Nomad's Force: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 9)

by Craig Martelle

  “Settle down, Pablo. They’re just cows. We’re going to get that bear and then that’ll be the end of it!” a second man proclaimed.

  “I have an idea,” Kimber whispered to Mack. He vigorously shook his head. “Follow my lead.”

  He sighed in surrender.

  She let her rifle hang casually within arm’s reach as she used her left hand to open the door and walk into the meeting.

  She smiled disarmingly. “My name is Kimber and I’m here to eliminate your bear problem.”

  “How do we know it wasn’t you doing the killing?” the man with the hysterical-sounding voice asked. He didn’t look upset, only wary.

  “Because I would not be so sloppy with the kill.” She patted her rifle. As she thought about it, she wondered if any of them had ever seen a rifle. Mack stood behind, fidgeting in his discomfort.

  “What do you want, and where did you come from?” the second man, the community’s calming force, asked.

  “I want you to continue building your community. We’re from San Francisco, where there is a burgeoning trade. I know their ships sometimes come up here, continue north to Seattle. We’ve heard there might be some outside forces trying to get into your business. We’re here to protect you from them. A bear? That’s an external force that damages your calm. We can’t have that. You would have never known that we were protecting you if we didn’t have to find out more about this bear. Show us the kills and we’ll take care of the rest.”

  Kimber stood casually, but her hand never left her rifle. She looked very young, but the men and women in the room didn’t let that take her credibility away. She spoke confidently and maturely. They responded to that. And most importantly, she offered to solve their problem. She had thrown them a lifeline.

  She could see in their eyes that they were going to take it.

  “Bring that lantern,” the second man said. “Follow me.”

  He left by the door through which Kim and Mack had just entered. Kim joined the older man at his side while Mack hung back to watch for traps, look for an ambush.

  But there was no subterfuge. The people needed help. They didn’t have firearms of any sort. Fighting an aggressive bear was beyond them.

  From the looks of the cow, the beast in question was a big brute.

  “When did this happen?” Kim asked.

  “This evening, not long before we called the meeting.”

  Kim’s mind looked at the possibilities. She knew from being raised with Gene and Bogdan the grizzly that a bear could cover a great deal of territory in a short amount of time. But one that was freshly gorged would probably not go too far, because it would search for a place to sleep.

  “We’ll go after it right now,” Kim said. “Leave it to us. Listen for gunfire. You’ll know we’ve found it. And then we’ll return with its hide so you know we were true to our word. Then we’ll talk again.”

  Kim didn’t know the man’s name. She intended to find out as soon as she killed and skinned the bear.

  She easily found the bear tracks heading toward the woods closest to the kill site.

  “Magazine check,” she called. Mack immediately pulled and checked all of his magazines. Kimber swapped out her silver-tipped bullets for normal rounds. She made sure her extra magazines were loose in her pouch, nodded once, and headed into the night. Mack stayed close behind. He could see her and that would have to be good enough. She could see almost as well at night as she could in the daytime.

  She strode briskly across a small open field, but slowed with her weapon raised when she entered the forest. Mack followed her lead, although he had no clue where to look. In the forest, he was barely able to make out the shape of his lieutenant three feet in front of him.

  Kimber moved silently, stepping and twisting slightly to keep from snapping a twig. Toe heel, toe heel she went.

  Time dragged for Mack and he started to take hits, his mind drifted and his vision blurred. He blinked repeatedly until he could no longer see at all. He couldn’t hear his lieutenant. He stopped and settled his back against a tree.

  “Lieutenant,” he whispered, only once. She’d find him or he’d have to wait until daylight to find his own way out. He had a comm device and a flashlight if it became an emergency. He braced himself against the tree, refusing to sit so he wouldn’t fall asleep.

  His head drooped and he was out, still standing.

  The rifle fire was close, within feet of him. He snapped awake to see the strobe like image of a bear closing on him. Kimber stood between him and the charging bear, methodically firing at the creature. One round after another until the bolt locked to the rear. She changed magazines in a second and resumed firing, speeding up as the bear closed.

  It tumbled, rolled, and wheezed its final breath.

  “Let’s skin that big bastard and get back to town. I promised the colonel a beer, and I like to keep my promises. By the way, sorry for using you as bait like that.”

  She didn’t sound sorry at all.

  As she pulled her knife, she silently thanked her dad for getting it back for her. When it had been stolen, she was crushed. Her parents had fixed that when they visited Kingston. When she found out the havoc they wrought, she wished she could have seen it. She expected that none of the Walton family would ever be allowed back in Jamaica.

  “I’m still seeing spots!” Mack complained.

  “Man up and get your knife out,” Kim told him.

  Los Angeles

  “Ultimate grimness,” Kae said to himself. “I’m not sure this could suck more.”

  The wind had died down and it was blazing hot. Touching exposed surfaces of metal or smooth stone resulted in sizzling flesh.

  The targets, on the other hand, seemed immune. They went about their business with impunity.

  What was their business? Kaeden and Camilla knew they were building a wall. That was easy, but why?

