They rode in silence. Char looked a hot mess, but she wasn’t injured. Clyde ran along between Terry and Char. The straggly mutt was a short hair, white with brown spots and big, hound ears. He dug through his memory and thought that the dog looked like an oversized coonhound. He bellowed like one, as they had found out when the mutt first saw Char.
The dog assumed its rightful place in its new pack’s pecking order. It was appropriately submissive to the Werewolf. He wondered how Char felt about having a dog. Judging by the look on her face, she was not pleased at all.
For Terry, that meant Clyde was his new best friend.
“We need to get you cleaned up before we see Billy. They don’t need to see you like this,” Terry said, wondering where they’d get clothes.
“I’m fine, just give me that blanket.” Char pointed to one tied to the saddle on the horse he rode. Char’s horse bucked and whinnied while she was near it, but it settled down as they continued to ride. None of the animals liked Werewolves.
Go figure.
With the blanket wrapped around her, Terry declared it good enough and they rode to the mayor’s house, where they found Billy Spires looking out an upstairs window, his rifle conspicuously aimed their way. When he was certain who it was, Billy disappeared inside, soon reappearing through the front door with both Ivan and Felicity close on his heels.
“Raiders,” Terry started. “Nine total. Three got away and we’ll be going after them soon, once these horses have rested and recovered.” Terry climbed down and pointed to the weapons. “We secured four functioning AK-47s and about a thousand rounds of ammo. I’d like to keep these for my people and the M4 for me.”
Billy nodded, but his eyes were locked on Char with a look of horror.
Terry stepped in front of Billy, to block his sight. “None of that blood is hers. She killed four of them herself. Her clothes suffered, but none of them touched her. She distracted them, and that gave us the edge,” Terry told him, then turned to Felicity. “Could you find something for her to wear, something that’s not torn and covered in blood? Please, Felicity?” Terry looked her in the eyes, pleading.
She relented, nodding reluctantly, then waved at Char to follow her into the house. The men watched the two go, unable to help themselves.
When the door closed, Terry, Billy, and the others turned their attention to the engagement. Terry walked him through the entire two minutes in nauseating detail. Billy wanted to know more, specifically where the men came from and how Terry was going to keep them from returning.
“We’ll find them. I promise that we’ll hunt them down and convince the big man that not returning is in his best interest,” Terry stated firmly.
“How are you going to do that? From what you described, I expect the only thing he’ll think about is to come back here. For Christ’s sake, Terry, you stole his dog!”
“I can be very persuasive and as for Clyde, he chose us over Sawyer Brown. I didn’t steal anything. Clyde! You go home,” Terry ordered, looking at the mutt, furrowing his brow. The dog wagged its tail, slowly at first, then faster as it jumped forward and stood on its back legs, front paws on Terry’s chest as he tried to lick the man’s face. “Stop it, Clyde!” Terry pushed the dog down and scratched behind his ears. He stood next to his new human, leaning heavily against his leg.
Billy laughed. “I think he wasn’t as loyal to Sawyer Brown as he thought. Let me have those two M16s. Maybe ten rounds of ammunition?”
Terry looked at what he’d collected from his people. He carried a total of twenty-seven of the 5.56mm. “Ten sounds fine. We’ll be able to overwhelm anyone with all the 7.62 we recovered. I’ll play sniper—one shot, one kill,” Terry offered.
He walked away to be by himself, leaving Devlin with the horses, Billy and Ivan with the extra rifles. Terry looked at the mountains and breathed in the hot, dry air. He tasted the wildflowers that grew readily in the new world. Clyde followed him as he walked around what used to be a neighborhood. Only a couple houses were standing. The engineer lived in one and the mechanic in another. Billy kept his key people close.
They were the future. And they went about their job, not knowing how close they were to being on the business end of one of Sawyer Brown’s pistols.
Terry thought about the engagement for the fiftieth time. He’d replay it over and over in his head until something replaced it. He couldn’t help himself, because he was his own harshest critic. Without Char, they would have failed. He would have died, and the town would have fallen to a foul creature and his eight men.
Easy as that. But Char had joined them and had fought like the devil incarnate. Was Terry lucky or good? He couldn’t shake the thought that it was luck.
