’t know if I’ll make it,” Ayashe started to say. Her mother held up her hand for silence. Kiwi pointed toward the barracks and motioned for someone to come near. Ayashe looked over her shoulder to see Gunnery Sergeant Lacy walking briskly toward them.
“Mother…”
Kiwi and Lacy were long-time and fast friends. “Kiwi! I would have come out sooner had I known you were here.”
“I have little time today and need to get back to the ranch. The errant fruit of my loins isn’t sure that she’ll make it to dinner tonight. I’m sure I misheard her.”
“You did, indeed, my friend!” Lacy replied with a big grin. “I would think that the corporal and the private will make it home in plenty of time to help you prepare the meal.”
Ayashe closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. “I’ll bring Camilla.”
“That’s what I thought,” Kiwi said, waving and turning the mare’s nose toward the west.
Ayashe waved back weakly. Lacy slapped her on the back. “Your parents are amazing people and have earned the respect of everyone they’ve worked with, the whole of the FDG. Colonel Walton and Major Charumati call them friends, not something to be taken lightly. It is okay to honor them. You’ve left the nest. You are your own person now, but as more of their kids leave, the lonelier and lonelier they get. Isn’t someone else running the ranch now?”
“Yes,” Ayashe replied softly.
“You’ll have plenty of time to work late when they’re gone,” Lacy added.
“That’s a cold thing to say,” Ayashe fired back, anger contorting her features.
“It’s my way of saying, don’t waste the time now. Share your successes and your life with your parents as you get older. One day, those words will be all they can hold onto.” Lacy remembered how crushed she was to find out that the mechanic and the engineer from New Boulder had both died before making the trip to North Chicago.
She had rushed off to make her mark on the world, leaving her family behind. If it hadn’t been for James, she wasn’t sure how she would have coped. She’d never said good-bye, thinking she had all the time in the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Aboard the Heywood, somewhere in the Caribbean
“Ten years?” Terry said for the third time. Akio had finally had enough information to determine how long it would take to build five pods using the New Schwabenland design and specifications. He’d also told them that it wasn’t safe to use his pods anymore.
“We’re trapped in the Caribbean?” Terry asked.
“I will make one last trip, Terry-san, when you are ready,” Akio said slowly and softly.
“Char’s pack is scattered across the world,” Terry said as much to himself as to Akio.
“And they are your eyes and ears, Terry-san. I am sorry, but we must reserve the pods for a real emergency for the risk to be acceptable. You lost two of your warriors when your pod went into the ocean. I do not wish to lose any more.”
“I’ll let you know when we’re ready for pickup, Akio-sama,” Terry said, resigned with their fate. Akio clicked off without further comment.
“Just when we thought everything was going so well,” Char said. “That should be your first warning.”
Terry leaned over the aft rail. “FUCK!” he screamed at the ocean. The sea remained nonplussed.
“What’s the plan, TH?” Char said, pushing Terry to get past the calamity that had been his previous plans.
“Amateurs talk tactics; professionals talk logistics. Right now, we have no supply chain. We are dead in the water with plans for world domination that look ridiculous while we wait at a bus stop, thumbs out for a ride,” Terry complained, as he saw no way past his dilemma.
“Wouldn’t this be the best time to not have a ride?” Char asked. “How long do Forsaken sleep?”
“Ten years, fifty years, fuck, I don’t know.” Terry watched his wife as she pushed her well-worn sunglasses up her nose.
“What do you say we drop ourselves off in New Orleans and head north along the mighty Mississippi? We’ll give the boat back to the boys. They can handle it.” Terry’s mind raced through new plans that didn’t involve flying in a pod.
“I better let the pack know,” Terry said.
Char held up a hand. “I’ll let my pack know,” she said sadly.
Terry felt like a buffoon. He hadn’t thought about the impact on the alpha.
An alpha without a pack.
He was just a colonel with people spread across the world, not even in harm’s way.
