Or two.
So they put him on bed rest, which he didn’t understand right away, until Mark explained it to him. Mrs. Grimes agreed to take care of him and Terry committed to sending extra food home with the boys, but they were going to be gone for a while.
Terry told them to grab their travel bags. They had simple bags that they slung over one shoulder. They carried water and a little hard bread, a thin blanket, an extra shirt, and pair of socks.
Terry carried his knives, his new bullwhip that he took from John, and that was it. He looked forward to the time when he’d have a rifle and a pistol again. He hoped that time would come soon. He felt almost invincible when packing firepower.
They headed west on the main trail heading out of town toward the mountains. Terry hoped to pick up the hunter’s track and trail him into the hills. He was afraid at what he’d find, not the body of a hunter, but the Werewolves. He’d barely escaped with his life last time, and they weren’t even hunting him. He knew better than to cross Weres and would stay as far away from them as he could. Dragging the two delinquents would make that more difficult, but they needed an indoctrination on what it meant to work for him.
He laughed to himself as he walked briskly. Devlin was keeping up, but Mark was panting heavily and falling back. “Get up here!” Terry growled at the man, barely turning his head to acknowledge Mark’s transgression of discipline and self-motivation. To Mark’s credit, he jogged to catch back up, and then skip-ran every few steps to stay even with the other two. After a mile of that, Terry slowed his pace, then called a halt so he could let his men rest. They had not yet reached the end of the road, but he needed to concentrate and he couldn’t have the heavy breathing of his boys draw the wolves. Or their clumsiness in the woods.
“Truth time, gentlemen,” Terry opened as a way of getting their attention. They drank sparingly of their water and ate some bread, while giving him the rest of their focus. “There are creatures in these mountains beyond anything you’ve ever encountered before. Have you ever heard of Werewolves?” He expected them to nod, but they didn’t. They shrugged. He realized that they were in their mid to late-twenties, just children during the fall. They grew up without knowing movies, or reading books.
“Can you read?” he asked suddenly. Mark nodded while Devlin shook his head. That made things clear. He added that to his mental to-do list. They needed a school. Civilization would rise because of education. The future generations would have to lead the way ahead, because not everyone would be there forever. Not everyone was a vampire or a Were creature.
If humanity stood a chance, it was through a return to a modern civilization.
“Werewolves are creatures of supernatural power. No human can stand up to one, not even a human with a rifle. We go up there, find the hunter, and then we get the hell out. No sightseeing, no loitering. The longer we’re there, the more we risk drawing attention to ourselves. I think they’ve migrated into this area, and nothing good will come of it. So, gentlemen, I need you to move like a light breeze, make no noise, disturb no undergrowth. Do you think you could do that for me?” Terry didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. The two men simply looked at him.
He was asking too much. “Do you two want to go back?”
“No!” Devlin said adamantly. Mark hung his head.
“I don’t want you to think I’m a pussy, but reality says, I don’t know dick about moving quietly in the brush.” He nodded at Devlin, “And neither does Mr. Gung Ho here. We’d be a liability if what you think is up there happens to be waiting. Sure, if you got yourself killed, I wouldn’t shed a tear for you, but we all know that your best chance is by going alone,” Mark said calmly, holding Terry with his gaze as he spoke.
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since I’ve known you,” Terry replied. “And you’re right. You two head back, but what I want you to do is go to one of the greenhouses and help them. Learn something about farming and get your hands dirty. You could blow me off, expecting that I won’t return, but what if I do? What do you think I’ll do to you when I find out? And you know I’m going to check, because you’re going to take me, tomorrow morning after I’ve come to collect you. I promised Miss Margie Rose that I would meet her for breakfast and by God, I keep my promises.” Terry smacked his hand with his fist, physically driving home his point. He looked at both men for an instant, turned, and started running down the road. To Mark and Devlin, it seemed like he was sprinting, but Terry knew that he could maintain that world-class pace for a long time.
The nanocytes in his blood helped him, enough to heighten his abilities and tweak his senses. He always felt strong because of them, but knew that there was so much more. Vampires and Werewolves would laugh at him and tear him apart without breaking a sweat.
Terry continued. Fear would do him no good. He found the hunter’s trail easily and followed it uphill.
* * *
Marcus was tired of fighting with Char. When he dragged himself out of the cabin, he found the pack males had gone. He was mad already and this made him angrier. They would be the target of his ire. He sniffed the air and reached out with his senses, feeling that they weren’t nearby. He changed to his Werewolf form and sniffed the ground, finding their scent and racing after them.
His anger built as he ran, and he started to growl. The cool air of the late-morning July sun did nothing to douse the fire that burned within him. He flew between the trees, massive paws barely touching the ground as they drove him onward.
He found them there, secreted away between a copse of pine and mass of jumbled stone. With a mighty leap, he cleared a great boulder and landed in the middle of the man forms. He bared his fangs and growled at each and every one of them. When he locked eyed with Simmons, the guilt on his face was obvious.
He stood on his hind legs and towered over Simmons in his human form. Marcus dropped, his muzzle heading for Simmons neck and at the last instant, he clamped his fangs into the man’s shoulder, letting his bodyweight drive the Were creature to the ground. Marcus bit hard enough to rip the skin, penetrate the muscle, and scrape the bone.
