Nomad Unleashed

by Craig Martelle

  Billy hoped there were a few accomplished hunters in the group. He had lost more than he replaced, but with Terry Henry returned, he would ask if the Force could go into the mountains and bring something home. Maybe they could start butchering their growing herd of livestock. The buffalo herd had moved close to New Boulder as well since the water sources led them that way.

  They’d tried to fence them in, but that didn’t work. In seconds, one angry buffalo was able to undo the work that four men had done over two full days.

  When the cheering stopped, Billy took Felicity’s hand and went back inside. He’d seen her scanning the crowd for young men to look at. He’d gotten over being jealous and simply accepted that it was her way. She liked to be appreciated and although motherhood had put a few extra pounds on her, which she complained about vociferously, he didn’t care and went out of his way to tell her how good she looked every single day.

  It was a lesson that Terry Henry had urged him to learn. Billy told Terry that he should do the same thing for Char, which made Terry laugh, because he thought that she knew she looked good, so why did he have to say anything?

  Sixty-five years and he still had a lot to learn.

  Terry dismissed the squad, sending them to the barracks for well-earned R&R, while he and Char headed toward the home that Margie Rose shared with them. They never considered getting a place of their own. They’d adopted the old lady as their stand-in mother.

  James took his squad back to the barracks. Although they couldn’t wait to be home, they rode slowly. The horses were tired and Gerry didn’t want to see them strain anything at this late point in their journey.

  “What in the holy jump-the-fuck-up-and-down is that?!” James bellowed as he and his squad were making their way around the barracks and to the stables.

  James called a halt as Blackbeard and Mark rolled out of the building yelling to “hold fire.”

  “Do you like our mascot?” Mark asked, not fully committed. Blackie ran past the others and to the enclosure. He jumped the fence and stood between the returning squad and the grizzly cub.

  Blackie shouted, “His name is Hank, and he needs us!”

  James put his face in his hand before wiping it and looked around before coming back to Blackie. “So where do we put the horses?”

  Mark pointed to the back side of the stable. “We’ll have it partitioned soon. The cub kind of likes the horses, even though we had to finish its mother because she killed and ate one of the civilian’s horses and was coming after us. Got us eight hundred pounds of meat out of it, along with the cub.”

  Blackie rustled the small bear’s head, and the two started to wrestle. “What in the hell are you going to tell the colonel?” James asked.

  “Still working on it,” Mark replied.

  “I expect he’ll be here tomorrow morning, sooooo, good luck with that,” James waved the squad forward. They settled the horses, giving them a quick brush, before lugging their gear back to the small building where they slept four to a room.

  Except for James and Lacy, they headed somewhere else.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I’m so happy to see you!” Margie Rose glowed, older and gimpier, but still rosy-cheeked and happy. Terry and Char both hugged her as they went inside, Clyde pushing past and heading straight for the kitchen. He snagged two muffins from the counter before Margie Rose got to him. “I’m not happy to see you, you flea-bitten mongrel!”

  “How’s my beer?” Terry asked.

  “How would I know?” Margie answered, waving him away.

  “That’s the first thing you say?” Char said, slapping TH on the shoulder. Margie Rose looked at them expectantly. “We’re engaged!”

  Margie Rose rushed in for another hug, inadvertently surrendering her defense of the kitchen. Clyde was there like a shot and counter-surfed the other four muffins, before heading to his spot on the couch.

  Margie Rose and Char giggled together as they headed toward the old woman’s room. Terry stood in the living room, alone and forgotten. Not even a muffin to eat.

  He went outside, walked around back, and dug into the shaded dirt under the house where he kept his beer. The mason jars were still sealed and cool enough. He popped one.

  Fizz. He touched it to his lips. A smooth dark beer with a hint of cherry. He closed his eyes. Yes, this could possibly be the best beer he had ever tasted in his whole life. He sat where he was, in the shade, and casually sipped the remainder of that jar, belched like a man, then grabbed a second one for his return indoors.

  The women had returned and were chatting on the couch. They both glared at him as he stood there with a beer.

  “What did I do?” They laughed without sharing the joke.

  “Time to celebrate with the happy couple,” Margie declared before dragging them into the kitchen.

  “You have to taste this,” Terry told Char.

  “What the hell for?” Char shot back. “Beer is your thing, but a good Port is more my speed.” Char winked, but Terry pressed the beer into her hands. She sipped it, made a face, and handed it back.

  “That means more for me,” he said, smiling. She sniffed.

  “Smells like you’ve had enough already.” She put her hands on her hips.

  Terry had previously thought their relationship had been like being married without the benefits. Now that he had the full package, he realized that he had been right, and she’d been right, too. They’d been married from the second she moved into the house.

  He had wasted two years.

  He started to laugh, gulped from his jar of beer, and picked Char up to swing her around. Then he hugged Margie Rose from behind as she puttered at the stove. She almost forgot to wash the muffin pan because Clyde had licked it so clean.

  The house was in chaos, so that meant business as usual. It was good to be home.

  “We’ll be heading out again soon, Margie Rose,” Terry said, dampening the mood.