  Kaeden told Camilla to stay put while he returned to the unit bivouac site. Once out of sight, he hurried through the ruins to an old building, partially collapsed, but in such a way that the basement was protected. A stream from the hills provided a fresh water source. Kae gave the password and entered.

  He looked through the dust and pointed to two warriors. “I need two volunteers. Bing and Bradley. I need you to ditch your gear. You are on your way to supply some manual labor to a bunch of guys building a wall. Are they rebuilding the city? Then we can say we helped. If they’re building a prison of some sort, then we’ll know how to bring it down. Look humble and hungry and beg for work.”

  The warriors stripped to their t-shirts, pants, and combat boots. They didn’t look like refugees. “Could you guys look a little less buff?”

  Bing flexed and posed. “It took me my whole life to chisel this statue, thank you very much.” Bradley expanded his chest and sucked in his six-pack abs.

  “Somebody tell me this is a lousy plan,” Kae suggested.

  “We just need a different cover story. Security for hire and we ran out of luck. Just worked our way down from San Francisco where the people in charge weren’t moving us up the ranks,” Bing offered.

  Kae winced as the cover story hit too close to home.

  “It’s okay, boss,” Bing said soothingly. “I don’t think that way. No one does. We are who we are because the colonel gave us a chance. We’re here, forward deployed because we were one of the best in the competition. I’m proud of that. I’ll be proud to get inside with the wall builders, too, and let you know what’s up.”

  Bradley nodded, flexing one more time for the rest of the platoon.

  “Follow me, you knuckleheads.” Kaeden smiled. The best lies contained grains of truth. He made a mental note to discuss it with his dad, find out what could be done.

  Kaeden headed past the manned entry, dashing from cover to cover as he worked his way back through the ruins. Bing and Bradley followed closely behind. When Kae got close, he slowed, careful not to kick up any dust that would give away their observati
on post. The two warriors nodded to Camilla as they peeked beyond the broken window frame.

  “There they are. Looks like they could use a hand, know what I mean?” Kae whispered.

  “Ready?” Bing asked. Bradley nodded. They left the OP and walked perpendicular to where they wanted to go, in case someone tried to backtrack them. They decided to come from the north, make their cover story that much more plausible.

  When they were far enough away from the OP, they turned and headed straight for the construction site. As they got close, they saw that the wall wasn’t just in one area. It was going to be tied in across a number of buildings.

  “Amigos!” Bing called. “We need work and you look like you could use some help.”

  Bing and Bradley strolled ahead without any fear. Only two men were working in this area and they weren’t armed. If they turned hostile, they were no match for the warriors.

  “Where’d you come from? You scared the shit out of me!” one of the men exclaimed.

  “From the north, San Francisco. We had a little falling out up there. Decided to try our hand in greener pastures.” Bing looked around at the gray and brown of the ruins.

  “Greener pastures! That’s a funny one.” The man looked nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting to get in trouble for talking. “Move those blocks over here for us. No promises, but if you do a good job, I can say something to my foreman.”

  Bing and Bradley shrugged indifferently and got to work. Although they tried to engage the men in conversation, the workers weren’t forthcoming.

  Wall construction progressed quickly, probably three times faster than what it would have been without the two warriors. In late afternoon, after the men had drank all their water and were looking for more, a new man arrived.

  Dusty, skin cracked and burnt from the sun, he looked down on the two newcomers. He grunted something to which Bing and Bradley both shook their heads, looking to their co-workers to help them answer.

  “They showed up from San Francisco. Willing to work, so they hauled block and didn’t complain about it.” That was all the one man would commit to.

  Bing couldn’t argue with the facts, but his back was complaining plenty. He restrained himself from sharing his pain. He could see on Bradley’s face that he was also suffering from a hot day of backbreaking labor.

  The foreman looked them up and down. “You look healthy. Why would you want to leave that?”

  Bradley looked to Bing.

  “Because fuck them. They didn’t appreciate what we could do. Labor like this? Fine, but there needs to be something in it for me, for us. We’ll work, but we need to eat, drink, and our real talents lie in the area of security. You’re building a wall. That tells me you want to keep something out or something in. We can help with either, so which is it?” Bing replied smoothly.

  “You ask a lot of questions for a beggar.” The foreman scowled. He turned to the other two. “Share your rations with them if you want. I got nothing for them,” the foreman said with a dismissive wave, before turning to Bing and Bradley. “Beg those SFers to take you back. Now fuck off.”

  They watched the gruff man leave before turning to the stone masons. “That’s the most pleasant he’s ever been. He must have been happy with the wall,” one man said, beaming. He shook hands with the other man and they clapped each other on the shoulder in celebration.

  “That was his happy face? I thought it was his douchebag face,” Bing suggested.

  “You’re free to work, but I’m not sharing my rations with you. Sorry.” The other man shook his head, too.

  “We’ll give it another day. He may warm up to us. See you in the morning, bitches.” Bing left heading north, walking casually and feeling like crap. He needed to drink water. He expected heat exhaustion was trying to seize him in its ugly grasp.

  “We need to get back. I’m dying out here.”

  “Me, too, Bing man. Me, too,” Bradley agreed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  San Francisco

  The boat swayed with the waves as it navigated the trap line. Crab pots. Fifty of them spread along the ocean floor. Their glass buoys with white ruffled skirting was the only evidence that they were there.

