Nomad's Justice: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 6)

by Craig Martelle

  Or as the major suspected, he was a big kid and liked bigger toys. Mark had watched the colonel kill the buffalo with the machinegun on the dune buggy. Admittedly, they needed the food, but the colonel looked too happy afterward.

  Mark suspected that Char was right.

  They formed the platoon and with Jim carrying the massive pry bar, they route-marched carefully up the tracks to remove anything blocking the way before they switched the tracks back and forth to make sure they were ready for Ted and Gene when they were driving the train.

  ***

  “Could this be any heavier?” Adams whined, bent over as he tried to brace himself between an I-beam and a bank of piping.

  “What the hell are you bitching about?” Merrit grumbled through gritted teeth, holding the far end of the pipe over his head like Mister Universe.

  They both wore huge padded gloves to provide insulation from the electricity in the electric welder that Timmons had rigged up.

  Shonna dangled from a rack above as they eased the pipe into place. She wrapped it with chains and used shims to line one pipe into the other. On the opposite end, Timmons was doing the same thing to get the pipe into the best position where they could tack weld it into place, then finish the welding at a more leisurely pace once the piping was where it needed to be.

  “Lift it a little higher…that’s too high…back it off a little…too far, give me a little…” Timmons guided with his head resting on the pipe to best aim one pipe at the other.

  The lights went out, plunging the Waukegan plant into darkness. The four Werewolves could still see, but Timmons was not amused.

  “What did those two goofy bastards do now? They had one fucking job!” Timmons yelled as he fought with the pipe. Shonna grunted from the other end as Adams and Merrit struggled to remain still.

  “I’m pretty sure that I’d love to trade places with them right about now,” Adams mumbled.

  “Was that an explosion?” Timmons asked.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Shonna answered.

  “Neither did I,” Timmons said sarcastically. “So whatever happened, it wasn’t that bad and they’re probably not dead. Shame.” Timmons was furious. He’d been in the small plant the day before and Ted was keeping it immaculate. Timmons couldn’t think of any reason why the plant would stop producing power.

  “This will have to be good enough for now since we can’t weld without power. I think a trip to the other plant is in order, don’t you?” Timmons asked Shonna.

  Adams and Merrit whole-heartedly agreed as the only thing they wanted was to not be there for round two of lifting the heavy-ass pipe. Even with their Werewolf strength, the strain was immense. That was why the humans weren’t anywhere near.

  Merrit tightened his clamps and checked the chain one last time. Shonna made sure she was clear and nodded.

  “Easy now when you let go,” Merrit said softly, watching the pipe to see how it would shift. As Merrit slowly bent to get from under the pipe, it settled about an inch lower than what Timmons was hoping for.

  “Those two better have a good reason, otherwise, we may be dining on bear this evening,” Timmons snarled.

  He climbed down while Shonna executed a smooth backflip from her perch and landed cleanly on the catwalk.

  There was no need for conversation as they stormed past Adams and Merrit on their way to the other power plant. They disappeared down the steps. Adams looked at Merrit as they both massaged aching muscles.

  “I think I’d like to take up fishing,” Adams said casually.

  “I’ll take up anything that doesn’t involve carrying the Golden Gate Bridge on my back.”

  ***

  Mark looked from his position at the first switch. He had spread the platoon along the route, although he wasn’t sure what they could do. He knew Ted would expect the warriors to be standing by ready to respond at a moment’s notice. In some things, Ted had infinite patience—in others, none at all.

  Mark saw a movement on the tracks in the opposite direction from which the train would be coming. His first thought was his people were goofing around, but most of them were sitting down. It didn’t take long before he realized it was the two engineers, Shonna and Merrit.

  Judging by the way they were walking, they didn’t look happy. The warriors popped to attention as the warrant officers passed. Mark was disappointed that the two didn’t acknowledge the members of the FDG, but as they got close, the looks on their faces told him not to be contentious.

