Nomad's Justice

by Craig Martelle

  “They didn’t bother the people in the fields who didn’t give those guys a second look,” James reported, when he had his breath back and was able to stand up straight. “Maybe it was a hunting party, I don’t know. No one seemed to be under anyone’s boot. They are just fine, so I guess you’re right, Heitzy. We’ll hunker down until nightfall and then get the fuck out of here.”

  ***

  The first rifle report got everyone’s attention. Then the firefight began in earnest.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  North Chicago

  When Mark returned to the lakeshore in the morning with a hot drink that passed for coffee, he found Ivan on the ground, head on a rock, and sound asleep. Mark looked at the lake in the light of the false dawn.

  The waves gently lapped the shore. He was instantly tired, but shook himself, then kicked Ivan’s foot.

  The other man yawned and stretched. “I closed my eyes just for a moment. What time is it?”

  “Morning,” Mark said, getting angrier by the moment, but he wasn’t mad at Ivan. He was angry with himself for not setting up a proper watch.

  “Damn!” Ivan said, standing up and stretching some more. “Is that for me? Thanks!”

  He seemed indifferent to the fact that he slept through his watch.

  “We won’t put this all on you from now on. You can’t be sleeping on watch, Ivan.” Mark stomped his feet as he walked back and forth, destroying the serenity of the morning. “Fuck, man! The colonel would kill you if he knew. He’d kill both of us. You left us vulnerable, you ass!”

  “Come on, Mark, you’re damaging my calm. I’m not sure the last time I slept like that. I feel like a rutting buck!” Ivan smiled and then pounded his chest with his fists.

  “Dammit, Ivan. Just keep watch until I can set something up. Stay awake until I get back.” Mark looked over his shoulder at the lake, watching for any signs of movement. He looked north and south and didn’t see anything. He shook his head and decided that he’d keep his miscue a secret.

  Grumbling to himself, he walked briskly toward the barracks.

  ***

  Queens, New York

  “Come on, Gene, they’re in trouble!” Terry yelled as he jumped through the hole in the wall and hit the sidewalk running. Gene plowed through the hole after Terry and hit the pavement hard. He was up to speed in no time.

  ***

  “Come on!” Char yelled, vaulting over an old dresser and bounding up the stairs three at a time. Jim didn’t question the order; he simply followed. Eldie was still upstairs and she yelled at him, too.

  She raced out the front door where she met Terry in the street. He nodded, but didn’t slow down.

  The five ran toward the sound of gunfire.

  Terry waved at them to spread out, present less of a target than moving as a mob.

  “Hey!” Sergeant James yelled at them from a second story window.

  Terry slowed to a walk, then stopped. The firing continued from up ahead, beyond the fields. He was momentarily confused. He’d thought Sergeant James and his team had been engaged, but the FDG warriors were secure.

  “Well, fuck,” Terry said, running for the cover of the building. Char and Gene took two steps and stopped.

  “No fucking way,” Gene bellowed in his heavy Russian accent.

  “You guys holed up in an outhouse?” Terry called to James.

  “We’re coming down,” James said.

  No one argued with him. One by one, the four men descended as the fire escape loudly complained. They jumped to the ground and ran out front to meet the colonel and the others.

  Then the screaming started. They watched as the armed men backed into the fields, firing at an unseen target beyond them. Incoming rounds tore at the ground; two people fell before the rest turned to flee in panic.

  The workers started streaming toward them.

  “Firing positions, Sergeant to my right, set up a line abreast. Everyone else, follow me.” Terry ran to the left, picking a small rise to lay behind. The three with rifles pulled a second magazine to place within reach, and waited. Char unholstered both her pistols and lay next to Terry, reaching out with her senses.

  “I count forty inbound,” she said calmly.

  The sophisticated man calmly walked his men backward, while keeping them in order and directing their fire at the targets coming toward them.

  Gene tore off his clothes and changed form, growling and running farther to the left, seeking the shelter of trees.