  None of the regular crew could spot the buoys at night. Those with enhanced night vision could see them and were necessary to lead the boat from one pot to the next.

  The crew would pull them up, dump them, rebait the pot and send it back down. The process was both fast and slow, taking all night, but the reward was a hold full of crab that they delivered to the processing facility each morning.

  Terry worked the trap line while Char shouted the directions to the next pot. She was clinging to the deck rail above the island house, where she squinted into the stiff breeze.

  The boat danced from side to side in the heavy waves.

  Terry, Joseph, and Andrew all pitched in to make it go faster. They knew the surf was right at the edge of where it was safe to work. Terry had had too many close calls on the sailboat. He had no desire to go into the drink off the coast of California. Char agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Git ‘er done!” she yelled from above.

  “Motherfucker!” Terry shouted above the din of the surf and the pounding of gear being slammed around the deck. His fingers started to heal themselves already, but they were sliced to the bone. He shook off the blood and renewed his efforts to drag a recalcitrant trap onto the deck. He heard a thump as the winch locked. The pot broke open and crabs flowed across the deck. The crew kicked them into the hold.

  “Wrap it up and take us home!” Joseph shouted. Char climbed to the deck before the surf overwhelmed the small vessel.

  The pilot gave him the thumbs up and muscled the boat through the waves, sent the throttles toward the firewall and plowed through the waves toward entrance to San Francisco Bay.

  The crew hung on as the rough seas tried to take them, but the recent overhaul helped the engine roar smoothly, powering the crabber through the waves, past the swirling tide and into the relative shelter of the bay.

  Terry and Char cheered with the crew as the pilot let off the gas and drove smoothly to the docks. Joseph and Andrew weren’t prone to such displays.

  Terry grasped Joseph’s hand and pulled him close. “Let me tell you a secret. Crabs give me the willies. They creep me out.”

  “Genital crabs?” Joseph whispered conspiratorially.

  “No!” Terry retorted, looking to see if Char heard. She looked at both with her mom face.

  Busted.

  TH flexed his fingers to stretch the newly repaired skin. “My crabbing days are over. I’d rather be dumped overboard in those raging seas than spend one more minute with that incessant clicking sound they make.”

  Joseph held his hands up and shook his head.

  “What’d I miss?” Andrew asked.

  “Big tough man is afraid to get the crabs.”

  “I don’t blame him. That shit’s horrible, itches to high heaven!” Andrew nodded sympathetically.

  “All righty then!” Terry said, bowing deeply, then giving Joseph the finger as he jumped for the dock, vowing never to set foot again on Joseph and Andrew’s boat.

  The Forsaken’s boat, which was the heart and soul of a reputable business.

  Char vaulted after TH, grabbing his hand for the early morning stroll back to their quarters. She didn’t need to say anything, because crabbing wasn’t for her, either. There was nothing to talk Terry out of.

  Portland

  “Ramses is on his way from the north. Marcie is on her way from the south. Looks like this is the place to be!” Kimber declared. “For fuck’s sake, quit dicking around. Let’s go!” The four warriors she’d chosen to introduce to the town were primping and preening.

  After they killed the bear and carried its hide to town, she saw what they were hiding. Most of the town was women and girls. They dressed like men, but up close, their disguises weren’t that good.

  “Why?” Kimber had as
ked.

  “Because of the raiders,” an older man had answered. They’d killed most of the men, but the town had persevered. It had grown, but for some reason, females were born twice as often as males.

  “When were they here last? We can hunt them down and finish it,” Kimber had told them.

  “Twenty years, maybe?” No one knew for sure.

  To put their minds at ease and to help spread the FDG out, Portland was going to be the second garrison. The unit left behind in North Chicago would always be the first.

  If Kimber could convince the town to support a disciplined group of warriors. Mack, two other men, and one woman were going to accompany Kim to meet the town elders.

  “Stop it, you dorks. No fraternizing with the locals. We have a job to do!” The three men looked everywhere but at the lieutenant. She grabbed Mack’s collar. “If any of them run astray, I’ll have your ass!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked to the other two men. “Don’t let her catch you or I’m in trouble.”

  Kimber rolled her eyes and shook her head, completely baffled by the mischaracterization of her order. Mack smiled innocently as he ran his fingers through his short hair one more time before scrubbing at his teeth with a finger.

  “My kids are more mature than you lot.”

  “Fuck, ma’am. Your kids are older than us,” one of the warriors said in a low voice that tapered off as he heard the words out loud. Her glare told him that what sounded good in his head wasn’t when it hit the real world. “I’m going to go over here and make believe like I’m looking at something important.”

  The young man did exactly that.

  “I’m not old!” Kimber replied defensively. “And my son’s only a couple years old.”

  “Like he said…” Mack let it go. “We won’t embarrass you, Lieutenant. You’ll do great and then we’ll establish a garrison here. There will be much cheering and joy.”

  “Cheering and joy, huh? Let’s go before you make me beat the shit out of all of you!”

  They stepped off toward the town, walking warily, weapons on their combat slings and ready to be brought to bear.