He scratched her behind her ears and stroked her neck. She stood on her back legs, putting her front paws over his shoulders. He hugged her to him and rubbed her sides as he did so. Then he found himself embracing a naked woman, finding his hand on her bare butt. He let go and tried to pull away, but she grabbed his head and planted her lips on his.
The heat, like fire, burned him without burning, like a hot sauce that one was used to. Terry lost himself for a moment and then pushed her away, looking at her in surprise.
“I’m not sure about this,” he said, sounding very unlike the Marine Corps colonel he was trying to be. “Integrity and honor above all.”
“What’s any of that have to do with us?” she asked. “I can smell your pheromones. You can’t hide that from me.”
“The people I loved ended up dead. I don’t know if I can love anyone again. Dammit, Char! We make a good team, and I don’t want to lose you. Go on now, get dressed. I’m sure the others are waiting impatiently,” he said, looking away.
Char took two steps with her shoulders slumped. When she turned back, she saw Terry watching her, eyes glistening. She straightened as he blinked rapidly. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, smiling at the pheromones that poured from Colonel Terry Henry Walton.
“Someday,” she whispered as he beat a hasty retreat to where they left the horses and the others. Then she stopped when she smelled something else.
* * *
Marcus was running out of gas. He had been jogging for miles, following the charcoal marks on the roadway to keep going in the direction the others had gone. He’d sniff the ground on occasion to make sure the horses had come this way. He caught his mate’s scent on the air, in areas where the wind hadn’t touched it. But she was far ahead.
He kept going, maintaining his anger, but he was burning out. The healing process from the bear’s injuries was taking more out of him than he wanted. He still had a ways to go. He finally stopped, because he needed to eat, which meant that he had to have enough energy to hunt, which he didn’t.
Marcus found shelter in a small brick building. He curled up to sleep. He’d hunt after a nap and then he’d follow them, wherever they were going. He’d catch them and kill the humans, one by one, as Char watched. Then he’d have her, too. No one stood up to him like that.
No one. Not ever.
* * *
Billy Spires walked through the power plant looking for the mechanic, but found the engineer first.
“Billy!” the man called out, always happy to see his benefactor. The mayor had treated both the engineer and the mechanic right from day one after the WWDE. “What brings you in today?”
“Just stopping by with a question. How many people are too many here in New Boulder?”
“We’re not anywhere near that, Billy. This power plant? If we can improve the step-down transformers and distribution lines, we should be able to power a city ten times what we have now, as long as we use electrical heat sparingly or air conditioning in the summer. Those pull too large a load. Lights, cooking, and refrigeration shouldn’t be a problem for a city of a thousand people,” the man said, unsure if that was what Billy was looking for.
Billy studied the overhead piping of the small facility. Steam rose in odd places. Some pipes dripped water and other chemicals to the floor. The place looked like it was held together by spit and bailing wire.
“We need this place, engineer. Not going to fall apart or anything, is it?” Billy asked skeptically.
“It could use a little work, but we just lost one of our hands. Lacy joined your security people. What do they call it?” The engineer curled a lip when he asked the question.
“Force de Guerre, the FDG. I guess it means War Force or something like that. I don’t speak Greek.” Billy shrugged. “When they return, we’ll make sure we get Lacy back in here, and some more help for you, too. As the greenhouses wind down for the season, will you be able to use some of those people?”
The man scratched his neck before answering, “Possibly. We need people who already have some mechanical skill. We can teach the others basics, but that takes time and takes us away from the main job of keeping the system dialed in, which reminds me, I need to get back to the control room.” The engineer excused himself and hurried off.
Billy watched him go and continued his walk through the plant. He didn’t understand any of the systems, only that the engineer and the mechanic had brought it back to life after the fall. Billy had given them the freedom to accomplish that.
Because he was a benevolent dictator. As Terry Henry had told him, the world needed Billy Spires and Billy needed them, too.
Billy couldn’t find the mechanic. He decided to leave and go work on the car until he could ask a question about the alternator. They’d taken it off and Billy had cleaned it up, but had no idea how or even if it worked.
The mechanic had taken the belts to the plant and carefully laid them in an area that was warm and filled with steam. He hoped that would rejuvenate the rubber so the belt would work as intended, turning the various shafts within the engine.
When Billy opened the door to the garage, he found the mechanic installing the alternator. “Billy! You did a great job on this. It looks to be generating electricity as it’s supposed to. The battery is at the plant. We’ve tweaked up the acids inside and it looks to be holding a charge. You know what? I think this bitch is going to roll!”
The mechanic’s grin was infectious. Billy rolled up his sleeves and prepared to dive in. Together they had kept at it, cleaning, scraping, grinding, and sanding as they rebuilt the engine, one step at a time. The mechanic loved the work, but he was getting older, already a good twenty years older than Billy. His hair had long since turned gray and his hands were gnarled from the hard work they’d done over a lifetime.
“Isn’t it about time that you taught someone else, someone younger, mechanic?” Billy asked.
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” the man snapped back.
“I’m just thinking that you’re getting older and look at everything you’ve learned in your life. You don’t want to waste that!” Billy explained.