He also had to admit that he could trust her. She fought on behalf of the town. Had she wanted, she could have stayed in Werewolf form and killed all nine men by herself and then the entirety of the FDG, small as it was.
Then, when it was all over, she deferred to Terry.
He wasn’t sure he’d been wrong about her, but for the meantime, he’d call a truce. She had earned the benefit of the doubt. “What do you think, Clyde? I’m not sure Margie Rose allows dogs in the house. We’re going to have to talk her into it, so you need to be on your best behavior. Do you get me, Private Clyde?” Terry said in his Marine voice. The dog thought they were playing and bolted for the nearest stick, returning with a chunk of old two by four.
Terry relieved him of it and threw it as far as he could down the road. Clyde raced after it, the sounds of his nails on the broken pavement mixed with birds singing in the distance. At that one moment in time, everything was right with the world.
* * *
“Those people didn’t deserve that,” Mark told Jim as they looked around the area. They found the trail where the couple’s bodies had been dragged and then dumped in a ditch where the coyotes had already paid them a visit. The cabin was smoldering, nothing left of it but ash. Jim found an old shovel head with the handle mostly burned away. He got on his knees to use the shovel head to cover the bodies with dirt, giving them a more decent burial than what the raiders had given them.
When they were finished, they rode the horses slowly toward the barracks. Terry told them to water and feed the new additions to the FDG. They were mobile and both of the men appreciated not having to walk, so taking care of the mounts took on a new level of importance.
Although they suspected that Terry Henry Walton would continue to run them into the ground, since he considered physical fitness to be a critical element to the thinking warrior.
* * *
When Char left the house, she was a completely changed person. She wore Billy’s last pair of jeans and a button down shirt that was tied at the waist with the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was braided in a way that highlighted the silver streak. She also wore a limited amount of makeup. Felicity hugged her as she sent Char on her way. Billy watched from an upstairs window, knowing better than to get caught ogling.
Ah, the old days, when I simply took what I wanted. I kind of miss those, he thought, but then decided that if she could kill four armed men with her bare hands, she had secrets that maybe he didn’t want to explore. Terry seemed completely unafraid, but by their accounts, Terry and Char faced nine men alone.
Billy couldn’t fathom that.
Char saw Terry raise his eyebrows. “Shut up,” she bitched. “I kind of had no choice once Felicity got started. You don’t want to make her angry, and I’m sure Miss Margie Rose will appreciate the effort, so here I am.” She shrugged.
“Devlin!” Terry called. “You and Ivan take two horses to your place. Make sure they get plenty of water and all the grass they can eat. They need it. I’ll be by the barracks tomorrow to hear what Mark and Jim found.” Terry slapped the young man on the back, gave a thumbs up to Ivan, and mounted his horse. Char climbed on hers and they rode west, slowly, each to their own thoughts. Clyde ran along happily beside them.
When they arrived home, Terry an
d Char hobbled the horses and turned them loose in the closest thing they had to a pasture, a large open field behind the house. It had more weeds than grass, but that was all the horses were going to get. Terry hand-pumped water into a tub and left that out back for the animals to use as they wished. When they went inside, Clyde didn’t hesitate and ran inside with them.
“What was that ruckus I heard earlier, sounded like gunfire. Hey! What is that coyote doing in here? Shoo!” Margie Rose yelled as she reached for her broom. She chased after him, which he thought was great fun until Terry intercepted the older woman and asked her to sit down so he could tell her how Clyde came to join them.
Terry deposited Margie Rose on the couch as he turned a dining room chair around to sit on it backwards. Char sat next to Margie Rose, who suddenly noticed the hair and makeup. All thoughts of Clyde were relegated to the back seat. The dog whimpered until Char invited him next to her where he laid on the couch against his alpha, happy to have such a position in his new pack.
TH told the story, leaving out the parts of who killed whom, but assuring Margie Rose that she was safe. The older woman felt no fear with her Mr. Walton around.
Terry should have known.
It was late afternoon by the time Margie Rose started cooking dinner. She chased the other three outside to keep the horses from eating what flowers there were around her property. Terry and Char found that they were too late. The horses were clipping everything off right above the dirt, just like a goat would.