Simmons yelled in pain and immediately changed into his Werewolf form.
A challenge! Marcus only wanted to send a message to Simmons and the rest, but this was even better. A good fight would tamp the coals of his fury.
Simmons struggled beneath the great shaggy beast. Marcus let go when Simmons changed, but he hovered and once he stood astride the Werewolf, he attacked with renewed vigor, biting into Simmons’ ear and shaking his head to rip a chunk of it free.
Simmons kicked furiously as he sought purchase from beneath the pack’s alpha. The fire from Marcus’ bite burned his entire head, but he continued to twist until he got his back legs beneath him and pushed for all he was worth.
Marcus rolled away with a piece of Simmons’ ear in his mouth. He spit it away, and they started to circle each other, but only briefly. Marcus was bigger and used his size to his advantage. He bull-rushed the smaller Werewolf, driving him toward the rocks. At the last instant, Simmons vaulted straight in the air and kicked off the rock face behind him, launching himself over Marcus’ head. Simmons twisted as he passed and caught the bigger Werewolf’s tail in his mouth.
When he hit the ground, he hauled backwards, trying to throw Marcus off balance. The bigger beast was more agile than Simmons gave him credit for. He twisted his body around and with tail in his mouth, Simmons couldn’t react fast enough as Marcus’ jaws slid past his muzzle and took hold of Simmons’ neck.
It was all over except for the thrashing. As Marcus’ fangs dug deep into Simmons’ throat, he had not yet decided whether to let him live or not. As the smaller Werewolf flopped and went limp, completely surrendering to his fate, Marcus let him go. Simmons lay on the ground, whimpering. He changed back to human form and once the others received Marcus’ approval, they moved him to a spot where he could sit and start to heal himself. They’d been eating well recently, so Simmons h
ad the energy. All he needed was time.
“So, you bitches thought you’d plot behind my back. Well, fuck you. And you, and you, too,” he told them from his human form. He stood naked before them all, his clothes outside the cabin where he’d left them when he last transformed. And he didn’t care. He had to make a statement. There could only be one alpha, and that was Marcus.
“Your bullshit ends right here. If I say we move a thousand miles, we move a thousand miles. If I say you hunt and bring food back to the cabins, you do that. Do you limp dicks understand that? You’ll eat what I tell you to eat, and you’ll do what I tell you to do. Go get an elk and bring it back. I’m hungry. Now get the fuck out of my sight,” Marcus commanded as he turned and walked back toward the cabin. It would be a long walk in his human form, but he was satisfied with the outcome and no longer twisted with rage. He’d stroll and think about what the pack needed to do next.
* * *
Felicity smiled adoringly at each farmer, hanging from Billy’s arm as they traveled from one greenhouse to the next. Billy had his speech set and he even smiled. It grated on his soul.
At first, but then he realized that the victories from confrontation that had been fuel for so many years held no such thrill for him anymore. Confrontation just made him angry. All he wanted was the people to do what they were supposed to do. Many had chosen their own professions, but others had been forced into their jobs, like the idiots he had keeping the people in line.
He wondered if that Walton guy would make good on his promises. The hunter. If he could find him, that would be a good first step. It’d be nice to have someone intelligent to talk with. He’d had too many lackeys over the years, telling him what he wanted to hear, then groveling when things went bad. Felicity showed him that it was better to hear the truth. At least that way he could fix it before it broke, before it could no longer be repaired.
So he smiled and thanked the farmers, then started asking them if there was anything they needed, noticing that there seemed to be more work than they could do. Like a miracle, Mark and Devlin showed up and did just that. They offered their services to the farmers and their greenhouse. The farmers looked at Billy Spires with reverence.
Billy always did what he said he’d do, but usually that was because of threats. More benevolent and less dictator. It made him feel funny, but in a good way.
When they were outside, Felicity pulled him close to her. “Why, Billy dear, I do believe you’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you act more natural. Shave off that tough guy exterior and we have a big, helpful, teddy bear. I think you are going to be surprised with what these people provide when they are working for you instead of working in fear.”
Billy smacked his lips, imagining the taste a fresh tomato, eating it like an apple, with a little salt. It had been a while since they’d willingly shared the best of their harvest.
“Weekly trips, to gauge progress of course, and help them as we can,” Billy said, looking into the distance. The wind rustled his hair as he squinted under the noon sun. He let his hand drift down Felicity’s back and he cupped her butt. Could he be in charge without using a hammer?
The concept was foreign to him, but he was seeing it start to work. He was able to manipulate the people in a way where they liked it. He’d keep his eye on things, but hoped the approach would work. He didn’t think his new security chief would beat people into submission if Billy ordered such a thing.
He stood there thinking and Felicity let him, watching him closely to see his mind work.
It was the first big step in a long line of steps that would ultimately lead to her riding in a vehicle. She really hated walking everywhere, but then again, that kept her shapely, which was what put her in this position in the first place.