  The Were folk stopped next to Mark. “Let me guess. Ted and Gene are moving the train.” Timmons wasn’t looking at Mark but at the smoke billowing from the old engine’s stack.

  The train’s whistle split the air.

  Timmons started running toward the engine after the first screech of the locomotive’s drive wheels slipping on the track.

  Mark stayed where he was, wishing he had popcorn to eat while watching the fireworks. Jim leaned on the pry bar and waited.

  ***

  Ted cheered as the drive engaged and the wheels caught hold. The cars behind them clanked and banged as they shifted on the tracks and started to move. One of the wheels squealed mercilessly from a lack of grease. Bogdan and the wolf pack disappeared into the brush after hearing the ear-piercing scream from the tortured hub.

  The train slowly picked up speed, and Ted leaned out the window as he yanked on the chain to sound the whistle.

  “Why we bring all cars?” Gene shouted.

  “Because we can,” Ted replied, smiling with the rumble of the locomotive.

  “Not good reason,” Gene answered. “You stop now. I unhook cars.”

  Gene emphasized his point by slapping Ted on the back, slamming him into the window frame. Ted eased the engine back and pulled on the brake. When it stopped, Gene hopped off and ran to the back to unhook the tanker cars trailing behind the Mini Cooper.

  Timmons and Shonna continued running toward the old engine, watching as Gene jumped off and ran.

  “See!” Timmons yelled, “they know they’re in trouble. Don’t let him get away!”

  They sped up, but before they arrived, Gene lumbered back and climbed the small ladder to the engine.

  “STOP!” Timmons bellowed as he vaulted to the platform behind the engine. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Ted looked at him, exasperated with the inane question. He huffed and explained, all the while wondering where Timmons’s sense had gone. “We are moving the Mini Cooper to the plant. Wasn’t that obvious?”

  “I see that, chucklehead. What are you doing away from your duty station?” Timmons clarified.

  “It’s running fine, so we’re taking the opportunity to move the reactor, get it ready. So much work left to do. It needs to be in place and tied in for everything else to work.” Ted made to start the engine moving again, but Timmons stopped him.

  “No, Ted, it’s not running fine. We lost power about ten minutes ago and it’s all your fault!” Timmons glared.

  “Oh, my,” Ted exclaimed, closing his eyes and running through a diagnostic in his head, wondering how the stable system had failed. He couldn’t see an obvious answer, shrugged, and turned to Timmons. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to move this baby to its new home.”

  Gene smiled like he’d just won the lottery. “Nice train, eh? Nice Cooper reactor, too. That real power.” Gene laughed while nodding.

  Timmons turned to Shonna. “I don’t know which one of them is worse,” he said in surrender, climbing off the engine and watching the old locomotive drive slowly away, pulling the modular reactor up the tracks.

  Ted sounded the train’s whistle again, announcing to the whole world that the wheels of progress were turning.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Terry and Char stood in the open area between the barracks and the chow hall, watching a small parade of workers carrying food supplies from the horse-drawn carts.

  Pepe wiped his
brow. He’d just returned from a short trip up north where the trading was going well.

  It took the edge off for the moment.

  Pepe, Maria, and the other farmers calculated that they’d need five hundred to a thousand cultivated acres to provide for the town. They begged for manpower each and every day.

  Billy was two-arms deep in helping to carry the latest trade goods. Terry felt bad, so he handed the baby to Aaron. Terry and Char added their arms to the manual labor crew.

  The mayor was doing everything he could, short of mandating shifts in the field to join the shifts that people were already working in the chow hall.

  When the latest supplies were in the kitchen’s store room, Claire Weathers stalked up to the mayor.

  “When is my freezer going to be running?” she asked pointedly, shaking a wooden spoon.

  “I miss the good ol’ days when there was only one of them with my number,” Terry complained to Char.

  Terry hadn’t remembered Claire carrying a wooden spoon before. He assumed she was picking up bad habits from Mrs. Grimes and Margie Rose.