  Margie Rose hung her head for a second before recovering, her eyes glistened. “I guess my grandchildren can wait a little while longer, but not too long! I’m not getting any younger,” she cautioned them.

  Terry started to answer, but Char put her finger to her lips.

  “It will be our honor to give you grandchildren, and you better stick around for a while, Margie Rose. I don’t think I can look after the ten or fifteen of them by myself!” The old woman giggled anew as she mixed some things into a pan. Terry tried to look past her, see what his dinner would be, but Char slapped him again.

  He tucked his tail between his legs and joined Clyde on the couch.

  “Get that mongrel out of here. This dinner isn’t for him,” Margie Rose said. Char rested her head on the old woman’s shoulder and caressed her back.

  Terry pointed to Clyde and then pointed back at himself and raised an eyebrow. Char shrugged because she wasn’t sure which mongrel Margie Rose was talking about.

  Terry ruffled Clyde’s hair, “Come on, Clyde, let’s see if any rabbits found their way back into that brush pile out back,” Terry told his dog. They both got up, stretched, and slowly, almost defiantly, made their way to the front door. While never taking her eyes from her pan, Margie Rose shook her wooden spoon over her shoulder at them.

  Terry and Clyde bolted out the front door without further charades.

  ***

  “It’s nice to be back in some semblance of mountains. I think my fur will never be the same again,” Sue said, growing more vocal the further north they traveled.

  “Deer,” Timmons said noncommittally. The rest of the pack perked up, reaching out with their senses. It had been a while since they had more than they could eat. Timmons had once asked the question of whether Werewolves could get fat. He didn’t have to ask if they could lose weight. They were on the verge of starvation and they’d all grown lean in the past few weeks.

  Lean and not in a good way.

  “A herd,” Merrit added. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use
a good meal right about now.”

  “And a bath,” Xandrie said, wrinkling her nose.

  The pack dropped the ramshackle clothing they’d gathered and changed into Werewolf form. They looked straggly, like homeless dogs who’d been on the streets too long.

  But they were far harder than when they left, harder than when they ran under Marcus. The complaining had died away, mostly. Ted remained obsessed about an arrival date. He just wanted to know, but never gave his reasoning. He sulked more, but kept up during the daily marathons through the torturous heat.

  The promise of venison put a dangerous spring back into their wolf steps. They dashed off, spreading out into a large arc, centered on the herd of five deer. They approached, cautiously, not making a sound. The deer perked up. A breeze blew past one end of the arc, sending the scent of the predators wafting past the prey.

  They spooked and bolted in all directions. The Werewolves were galvanized into action and launched themselves after their selected targets. They mercilessly ran the deer down and killed them one by one, viciously, with almost insane fury.

  The deer died with barely a snort or buck. The Werewolves were hungry and they meant to eat. The killings weren’t ritualistic or prolonged. The pack dug in, sharing and cleaning the bones of all five deer. They ripped off the larger leg bones and carried them back to where they dropped their clothes, but they didn’t change back into human form. They gnawed on the leg bones, barely more than wild creatures as they cracked and chewed, licked the marrow, and reveled in being wolves.

  ***

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Terry said, arms resting on the top board of the enclosure. “You fucking knuckleheads brought a grizzly cub into town?”

  “Only one knucklehead, sir,” Mark replied and nodded toward Blackie, who was trying to get the bear to drink water from the bucket. The cub kept knocking the bucket over and was now covered with mud. He had yet to take a drink.

  “That’s right. You were in charge, and that makes you responsible for everything your people do or don’t do. Why didn’t you say no?”

  Mark stood tall and took his dressing down well. He turned to Char, looking for a friend in court. She raised one eyebrow at him. “But he’s so darned cute and he would have died!” was all Mark could come up with.

  Terry buried his face in his hands. Clyde continued to bark at the bear. The big coonhound had yet to have a happy encounter with a bear. Every time before, the bear ended up dead.

  He barked and barked, wondering why his humans weren’t taking action.

  He finally gave up and took off after the horses, racing back with his tail between his legs when the first one kicked him. Clyde retreated to the shade beside the barracks and pouted.

  “We’re stuck with that thing until the end of days,” Terry lamented.

  “If we can’t feed it, we’ll just turn it loose,” Mark suggested.

  Terry turned to look at Mark, one eyebrow raised, “Really? It won’t know the wild when that day comes. It’ll return here and it won’t die of hunger. It’s a grizzly and it’ll help itself to one of the horses, the livestock, or worse, a person. No, we’re stuck with something that needs to eat twenty to thirty pounds of food a day. The good news is that seventy percent or more of a grizzly’s diet can be grains or berries, stuff like that. They’re omnivores,” Terry shared.

  The others simply looked at him.

  “They eat far more than just meat. Omnivores. A carnivore gets everything they need from meat, like a bobcat or a mountain lion. Humans are omnivores.” Terry had to remind himself that few of these men had any kind of formal education. They were all too young on the WWDE.

  “Corporal Blackbeard!” Terry called out. Blackie ran to the fence and stood at the position of attention.

  Until the bear cub ran into him and knocked him down. Char started to laugh as the young man and the grizzly wrestled. Finally reaching an impasse with the bear, Blackie gave what was left of his attention to the colonel.