“What do you want to do, Char?” Terry asked gently. “New Orleans and walk or Cancun and ride. If we fly, then we give ourselves one less flight when we really need it.”
“Sounds like we’re going to take the scenic route,” Char replied, barely above a whisper as she fingered her comm device.
Terry pulled his from his pocket. “I’ll let the kids know that we’ll be late for dinner.”
Petersburg, Russia
Gene put his communications device away. He smiled at Fu, trying to disarm her, knowing that she was looking forward to going home.
“Looks like we have new home!” Gene said joyously and so loud that Fu covered her ears.
“What new home?” she asked, shivering slightly even though she wore the dublyonka he had purchased for her.
“Pods are broke. No pod. No flight. Ten years until next one is ready,” Gene explained succinctly.
Fu buried her face in her hands and started to cry. It tore at Gene’s heart and he fumbled about trying to hold her, but she moved away.
“What have I done to my Fu?” the Werebear cried. “I know. We travel to Black Sea. I carry you. Much warmer. We start today, get there before winter.”
“You would do that for me?” Fu asked, wiping her eyes with the back of a hand.
“I would do anything for my Fu. We leave now. Bring coat. I carry food.” Gene loaded a massive bag that looked like something Santa Claus might carry. He threw it over on shoulder and held his other hand out to Fu.
They walked outside and he carefully closed the door. They headed down the street, where Gene waved for Fu to follow because he had to tell someone. He stopped by the closest friend’s house.
“We are leaving for Black Sea. Tell stockyard that I am sorry, but I quit. Had to take wife somewhere warm before winter. Bye now.”
Gene didn’t bother listening to the man. He simply walked away, taking Fu’s hand as he passed and they started walking south.
Tianjin, China
“Char said ten years,” Aaron told Yanmei. It was the middle of the night and they were in bed, but they didn’t sleep much, the effects of being Weretigers. They napped like cats as opposed to sleeping for longer periods as humans were wont to do.
“Ooh. We can buy a house, make ourselves at home. I’d like to have my own kitchen. I am a very good cook, but it’s been awhile.”
Aaron turned on his side to drape an arm over Yanmei’s naked body. “I feel frisky,” Aaron whispered.
Yanmei smiled and pulled Aaron to her, happy that they were staying in China, that they were home.
Cancun
“I’ll be damned,” Shonna said, smiling. “Pod’s broke and we’re stuck here for ten years, unless we want to take a boat to New Orleans and wal
k from there.”
Merrit looked at her as if a third eye had appeared in the middle of her forehead.
“I don’t fucking think so,” Merrit replied with a laugh. “Let’s see. You get to live in your own little paradise or come home and work like a slave in an old, dirty power plant. Gee. I wonder which option we’re going to choose.”
Shonna started to dance. “It sucks to be everyone but us!” she sang. Merrit joined her and they danced in the silence before Merrit stopped.
“Why are we so happy?” he asked.
“Because we have our own lives here. We don’t have to answer to the alpha,” Shonna replied.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Shonna looked at the floor. Her shoulders sagged. “No,” she whispered. “I love having Char as an alpha. We’ve never had it so good. Look at us, celebrating what she gave us, because we don’t have to go home.”
“It’s our responsibility to do her proud. Ten years? We can do that standing on our heads. So, my little engineer, what do we want this place to look like in ten years so Char and Terry don’t think we’ve been slacking off?”
Manhattan
“We have a fucking house. There was no fucking way we were leaving,” Butch told the comm device.
“Butch. You seem to have returned to your city roots, the appropriate level of belligerence. Next time I see you, I’ll have to beat your ass, just because,” Char replied smoothly.
Butch didn’t answer. She looked at the device, knowing very well that she didn’t want a beat-down from the alpha.
“Shit,” she mumbled.
“Ten years. Think you can manage?” Char asked.
“We’ll be fine. You know that we already feel right at home. We have a nice gig here and most importantly, if any bad guys come sniffing around, the steel mill and the population around it will draw them like moths to a flame.”
Nomad's Force: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 9) Page 17