  The armed men’s fire became more sporadic as they ran low on ammunition. Starting with more than twenty, they were down to twelve men. Fear gripped them and they would have panicked had it not been for the older man who remained stalwart throughout. There was a break in the firing, and the older man ordered the others to run.

  They turned and darted down the street, back toward the brownstone.

  A howling mob broke from the trees, running through the fields and carelessly tearing things up as they passed. Their eyes focused only on their enemy.

  Terry didn’t know which group was better, but he had to pick a side because they were right in the middle of it. He appreciated the discipline of the sophisticated man and decided that was someone he could work with. That made his decision for him.

  He waited as the mob ran into the kill zone, the place where his three tactical teams were aimed and ready to catch the enemy in a crossfire.

  “Grenades,” he ordered softly. His three people had already loaded them. They moved their hands to the triggers on the grenade launchers and chose their targets to bracket the enemy.

  “Fire,” he said, sending the first grenade into the front rank. The high explosive detonated, spraying killing shrapnel through the ranks and stopping the charge cold. The next two rounds landed in the middle of the screaming mass.

  “FIRE!” Terry bellowed, and every member of the FDG opened up, rapidly firing well aimed shots. The attack was broken in seconds, and the survivors turned to flee, but found themselves face to face with a raging Werebear.

  Gene tore into their ranks with unnatural speed, slashing as he went.

  “CEASE FIRE!” Terry ordered and the friendly fire stopped. A couple weapons from the mob discharged, but it had to be in panic. Gene was wreaking havoc on the tightly packed enemy, dropping them like bowling pins.

  Terry jumped from his hiding place and ran toward Gene. Char bolted after him.

  “There’s a few playing possum,” she yelled, which slowed him down.

  Terry would heal from a gunshot wound, but it would hurt like hell and there was no rush. He waited for Char, taking the time to check the position of his people. He checked their lines of fire, moved to the side, and gave them the thumbs up.

  Terry slung his rifle, pulled his .45, and looked over the barrel as he cautiously moved forward. He shifted left and right, watching for any movement. Char was at his side, both pistols out and ready.

  “There,” she whispered, pointing with her pistol.

  Terry dashed in, zigzagging and then stepping on the man’s weapon. Terry grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and pulled him upright, tearing his hands from his rifle.

  He was short and had oriental facial features. Terry looked quickly at the faces of the fallen and saw similarities.

  The man looked defiant. Char fired her pistol and a man gasped and grunted. She continued her search, stepping carefully through the mass of torn flesh.

  “A fucking gang war?” Terry exclaimed, disgusted. The man tried an arm bar and then a punch to the abs, but Terry easily blocked the moves. He punched the smaller man in the side of the head, expecting to get the man’s attention.

  He spat in Terry’s face. Terry growled, animal-like, before picking the man up, spinning around, and launching him through the air. Forty feet later, the man slammed into the ground and rolled toward Gene. The man jumped up and tried a spinning roundhouse kick to the Werebear’s face.

  The man impaled his leg on Gene’s claws as
the Werebear blocked the kick with an attack of his own. With his other paw, Gene slashed upward and disemboweled the man.

  His screams didn’t last long.

  Terry heard the man’s death cries and with guilty pleasure, he smiled. There was nothing he hated more than getting spit on.

  Char fired again. “That’s it for the sleepers,” she declared.

  Terry put his hands on his hips. “That’s it? No one left to question?”

  Char pointed a finger to her ear. Terry listened and heard the moaning of the wounded. She winked at him.

  Gene stood on his back legs and roared. Terry jumped. “Thanks for that. Now you want to be all big and scary.” Terry looked at the Werebear and felt comfortable joking with him.

  Are you my friend? he wondered about the crass Werebear, thinking about those he’d served in combat with, those he’d entrusted with his life.

  Gene was one of those men.