  “Blackbeard. You have full responsibility for this animal, so it’s up to you to train him. If someone raids us, will he be on the front lines, doing what he has to do to defend the citizens of New Boulder?” Terry asked, making it up as he went.

  “Yes, sir! I’ll train him up right smart. He’ll fight alongside my squad,” the young man declared. Char had to turn away. A bear fighting alongside a Werewolf and a bunch of humans. The grizzly launched itself at the fence, snarling at Char’s back. When she faced the bear, it whimpered and dropped to all fours.

  “Damn, ma’am. Why do you think he’s doing that?” Blackie asked. Char shook her head and walked quickly away. James and Lacy had joined them and looked at each other knowingly. Char pointed a finger at the both of them and they looked quickly away.

  Ignoring the byplay, Terry asked. “What’s his name, Blackie?”

  “Hank, sir,” Blackbeard replied proudly. For a second time, Terry put his head in his hands.

  Great, I have a bear named after me, just like that bastard Greasy Bob from college. He called me Hank because he said I didn’t look like a Terry, but more like a bookworm called Henry, he thought. Should have called that cub Godzilla for how much havoc he will wreak.

  “Fine,” Terry conceded, accepting that nothing was fine. As he always did when things weren’t fine, he found PT, physical training, to be a great reliever. “Formation run!”

  Terry headed to the front of the barracks. His people started to move, but not quickly enough. “FORMATION RUN!” he yelled. The squad leaders started yelling at their people and finally there was much scrambling.

  Terry was relieved by the sounds of people rushing around. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel good to see his folks acting with a sense of purpose. After they formed up, he opened the ranks and they did calisthenics. Char joined in, too.

  Clyde did not. Terry had to dispatch Gerry to rescue the horses and chase Clyde back toward the formation. When Clyde arrived, happy, tail wagging, Terry cautioned him. “I’m going to put a leash on you!” The dog seemed indifferent to the notion, or he didn’t understand.

  They closed ranks, tightened the formation and without another word, took off at a slow pace until everyone was in step, then they sped up. Faster and faster until the formation started to lose cohesion. Terry and Char ran around the group, “encouraging” the members to keep up.

  The colonel stopped the run and had the Force members do wind sprints up a small hill, walk back down, and then run up again. Char and Terry paced them, staying just in front.

  Ivan puked, so they ran more laps.

  Then they dropped into push-up position where they stayed, backs straight, abs straining.

  “Feel the burn!” Terry yelled joyously. Char shook her head. He was enjoying the pain far too much.

  “Up!” he commanded, and the Force jumped to their feet, huffing and puffing.

  “Shut your pie holes!” he growled. Mouths snapped closed and nostrils flared as they sucked wind.

  “Corporal James, front and center,” Terry ordered.

  James answered, “Yes, sir!” and jumped from his position at the head of second squad. Mark, standing at the front of first squad, with Jim right next to him, wondered what was coming. He didn’t want to lose his position as acting platoon sergeant, but he had yet to leave the town. He wanted to go on the next venture, see what was out there, and get a chance to prove his mettle.

  James assumed the position of attention in front of Terry. James’s chest heaved as he worked to recover his composure.

  “Describe for the platoon how the attack from the raiders unfolded, how undisciplined troops are no match for well-trained warriors,” Terry told him, waving his finger in a circle for James to face the platoon.

  James spun in place and faced the entirety of the Force de Guerre. “At ease!” he commanded, and then started walking back and forth, just like Terry did.

  Imitation and flattery. Terry stood by and waited.

  �
�The raiders. We didn’t think of them like that. They looked like security simply protecting their settlement. There were twelve of them, nine of us. Maybe that made them bolder, so they tried to grab the major. She killed three of them in the blink of an eye. They ran, but only to regroup.” He shifted and looked at the ground, figuring how to phrase what came next.

  “We pulled back, because it was clear they were going to do something. So we faked a retreat into a valley, split the squad, let them see one group running away while the rest of us set up on the flank. The group within the valley set up a defensive position behind a collapsed wall. During the night, the first group moved farther into the valley.”

  He looked at the platoon. They were all eyes. This was what they lived for—combat against a determined enemy. They leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the story.

  “They came at dawn, running in an inverted V formation, expecting to fire their old weapons en masse at the defenders. Before they reached the ruins, we opened up from their flank, killing three. They turned toward this new enemy, and that’s when the group at the end of the valley fired. Caught in a cross fire, none of the raiders took more than two more steps before they died. We fired forty-seven rounds to kill all of them but one. We returned him to his people, who were none too pleased that their sons and daughters couldn’t stand up to us.”

  James looked around. He hadn’t felt good about what happened in the caves. The people didn’t understand that the Force only wanted to help and that they were defending themselves. The people never gave the colonel an opportunity to talk with them.

  They attacked, and they died.

  Mark started cheering. “If someone wants to fight, let them bring the fight to us!”

  Terry smiled. His sentiments exactly. He put a hand on James’s shoulder. “Good job, son. Get back in formation now.”

  The corporal returned to his position at the head of his squad. The others joined Mark in cheering.