“I know exactly what you mean. When I die, poor Billy Spires and his woman are going to be left out in the cold. Like I said, fuck you.” The mechanic crawled from under the engine compartment and started wiping his hands, grumbling.
That was what Billy meant, but surely the man had to know that it would take a while to train the next mechanic. Billy watched the man storm out, neither saying anything else.
“You have to know that you’re getting older? Don’t you want to stand back and teach a younger generation?” Billy told the retreating figure, knowing that the mechanic couldn’t hear him.
Billy didn’t understand what happened, but it made him think. What if someone brought that up to him? What would have happened to New Boulder if Marcus had killed him?
Although Billy didn’t intend to die anytime soon, it would take him a while to pass on what he learned in his life.
“I wonder how Felicity will be as a mother?” he asked himself out loud, thinking she may not go along with his newly discovered desire for an heir. That could be a rough conversation. He would have to make sure the windows were closed so they didn’t entertain the guards out front while Billy was getting neutered. He cringed at the thought.
“Maybe she’ll take it well,” he said, trying to comfort himself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
James watched the colonel and the major as the group pushed on. Wherever they had gone on the break, something had changed between them. When they returned, the colonel was distant and short. The major was pleasant enough, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes from Terry Henry.
James figured they had a fight. He didn’t know much about relationships. His parents were inseparable all the way to their deaths. Once he arrived in Brownsville, he didn’t see anything that looked like a normal relationship. Some of the oldsters talked about being marr
ied and settling down. They talked as if it were heaven.
He’d been watching Terry and Char, the colonel and the major, and considered them to be as close as two human beings could be. He hoped they weren’t fighting, that could make a long trip pretty miserable. He had so much to learn while on the road.
James sidled up next to the colonel during one of the walking phases of the travel. Thirty-thirty, he called it. Thirty minutes running and thirty minutes walking. James didn’t know how he determined the time, but when he waved them to run, they kicked the horses into a trot that devoured distance without wearing the horses down, then they’d walk to rest, while continuing to cover ground.
They’d left the road and were traveling in the trickle of a river that was the South Platte. They watered the horses often, but didn’t let them graze as much as Gerry wanted. He conceded for the moment, but insisted they find a good place when they settled in for the night and give the horses the opportunity to eat to their hearts’ content.
“Thanks for bringing me along,” James started. Terry nodded and looked at the young man. “I would like to know about training. We’re going to do an awful lot of riding, and I get that, but I have a lot to learn. I don’t want to waste any of the time I get to spend with you guys.”
Terry looked across the road at Char. She was sniffing the air and squinting toward the horizon. He hoped she found the scent of something they could eat. He was getting hungry while trying to ration his remaining stash of goodies from Margie Rose. They’d been on the road nearly a full day, and he’d only eaten two pieces of venison jerky and a roll, besides the big breakfast the old woman had prepared.
They needed to hunt. The horses needed to graze. And it was time to come clean with his people.
“Halt!” Terry yelled as he held up his hand. Char looked at him sharply.
“Prey?” he asked closer to a whisper. She nodded as they sat atop their horses, waiting. She climbed down and shifted her pistols on her hips. Terry pointed ahead and she disappeared into a nearby ravine at a dead run.
He knew that she had to be hungry after the earlier workout. Terry hoped that she’d catch something big. He held his finger up to his lips. “Make camp. Quiet now, until we know if the hunt was successful. James, set up a defensive perimeter and watch schedule, include the major and me. We all stand watch.”
James turned his horse and slowly walked back to the others, letting them know that they were to set up camp.
Terry pointed to a spot against a bank, sheltered on three sides. “Make a fire in there so it can’t be seen. Wait until dark to light it, shouldn’t be too long now.” James issued a couple orders, then joined Lacy, and they headed down the mostly-dry riverbed to gather driftwood.
Terry removed his and Char’s saddles then listened to see if he could hear where she’d gone. Geronimo was taking care of the other six horses, while the others prepared the camp. The ammunition almost made Gerry’s knees buckle when he lifted it from the pack horses. Heavy packs all, but they had more firepower than Terry thought they’d use. He hoped they wouldn’t get into a firefight like that, but better to have the ammunition and not need it.
The squeal of a javelina or other wild pig came clearly from the direction that Char had gone. Then a second. Terry’s mouth started to water. Roast pig sounded good. It took another forty-five minutes before Char arrived with one pig, cleaned and ready to roast.
“Are you good?” Terry asked cryptically with James and Lacy nearby and Devlin and Gerry standing on the bank, one on each side of the river.
She hesitated before answering, looking at the others. “I’m good,” she finally said.
Terry butchered the small pig so it would cook more quickly, then handed everyone a couple pointed sticks to cook their pieces. He didn’t have the time or inclination to build a spit. Clyde was exhausted, barely able to lift his head after nearly a full day of running after the horses. Terry fed the dog plenty of meat and gave him a leg bone to chew on while they cooked the rest of the pig. Clyde fell asleep with the bone in his mouth.
They cooked in silence and when their dinner was ready, Terry called the others down, while Char took the watch. Only he and Char knew that she’d already eaten, but to the others, it looked like she was taking one for the team.