* * *
Terry climbed higher and higher, until he thought he’d breached ten thousand feet. He followed the hunter’s tracks easily until the other man had found deer tracks. Then the horse was tied to a tree, where it must have freed itself since and run off.
The hunter had stalked more warily, but Terry still found his trail easy to follow. He saw where the man stopped and waited, then rushed off. Terry looked around the site carefully, watching for any movement, even though if the Weres showed up, he was screwed.
He stalked soundlessly, trying not to spook any wildlife. He felt like he was close and saw a scrape on a tree’s bark up ahead. He saw the spent casing, picked it up, and pocketed it. The hunter had run from the spot, but soon stopped, took a knee and fired again. Terry recovered that casing, too. There were drops of blood not far off. The hunter’s bullet had flown true and hit whatever was chasing him.
He smelled the body before he saw what was left of it.
Terry got past the site of what had been a frenzied, animalistic attack that had torn the man apart. But they’d left the rifle and ammunition. Terry knew that Weres didn’t eat humans, which made this bunch ten times more dangerous. They were different and not in a good way.
“Fuck,” Terry whispered as he dug through what was left of the clothes to recover unspent ammunition to go with the rifle. The man even had a small cleaning kit with him, which Terry appreciated, thanking the corpse for being a professional, then Terry bolted, moving as quickly as he dared to escape the kill site and the territory of the killer Weres.
He left the horse on its own, wishing it well in its freedom as he fled the area.
* * *
“I sense someone,” Adams said, but he was helping to half-carry Simmons. “Maybe we should check it out?”
The other two had gone off in search of elk, but they were heading higher up the mountain, away from the intruder. Simmons’ head lolled as he continued to trudge doggedly forward, leaning heavily on his friend, back toward their compound. “I’m in no shape to go after anyone and if you go, I don’t think I can make it back on my own,” Simmons mumbled.
“There’s something different about this one, I think. Ahh, there, he is retreating fast. Maybe we should broaden our reach, keep the humans from coming up here in the first place, but I don’t want to bring it up if Marcus didn’t sense him. Maybe we’ll offer it as a hypothetical,” Adams posed his random thoughts. Then he shrugged and continued dragging Simmons toward the cabins.
* * *
Terry cleared the hilltop and headed downward, flexing his knees to absorb the shock of running downhill. He ran faster and faster as the slope lessened.
Only Weres and Vampires made him afraid. They had power that he could barely comprehend. Distance was his friend and he ate up as much of it as he could. At least he had a rifle, but it hadn’t helped the hapless hunter. Still, he felt more comfortable carrying it. An AK-47, 5.56mm, but necked so it could take U.S.-standard 5.56mm ammunition along with its own, which did not fit into a NATO weapon. Had there been a ground war between the U.S. and Russia, that little advantage may have made a difference, but it didn’t because neither country existed anymore.
Once Terry hit the end of the road, he slowed, then dodged behind a wall and double-checked his rifle as he watched the hills behind him, waiting patiently to see if anything followed. After an hour, he was convinced that he’d left the hills alone. He slung the rifle and marched off smartly, covering the distance quickly with ground-eating strides.
He checked the position of the sun. “Damn! I might get home in time for some of Margie Rose’s fine cooking.” He looked around. “Shouldn’t come home empty-handed,” Terry said out loud. He looked at the rifle, decided now was as good a time as any to try it out, then turned south and ran hard, to get out of town and closer to a forested area that lay to the south.
Once there, he stopped and watched, checking the sun again. He might not make it in time, but expected Margie Rose would make something, especially if he brought home fresh game.
He waited, patiently. A movement. There!
A spike buck rubbing his young horns against the bark of a tree. Terry estimated the distance at thre
e hundred yards, a perfect distance for iron sights. He aimed just behind the shoulder and gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked lightly, blocking his vision of when the round hit home, but the deer jumped forward, head first into the tree, and struggled to get free.
Terry saw the spot below the spine. High and to the right. He aimed quickly in front of and below the shoulder then pulled the trigger a second time. The spike buck collapsed in place. Terry looked left and right, making sure the sound of his rifle hadn’t drawn unwanted attention. As he thought about it, he didn’t know why it would, but that was his Marine training and not his current situation. Wild animals would run from a rifle’s retort, not toward it.
He got up and jogged to his kill. A decent sized animal, he guessed it would be around one hundred pounds dressed. He strapped his rifle crossways over his back and pulled his knife to gut the buck and clean it enough to be carried to the house, maybe five miles away.
This has been a good damn day, he thought. He’d covered probably twenty-five miles and barely felt tired. He chalked it up to a good breakfast and his special physique. He and Margie Rose would eat well over the next few weeks. Terry also committed to taking some to Billy Spires, along with returning the rifle and the ammunition. He’d like to keep it, but a deal was a deal.
He started whistling as he methodically butchered the deer, caressing the soft hide, knowing that with a little time and some attention, he could tan it and make a nice shirt, maybe even a new pair of pants. He had no one to impress, he just wanted to be comfortable. His current gear was clean, but he’d had about enough of it.
After making quick work of the buck, he threw the headless carcass over his shoulders and started walking. Next stop, some of Margie Rose’s fine cooking.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 4