  “Establish a perimeter and secure the area!” Terry ordered, taking control of the FDG’s tactical teams. Six warriors ran to various points, found cover, and aimed their weapons away from the kill zone. Terry, Char, and Gene remained within the circle. Terry and Char paid attention to the dead and wounded as they tried to figure out what was going on.

  “Halt!” Sergeant James yelled. Gene roared anew.

  Terry turned and crouched. The sophisticated man and his soldiers had returned.

  ***

  North Chicago

  Billy and Adams walked onto the dock while Anne and Alex cleaned the boat and prepared it for the day of fishing.

  “I brought you a new hand,” Billy started.

  “Sorry. I have my crew. There’s no more space,” she said without looking up.

  “Adams did a lot of work to get this boat ready. Maybe you shouldn’t dismiss him like that,” Billy said, displeased with her initial response. He was proud of himself for not dropping the F bomb on her.

  She looked up, but shook her head. “I’m not sure…”

  “This isn’t a request, Anne. Adams has special skills and with you being the town’s eyes and ears…” Billy said, while Adams shifted uncomfortably. “We need someone like him on board. And you know he can sail the ship. He’s already sailed on it.”

  “Billy Spires, you bastard!” she yelled, eyes on fire and shaking her fist. “You’re trying to replace me because I’m a woman.”

  Alex stumbled the length of the boat, trying to get to his wife and calm her down.

  “You can stop that bullshit right there! I don’t care that you’re a woman, and I’m not trying to replace you. Ted and Terry Henry picked you for your skill. That’s the reason you’re captain and the reason you’ll remain the captain, so fuck you, and fuck you, too!” Billy flipped the bird to both Anne and Alex before storming off.

  Adams was unsure of whether to get on the boat or not. Anne stood there with her arms crossed and tapped her foot.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I don’t want your job,” Adams replied defensively.

  “Good enough,” she answered. “Come on now, get in here and get to work. Help us scrub this deck.”

  Alex pulled Adams to the side. “Somebody made a comment in Claire’s Diner that the fish wasn’t very good, and she’s still pretty mad about that.”

  Adams stepped back. “It wasn’t me!” he exclaimed.

  “The complainer spoke for all men,” Alex clarified.

  “No, he didn’t!”

  “Not to you and me, he didn’t. Sometimes, we paint with too broad a brush and sometimes, when a person does great things time and again, others grow to expect that. That’s a high bar to live up to,” Alex said in a low voice. He clapped Adams on the back. “Time to get to work. The others should be along shortly and we have some fish to catch.”

  Adams joined Anne and got on his knees to scrub. “You are doing a fabulous job, Anne. Even if I wanted to be the captain, I couldn’t out-captain you, and I wouldn’t deserve it.”

  She looked at him, then at her husband, and smiled.

  “Billy’s still a bastard,” she said softly as she returned to her scrubbing.

  “But not today, Anne,” Adams replied, just as softly.

  ***

  Kiwidinok sat tall in the saddle of a horse that hadn’t been ridden since that fateful day it split its hoof, the day she realized that she loved Geronimo as much as she loved the animals.

  The hoof had grown out and with a special shoe that one of her fellow villagers had crafted, the horse was mobile without threatening further damage.

  Kiwi pulled two horses behind her to swap out with those that Pepe and Maria maintained.

  She tugged on the leads as she nudged her horse forward. Kiwi knew the way to the farm, having gone there a number of times already to help them with their horses and harnesses.

  The foodstuffs that Pepe and Maria traded for were so vital that Kiwi determined they needed to maintain fresh horses. The two farmers didn’t know what to say, how such a young girl could wield so much influence, but wield it she did. She had the full confidence of the council and was even one of its members.

  She was the horse master and partner of an FDG warrior. Kiwi carried her own sword, a blade that she took from her dead enemy on the day they first arrived in North Chicago. She carried it with pride, for she was a warrior too.

  The horse responded well after having not been ridden for so long. Kiwi headed out, taking the well-traveled streets. The way was clear, with most debris moved to the sides to make it easier for the carts to pass. The neighborhood was mostly quiet, but the occasional bang or clang from something loose on the derelict houses could be unnerving. She still cast glances left and right at the myriad of odd noises that seemed to fill that neighborhood.

