Adams looked at the people in the field. He could sense their serenity. They didn’t know what was out there. Terry Henry Walton and Charumati had done their jobs well in keeping the people safe.
And it was Adams’ turn to man the invisible wall, keep the bad guys out. He stayed behind while the others flew away to find the danger where it would never affect those in North Chicago, because it was the right thing to do. Terry and his FDG, exporting justice to all parts of the known world.
For the good of all mankind, Adams thought. “I’ll take care of it, Billy. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
The alpha has directed it, and I won’t let her down.
***
China
The entrance to the mine was wide, constricted at the top by a movable wall built across the entrance with the single door. Inside, cart tracks, like those for a mini-railroad, led down the middle of the tunnel. Three carts were parked near the top—one was motorized to pull or push the other two. The wide tunnel led in a straight line as far as they could see.
Akio headed down with a purpose.
Char reached into the etheric. “They must be deep. I can’t sense anything,” she whispered.
Terry could see well enough in the near pitch-blackness. He could make out lights on the rock ceiling and mounted on the walls and wondered why they didn’t light them up.
“Can we turn on the lights?” he asked Char, unsure of what Akio would allow. He cursed himself for not asking.
He felt her shrug more than saw it.
“Fuck it. Darkness helps them, not us.” Terry found a switch on the wall and flipped it up. The lights came on, nearly blinding them as night turned into day.
The walls were smooth and covered in concrete, with extra support beams for the ceiling standing tall every ten feet. The mine had been built for the long-term.
Only the world’s worst day ever, the WWDE, took it out of service, not because they couldn’t mine it but because the market for their ore evaporated.
Terry wondered what equipment may have survived the devastating EMP. Being underground would have protected the electronics.
“We need to take any kind of circuit boards we find, chips, computers, that stuff,” Terry whispered.
Char shushed him, feeling exposed in the light and with the extra sounds that carried away into the tunnels. Terry sulked, but only for a moment. He didn’t know why he was so readily distracted by the mundane.
I’m the weak sister, he thought. Of everyone here, I’m the most vulnerable and I’ve already surrendered the battlefield to the others. They will fight and I’ll be digging around trying to find circuit boards. That chaps my ass!
Terry conceded that he was in a supporting role, but not so far removed that he wouldn’t see the enemy. He would fight, because Char was there. He would die for her. Get your head out of your ass, he warned himself.
They walked a quarter of a mile before they encountered the first side tunnels and had the first impressions that others were there.
Akio waited for them, squatting on his knees, looking like he was meditating. He stood upon their arrival. He signaled for Shonna and Merrit to go one way and Sue and Timmons to go another. He waved for the rest to follow him.
Clyde sniffed the intersection and marked one corner. Terry watched the dog, who had calmed when the lights came on. Clyde was unperturbed at the presence of a Weretiger, a Werebear, and a grizzly cub, especially since he was with Sue.
Terry felt bad that he hadn’t trained the dog as Sue had, but Clyde was a better dog because of her. She snapped her fingers, which echoed loudly. She cringed, but Clyde trotted after her and Timmons as they continued into the tunnel and disappeared around a bend.
In the other direction, Shonna and Merrit crouched before running ahead.
Char leaned close. “A small group of humans in that direction.” She pointed at the tunnel that Sue and Timmons had taken. “Two Weretigers that way. At least two.”
Terry pointed to Gene and motioned for him to follow Shonna and Merrit. Akio nodded and the great Werebear lumbered after them with Bogdan bouncing along behind.
Aaron stood serenely, sniffing the air.
Akio unsheathed his katana. It caught the light, reflecting it in a rainbow arc across the gray wall. Terry looked at his bullwhip, a silver chain sewn into the end toward the tip. He held a small knife with a silvered blade in his other hand.
He vowed to silver the blade of his cavalry sword. He felt unarmed compared to the others.
Akio moved ahead, continuing downward. He looked to be walking casually, but quickly outpaced Terry, Char, and Aaron.
“Three Forsaken and two Weretigers,” Char whispered as they hurried forward.
“Are they a threat to Akio?” Terry asked, angling toward the wall to flip yet another light switch.
Char shook her head while gripping her pistols more tightly.
Then the lights went out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Terry’s anxiety rose exponentially. Not because of the darkness or the enemy, but because he didn’t know the terrain and there didn’t seem to be a plan. It reminded him of the old days, when he first joined the Corps. The instructions from the recon team leaders had always been to keep up. That was it.
Keep up.
He hurried ahead, fingering the only tools that would make a difference. The darkness enveloped him. His enhanced eyes could hardly make out the difference between the wall and the tunnel, let alone anything else.
Terry felt the air pressure change slightly. He crouched and listened. A padded footfall. A snarl. And Char was thrown into him as something ran into her and knocked her off balance.
She rolled to the side and fired three times in rapid succession. Terry saw the Weretiger recoil with the impact of each bullet.
Terry lashed out with the whip, drawing a long red line across the creature’s back.
“Where are you, Aaron?” Terry called out. A snarl to his left gave him his answer.