Terry ate quickly, wolfing down his portion while the other one he’d cooked stayed warm for anyone who wanted more.
“Have you heard of Werewolves?” he asked. No one had. “Wolves?”
They nodded, curious where he was going.
“A Werewolf is a person who can turn into a wolf, but a powerful wolf, one that normal weapons don’t affect. That’s why I told the guard in New Boulder to send that man-mountain Marcus after us. They couldn’t fight him and win. He would kill them all and there would be nothing they could do about it. We’re out here because he’s chasing after his mate,” he said.
They looked confused. Geronimo’s eyes shot wide. “Char!” he exclaimed.
“That’s right, the major is a Werewolf. And she’s going to have to fight him. We will be of little help. While out here, she’s going to train to get faster, stronger, and ready to take him on. She’ll need all of our help. For now, I need you all to unload your weapons, lock the bolts to the rear. We can’t have any accidents.” The four young members of the Force sat there and looked from Terry to their rifles.
“What are you waiting for?” he growled. “I gave you an order.” They jumped into action. Lacy ejected her round directly into the fire and Terry dove in after it, pulling a scorched hand out with the round. He tossed it to back to the private.
“Please be more careful next time,” he grunted, cradling his arm as the nanocytes rushed into action. Lacy was shocked as she looked at the skin starting to bubble on two of Terry’s fingers.
“Char! If you would be so kind,” Terry said into the darkness. With a small avalanche of dirt and rocks, a massive, brown she-wolf slid down the hillside. She crouched and growled when she hit the river bed. Devlin jumped backward, tripped over the log he’d been sitting on, and landed flat on his back. James jumped up.
“Sit down!” Terry ordered in his commander’s voice. “This is our secret and you must keep it. You cannot tell anyone, ever, on pain of banishment and death. Do you understand me?” They nodded, but that wasn’t good enough.
“I need each of you to look me in the face and tell me that you will take this secret to your graves. James?” One by one they swore to keep Char’s secret. She strolled around the fire, walking close to each member of the Force, sniffing them and intimidating them. They recognized her purple eyes and felt more at ease, though fear still gripped them.
They’d never imagined that something like that existed. Their worlds had been simple ones, where finding food and water was the major effort of the day.
Devlin returned to his seat and ran a hand down the she-wolf’s side. She snarled at him and he pulled back. “Keep your hands off the major, please,” Terry said, trying not to laugh. She walked around the circle and sat down, very doglike, next to Terry Henry Walton, where she leaned so heavily against him that she almost knocked him off his log. He wrapped his arm around her to keep from falling and stayed in that position.
Devlin pointed at him. “The major?” Terry shook his head.
“I will protect her with my life,” Terry told them. She nuzzled his head in reply. He breathed deeply of the fur around her ears, smelling some of Char, a little of Clyde, and even some of himself. She stood and shook, smacking Terry with her ears and snickering, then slunk off into the darkness.
Shortly, the human Char joined them, bumping Terry over on his log to take her own seat. She took the last skewer and nibbled at the meat, but wrinkled her nose and handed it to James, who looked at it longingly. He broke it into four pieces and handed it to his squad.
Terry approved.
“Load up and go back on watch. You know what the major looks like in wolf form. The other one will be all black and b
ig, much bigger. Watch for him. The only thing you can do is shoot him often until we can get there. We have a couple tricks up our sleeves that may give us an advantage.”
“Like what?” James asked.
* * *
Marcus woke and it was already dark. He felt refreshed enough to hunt, so he changed into the great black Werewolf. He headed out, circling to find a scent, then circled further. When he found nothing, he returned for his clothes and carrying them in his mouth, he followed the cold scent of the horses along the riverbed.
He ran up the bank at regular intervals to listen and sniff the air. When he smelled the buffalo, he had to go after it. It was a long ways off, but it would give him the strength he needed to catch his wayward mate and destroy those who traveled with her.
Across a great area of devastation he ran. No water and years of excessive heat had turned the land rough. It was nothing more than dried mud, which helped him as he ran, adjusting as the breeze carried the smell of a herd. He ran and ran, going north, further and further. Another river with more water was there, grass and trees growing along its bank.
A small herd of buffalo grazed peacefully, unaware of the violence headed their way.
Marcus adjusted to come in from downwind. The darkness concealed his black form. As he approached, he surprised a number of sleeping buffalo. Those he saw grazing were in the minority. The greatest number had been laying down. He looked for a calf, found one next to its mother, and he leapt onto its back.
The buffalo panicked, running every which way as the calf tried to dislodge the wolf perched on its back. The mother ran off with the others, leaving Marcus to finish his kill and begin the feast.
* * *
James shook Terry Henry awake at what seemed like the middle of the night. “What happened?” he asked, brain fogged by the deep slumber from which he’d been roused.
“Nothing, sir. It’s your watch, now till morning. You and the major,” he whispered. Terry blinked to clear his eyes, finding Char wrapped in his blanket with her head on his chest. His shirt and the cool of the night protected him from the Werewolf’s heat. James dutifully avoided looking at how the two were intertwined.
Nomad Redeemed: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 2) Page 11