  “You bring it on yourself,” Char answered matter-of-factly, squeezing Terry’s hand affectionately, before letting go so she could caress his backside.

  “How so?” Terry said defensively, while leaning into Char’s hand.

  “Beer.” Char put her hands on her hips and stepped away from her husband. “You and your damn beer. I can’t believe you’ve asked for wheat for your beer as part of a minimal food supply!”

  Char giggled and shook her head.

  “I like beer,” Terry said softly as he nuzzled his wife. Since the baby had been born, love and passion had gripped them tightly and held them warmly. The sleepless nights were only partially because of an active baby, and Terry wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Pepe waited patiently until the lovers returned their attention to the outside world.

  “Sorry, my man, I was distracted thinking about beer,” Terry apologized.

  “Is that what it was?” Pepe replied in a quiet voice, trying not to smile. “I wondered if you could help me with volunteers who want to learn about farming and become farmers. We need people to work the fields. It’s hard work, but rewarding when you see plump and crisp vegetables.”

  “You don’t have to sell me, Pepe. I’ll put in a word here and there. Plus, the platoon is no stranger to hard work. We will fill gaps as you need. The town is counting on all of us. And I will give you extra time if we can get a small bit of that wheat for my personal use, if you know what I mean,” Terry whispered conspiratorially.

  “Terry Henry! It is better than that. Our trading partners up north, in Wisconsin…” Pepe let that linger as if it was supposed to ring a bell. Terry’s blank expression told Pepe that it had not. “They have hops.”

  Terry dove at the man, grabbed him in a bear hug, picked him up, and spun him around. Maria gave them space. She didn’t know what kind of trouble her husband was getting into with Terry, but she preferred to stay clear.

  “You will run the Future Farmers of America, Pepe, even if they are a bunch of older people. And hops. You have made my day!” Terry angled in to give the man another hug, but Pepe held him off. Char pulled her husband away, then stopped, her eyes unfocused as she sensed something.

  “What is it?” Terry asked, even though he knew that she would tell him in her own time. Sometimes, he was the worst at waiting, especially when it came to things that Char could sense and he could not.

  “An attack,” she said, pointing to the west.

  “An attack?” Terry was incredulous. They had people scattered in an arc, far to the west for the hunting parties and circling around to the north where the local farmers had their fields.

  “A Were, leading a pack of some sort, and a Forsaken.”

  “Where in the fuck did a Forsaken come from? Joseph didn’t say anything about another one in this area. Son of a bitch!”

  “Not far away. We have to hurry,” Char told him as she turned and started to walk away.

  Terry looked around, seeing only older people and children. “Billy, take our kids. Char, run to the plant and get the others, bring the platoon back to set up a defensive position here. Aaron and I will hold them until you return. Were speed, Char,” Terry encouraged her.

  Char sprinted away and once out of sight of the others, she tore her clothes off and changed into a Werewolf with a sleek brown pelt and silver belly fur.

  She leapt over a fence and ran like the wind up the road, two miles to the old power plant. She passed the train as they were using the multiple tracks to switch the engine from pulling the Mini Cooper to pushing it.

  Ted planned to push the reactor into place then drive the train back and move the tanker cars to a place where they could pump the fuel oil they contained into the pipeline to feed their small plant on the base.

  When Ted and Gene saw Char running toward them, they knew something was wrong. She snapped at them and then continued on.

  They both reached out and when they saw the Forsaken and his mob, Gene jumped from the back of the old steam engine and changed into a Werebear. He stood on his back legs and roared, hoping Bogdan would hear and come to him.

  Ted was torn, but took his clothes off once he saw that Char had the others in Werewolf form already. She led the pack up the road at breakneck speed. Ted changed into a small, shaggy gray Werewolf and leapt over Gene’s head to run through the brush and up the bank to the road where Char and the others were flying by. Gene tore the brush up as he passed.

  He was fast for his size, but couldn’t keep up with a Werewolf pack running all out. Gene still made a good showing by not falling too far behind.