  It was there that the crazies had been hiding. She shivered, even though she had her sword and the horses. She didn’t know why she was concerned.

  She approached the wolf pack, stopped her horse, and climbed down to greet them. They’d become friendly with the humans because of Ted. They wagged their tails as she approached. She took a knee and they came to her to get their ears scratched. They closed in tightly around her. One of them dug a piece of jerky out of her pocket and ran off, getting chased by two others.

  Kiwi mounted again and was relieved when the pack accompanied her. She looked around carefully for Metaguas as a sign that death was near, but he was nowhere to be found, and for that, she was thankful.

  She let her horse trot, carefully putting more stress on the hoof. They cleared the residential area and continued into the open, where Jumbo could be seen far away, dragging a wide plow through a newly recovered field.

  The wolf pack followed her for a long time, playing as they ran, before darting into the woods close to the farm. She watched them go, as Pepe waved and started walking toward her.

  With great wolf growls and screams of pain, Kiwi was galvanized into action. She vaulted from her horse and unsheathed her sword as she ran.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  New York City

  “Thank you for the help, friend,” the man said flatly while his twelve soldiers aimed their rifles at Terry and the others.

  “Do friends aim their weapons at each other?” Terry asked, seeing that half his people were aiming back.

  “Do friends appear in the middle of your town, fully armed, and ready to fight a war?” the man replied.

  “I’m Terry Henry Walton,” Terry said, taking a few steps forward.

  The sophisticated man took one step toward Terry.

  Gene stood on his back feet and roared. One of the soldiers fired and hit the Werebear in the chest.

  Char’s pistol flashed upward and she squeezed the trigger. The soldier dropped where he was when her bullet tore through his eyeball and into his brain. She dropped her arm as quickly. For those not watching, they would have never known where the shot came from. For those who did see it, they wouldn’t believe it.

  “HOLD!” Terry
screamed, raising his hands and trying to make eye contact, but each side watched the other, riveted.

  The New York City leader looked at his men and shook his head. Only half remained from when they started the day.

  “Put your weapons down,” he ordered calmly. The men complied immediately, although their body language suggested they didn’t want to. “My name is Eddie Jones. You’re the ones who killed my old boss, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Terry watched the man closely for tells, signs that he was trying to deceive them, but there weren’t any, no inflection in his voice, no twitches near his mouth, nothing from his eyes, and his body stayed relaxed.

  Terry walked up to the man and held out his hand. Eddie looked at it for a moment, then shook it firmly, but not with anything resembling TH’s strength. Eddie wasn’t enhanced.

  Char joined them, staring at the man as if looking into his soul. He turned to her and was taken aback at her striking beauty.

  Eddie found himself at a disadvantage.

  Finally, Terry saw through the outer shell of confidence. Eddie had always been the best, until he met the Forsaken where he’d been pressed into service. Thanks to Akio, he had been given his freedom back.

  Once again, he found that he wasn’t the best.

  “What was this all about?” Terry asked, seeing the workers reappearing in the street behind Eddie’s soldiers.

  “Queens was taken over recently by an Asian gang. They’re trying to horn in on our territory. We can’t allow that.” Eddie waved at the people to get back to work.

  “How many people are around here?” Char asked.

  “Fewer and fewer, every time you show up,” Eddie said, holding his hands up, palms out as he pointed out the obvious—the pile of bodies behind them.

  “It’s not what we wanted,” Terry explained. He sighed before continuing. “There are too few humans left to be doing this. You couldn’t let this gang take over, just like we couldn’t let your boss take over. Unfortunately, some good people got in the way.”

  “That’s not quite true, Terry Henry Walton. The good people got out of the way.” Eddie pulled his collar down and showed that there were no marks on his neck. He hadn’t been bitten by the Forsaken. “I should thank you for that. Now we can start being human again.”