Terry drew his arm back for a second crack of the whip, but the Weretiger was faster. It leapt at TH. Terry dropped his whip as he bent backwards and twisted, letting the Were pass over him. He rammed his knife into the creature’s side.
The Weretiger drove the claws of its back feet into Terry’s chest, gripping and ripping the flak jacket. Terry was pulled over, landing on his back with the beast’s back paws still entangled in his gear.
Terry grunted as it pushed off, trying to leap free, but it fell on its side. It raked one claw at the human, who barely warded it off with an arm. The claws tore flesh and muscle to the bone.
Terry cried out in pain.
Char landed on the creature’s head and wrapped an arm around its neck. She gripped her second arm and pulled tightly, cutting off the air as the creature twisted and thrashed. Terry punched upward, trying to pound the soft spot that all men carried on the outside.
When another furry creature landed on him, Terry thought he was done. A new front paw dug into his chest as Aaron slashed into the soft underbelly of his fellow Weretiger.
Blood and entrails splashed over Terry, who struggled to get out from under the fighting felines. The smell was overwhelming.
Char finally dragged the creature to the side and Terry rolled over. Aaron attacked in a frenzy, driving Char away.
Terry crawled to his feet, cradling his injured arm. He found a nearby light switch and flipped it. His nanocytes were hard at work repairing his arm, but the damage was extensive. It would be a while before his arm worked right again.
Char had a long claw mark down her back, leaving blood trails down her shirt and pants. Her wounds were also starting to close. She’d reacted quickly and kept the claws from digging too deeply.
She winced as she tried to straighten up.
“Where?” he asked her.
“Up ahead. Two Forsaken and two more Weretigers.”
“Two? Go, Akio!” Terry cheered while clenching his jaw from the pain in h
is arm.
The smell of the Weretiger remained as it fought valiantly but futilely against its superior enemy. They waited until Aaron was finished and retreated against the wall, cowering, almost as if embarrassed by his display of primal fury.
Terry pulled his sword and hacked with his one hand until the creature’s head came free. He wiped the sword on the magnificent Weretiger pelt, then used his silvered blade on the neck as a redundancy. He couldn’t have the Weretiger recover.
“It’s plenty dead, TH,” Char reassured him, but he was an old school adherent when it came to killing Werewolves, keeping the tradition and his superstitions alive, even though his wife had appropriately schooled him to a modern understanding.
She relaxed as the healing process repaired the injuries on her back and relieved her pain.
“What’s next?” Terry asked, grimacing as the nerves in his arm rebelled at the less-than-gentle caress from the nanocytes.
***
Timmons and Sue moved forward silently, while Clyde’s nails clicked on the tunnel floor. Ahead, a dim light signaled a side room dug out of the mountain where four humans were sitting around a single table.
The tunnel continued ahead, deep into the mountain, where faint sounds told them that more humans were somewhere in the distance.
Timmons and Sue pondered changing into Were form, but decided against it. With the training that Terry had provided, they felt they were better fighters in human form. They could always change into Werewolves if they needed to, if the humans in the room were capable of something unexpected.
The Werewolves waited outside the door while the two men and two women sat around the table, probably eating breakfast. Timmons counted down on his fingers—three, two, one. He slowly turned the knob and they burst into the room.
One man jumped, upsetting the table and sending dishes flying. The other three dove to the side and popped up with silvered swords unsheathed.
Timmons looked at Sue.
“Nice pig stickers,” Timmons said coldly.
One of the women answered, but in Chinese, a language that neither of the Werewolves spoke. They had no idea what she said, but the surprise and anger on her face suggested she hadn’t delivered a warm welcome. Clyde sniffed at furniture close by.
Timmons pulled his pistol from the waistband of his pants and took aim. Sue slowly wrapped her fingers around the butt of her pistol and slid it free.
Two of the humans in the room started shouting. Clyde had had enough and started barking at them, baring his fangs in anger.
One man charged and the sound of two pistols firing simultaneously was deafening. Two went down. The other two tried to run, but the shots were too close together. They barely made it a step before the nine millimeter slugs slammed into their bodies, followed by a second round in a classic double-tap.
None of the four moved. Carefully, Timmons and Sue picked up the four swords, sheathed them, and stuffed them between their packs and their bodies.
Clyde peed on one of the people. Neither Timmons nor Sue cared. Timmons left the room.
“Come on, Clyde. Let’s see what the others are up to,” Sue called as she held the door for her dog.
***
Gene caught up to Shonna and Merrit as they jogged forward. He made so much noise as his nails scraped the concrete floor that they picked up their pace. The Weretigers ahead had to know they were coming, by their senses and from the sound.
There would be no surprise. Bogdan slowed as he sniffed the air, tasting the scent of the great cats.
Shonna and Merrit stopped. They both removed small knives and their pistols. Gene almost ran into them, sliding to a stop, and snuffled as he cocked his head, looking at them and wondering why they hadn’t kept going.
They started moving again, striding confidently forward. Ahead, the Weretigers paced and waited for the interlopers.
There would be no conversation, just a battle for supremacy of the underground. Werewolves, Werebear, or Weretigers.
Gene’s great brown muzzle forced its way between Shonna and Merrit. He pushed them aside as he surged ahead, adrenaline firing his soul.