  Terry kissed all three kids on the forehead before Felicity and Billy hurried them into the dining facility to help get dinner ready. Everyone else cleared the area in a hurry.

  “You and me, Aaron,” Terry said. Aaron started jogging toward the edge of the base.

  “We have to hurry,” Aaron said, sounding like Char. Aaron changed, shrugged out of his clothes, and the orange and black-striped Weretiger emerged. Aaron padded ahead quickly with Terry close on his heels.

  They made it through the fence and to the roadway just in time to see a menagerie of creatures and wagons.

  An elephant pulled a large covered wagon. A large man, the Were, tugged on the chain leashes for a pack of wild boars. A pack of dogs skittered around the cart while a bull was pulled behind.

  “Ho, friend, if we might have a word,” Terry called out. The man driving the wagon hopped out and ran to the front, tapping on the elephant’s trunk with a large stick to get the beast to stop.

  Aaron screamed in the way of the big cats. Terry put a hand on his furry head and the Weretiger settled into an angry snarl. The lumbering of a Werebear alerted Terry that reinforcements had arrived.

  Since Char had run past Mark in Were form, she didn’t tell him what Terry wanted. When the sergeant saw the Werewolves run past heading back toward the base, he rallied the platoon and ran as fast as he could get everyone to run. They had their rifles and two extra magazines as they always did, but no other equipment. It would have to be enough.

  He saw the Werewolves heading into a fight and he wasn’t letting them get into it alone. The platoon ran up the parallel tracks and took up a position between the newcomers and the base.

  Almost as if Terry had planned it that way.

  Sue’s light pelt flashed through brush, as she ran between the platoon’s warriors, and joined the others. Clyde brayed as he ran among the platoon members, getting himself shooed away, until he caught sight of the hogs, letting them know of his dismay by getting close and barking and growling.

  The pack was there and waiting. Ted’s wolf pack lingered behind them. Gene rumbled up and worked his way to the front. He would have kept going if Terry hadn’t stopped him.

  “We’d like to have a word with your master,” Terry said, icicles hanging from his words as he stared d
own the Were holding the wild boars.

  “He can’t be bothered by the likes of you,” the rough Were sneered, feeding out a few links of chain and letting the boar herd surge ahead, pawing at the ground and flashing their dirty, misshapen tusks.

  The driver did his best not to draw attention to himself. He stood stock still, holding his stick against the massive creature’s truck.

  “My name is Terry Henry Walton and it’s my responsibility to keep the people here safe. I won’t have to protect them from you, will I?” Terry asked, stepping past Gene as he slowly approached the elephant.

  “Who has to protect who?” the man laughed. Terry didn’t care what kind of Were the man was, Terry wasn’t intimidated by him.

  “What’s your name, pig master?” Terry taunted the man.

  “Pig master! I like that title. You can call me Harold.” The man curled his lip as he looked from one face to the next. “Maybe we kill you first, tough guy.”

  Terry looked over his shoulder at the pack, then back at the man holding the boars as if they were a pack of attack dogs. Terry pointed to his own chest. “You mean me?” he asked incredulously.

  Aaron showed his fangs and cat-screamed again. Clyde barked at Aaron, only once, to let him know that he wasn’t a fan of cats.

  Harold looked at those he faced—seven Werewolves, a Werebear, and a Weretiger—and decided they were too formidable for a lone Werewolf to handle.

  “Maybe we just relax until nightfall, then we can have a good conversation?” the rough-looking man offered.

  You’re not a daywalker, are you? Terry thought and felt the chill of fear sweep over him. And you’re not asleep, either.

  Terry summoned the fury, the adrenaline he needed to fight the mind games that the Forsaken could play.

  Harold stopped smiling when he saw the faint red glow in Terry’s eyes.

  “If that elephant moves, you’ll be dead before it finishes its first step,” he told the lone human without looking at him.

  “Sergeant! Bring two fire teams here, on the double. Looks like we’re having pork for dinner.” Terry angled away from the elephant to get a better look at the tactical situation.