If he could have spoken, he would have denigrated the entire lineage of the Weretigers, paying particular attention to the recessive genes that led to the abominations before them.
When they found the chamber from which numerous smaller tunnels led, the Weretigers were ready. These two were huge, about half Gene’s size, which made them twice as large as Aaron.
Shonna and Merrit breathed deeply and considered for only a moment, then they stripped and changed. They were more deadly as Werewolves, especially facing the Weretigers.
Gene stood and roared. Bogdan followed suit. Gene tottered on his back legs and then ambled forward, staying on two feet to keep his front claws before him. He remembered well his fight with the polar bear, knowing that the Weretigers were deadlier. He looked back, caught sight of the two Werewolves, and tipped his head to the right.
They didn’t understand if that meant he was going right or they were to go right.
They bounded behind him as he charged in between the two Weretigers, then dodged right at the last instant. They met him with a feline snarl. He didn’t bother roaring. A low guttural growl escaped his throat as he sought purchase on the tiger’s body with his claws, to pull his enemy close, overwhelm it with his size, and bite it to death.
He left the other Were to Merrit and Shonna, but Gene had made his move too quickly and the Werewolves’ response came too slowly.
The second Weretiger landed on Gene’s back, digging four sets of long claws into the heavy meat of the Werebear’s body. He screamed in pain while grasping the Weretiger before him and dragging it into a tighter embrace.
They jousted muzzles, each seeking a hold on the other. Gene was incensed.
Two Werewolves ripped the Weretiger from Gene’s back, their jaws clamped tightly on the shoulder and haunch. The three tumbled to the floor together.
Gene felt the weight lift from his back as his nanocytes went to work. He powered forward with his back legs, driving the Weretiger off balance. It scrambled to get leverage, twisting and turning as it went down under the bulky Werebear. Gene clamped his jaws on the cat’s throat and bit down.
Long claws tore into his midsection as the cat braced his back against the floor. It continued to twists its neck, attempting to get free, while ripping and shredding with its hind legs.
The polar bear had hurt him, but he had dragged that creature into the icy water and drowned it. He didn’t have that trick here. His guts were on fire and he struggled to maintain his grip on the Weretiger. He dropped onto the creature. Its claws tore deeper into his midsection until they were past the fur, fat, and muscle.
The great cat tore his insides up. With one great gasp, Gene gave all he had to his bite, finally breaking the Weretiger’s neck. The Werebear rolled to the side, pulling away from the claws dug too deeply within his body.
Bogdan jumped on the beast and ferociously tore into it.
On the other side of the chamber, a battle just as deadly was being waged.
***
North Chicago
Blevin knew that silver was important in dealing with special folk, like Forsaken. There had been no silver within Cheyenne Mountain. The Vampires had removed all of it—wedding rings, necklaces, even fillings from teeth if there was a hint of silver.
But Chief Foxtail came through for the defenders of North Chicago. His people carried a wealth of sterling silver. When the chief presented the need to his people, they donated their jewelry and accoutrements.
First Sergeant Blevin took it all solemnly and swore that it would be put to good use.
The motor pool consolidated their people and built a small oven where they could smelt the silver and then dip various items into it.
Blevin took every third bullet from the belt of the fifty cal and carefully dipped the tips, then wiped them to leave a thin gleam of silver, enough tha
t it would not affect the aerodynamics of the bullet.
Knives were coated and finally, pistol bullets. All of those filling the role of lake watch were armed with pistols. They had emptied the armory, but they considered the immediate need more pressing than maintaining a reserve supply of weapons and ammunition.
Adams was feeling good about himself when he approached Anne and asked where he could mount the fifty cal on the sailboat.
That was when she lost her shit.
“You will under no circumstance put that monster on my sailboat!” she declared, shaking her fist at Adams. He looked at her oddly.
“You’re willing to fight me to prove that you don’t want to fight?” Adams asked. She looked at her fist, unclenched it, and shoved her hand in her pocket.
“No. I run a fishing boat. I won’t sail it if you put that cannon on board.” She pulled her hand from her pocket so she could cross her arms and show fierce determination on her face.
“Fair enough,” Adams said. He knew that as an alternative, he’d carry his pistol with two magazines loaded with nothing but silver-tipped bullets. He would wear a loose shirt to cover the pistol because Anne couldn’t know.
He respected her position, but he had a mission, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
China
Shonna was slammed into the wall as the cat gyrated wildly. She lost her grip, but used her freedom to find a more vulnerable spot.
Merrit hung on, kicking his four paws to maintain his leverage, but more importantly, to keep the Weretiger off balance.
With its torn shoulder free of Werewolf, the cat twisted around and sunk its front claws into Merrit’s back.
This gave Shonna the opening she needed. She came at its exposed throat like an eagle diving onto a rabbit. She caught the soft part of the creature’s throat and ripped out a bite-sized hunk. The Weretiger gurgled as it tried to scream in agony.
Merrit hung on as it let go of him and sought to retaliate against its new attacker. Merrit turned and dragged the Weretiger backwards, flipping it onto its side.
Nomad's Justice: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 6) Page 17