“I say we don’t tell her,” Terry suggested. Char nodded as Clyde helped them chase the horses farther from the house. They headed toward the small scrub where Terry had gotten the first couple rabbits, just in case something new appeared. As they approached, Clyde growled and dashed into the brush. There was furious barking and a real coyote was flushed out the other side with Clyde close on his tail. The coyote made a loop, outpacing the bigger dog as it headed for the two humans. Char glared at the thing and it yipped as if it had been shot, then bolted away as fast as its legs would carry it.
“Clyde!” Terry yelled to distract the dog from the fruitless chase.
With tongue lolling, he happily returned to his pack. “If there were any more rabbits in there, they are gone now. Damn coyotes. If I only had more ammunition, I’d clean those things out,” Terry said absentmindedly, looking into the distance where the coyote had disappeared. Char shrugged, indifferent to the presence of coyotes. She knew that she could chase them away with just a look.
They returned to the house and after a quick wrestling match with their new furry friend, decided that he needed to stay outside while they prepared dinner and ate. He seemed to be perfectly happy ripping anything from the pan while it was cooking. As he tried to get at their dinner while it cooked on the small wood stove, Margie Rose smacked him right on his nose with her ever-present wooden spoon, and then Terry dragged the hungry beast out the front door, promising him that he’d get the leftovers. Clyde remained on the porch, waiting to come back inside.
“Let me get this straight, you show up and you’re here for a few weeks, then she shows up and almost immediately a group of armed men arrive to take over the town. Tell me how the problem isn’t you two?” she asked, half-kidding.
“Because we would die to protect you, Margie Rose. You won’t ever have to live through a visit from the boys or anything like that again. The wastelands are calming down enough that people are able to grow what they need, find game, and venture out. That’s the big difference, nothing else,” Terry soothed.
He believed what he was saying. The world had settled into a new normal and people like Billy Spires were dragging the world toward a new civilization. Electrical power! Raw materials and factories. The sky was the limit.
“You’re going to see a whole new world, Margie Rose, one that you’re proud to be a part of,” Char added, almost as if reading Terry’s mind.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After three days of riding with his mind encased in a dark fog, Sawyer and his men entered the small town they called their own. Sawyer Brown slid from his mount and walked into his small home, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to sleep in his own bed and do it for an extended period of time.
He was happy that Terry Henry Walton didn’t follow. He was in no shape to fight, no matter how much he tried to will himself into the mood. The other men had had enough riding double as well, but Sawyer didn’t care about their discomfort.
The young man grabbed Sawyer’s horse and didn’t try to ask him about the trip. The other two men shook their heads. Jagoff drew a line across his throat with one finger. They’d wait to talk until the boss was out for the night. Which didn’t take long. He was snoring inside five minutes.
In a low, conspiratorial voice, the man known as Jagoff told the others how they were ambushed by demons from Hell. How their enemy ripped the still-beating hearts from their brothers. How a stunning woman with purple eyes bested Sawyer Brown in a straight up fight in less than two seconds. Their men died quickly and even the boss fled from the battle before he joined the others in death.
Jagoff had three days to improve his tale, even growing more animated with its telling. The others in the town that Sawyer called Brownsville were fascinated, eyes widening in fear. At the end, Jagoff told them that they were going back, all of them, to face the military man and the demon woman. He told them to make peace with their makers because when they next went north, none of them would return.
Jagoff believed the last part. He knew that the boss couldn’t protect any of them. He couldn’t even protect himself.
* * *
Terry stood in front of the barracks with his arms crossed. They’d left the horses to graze so they could continue their return to health, so he and Char had just run the distance from Margie Rose’s house to the barracks. He wasn’t pleased that it was taking so long for the horses. He wanted to get on the road, get after Sawyer Brown. The longer they delayed the colder the trail would get.
His people came running out as soon as Mrs. Grimes made them aware that Terry was waiting.
“Well?” Terry yelled, looking at the window where the old lady waved cordially.
“It’s fine, dear,” she said, but Terry wasn’t having it.
“Well?” Terry repeated, this time to the four men now standing at attention. Mark shrugged. “DISHES!”
They bolted out of formation and inside, where Mrs. Grimes yelled at them to take care. Char giggled through it all.
“What are you laughing at?” he prodded.
“You. You have them jumping, but you’re just a big pussycat,” she whispered. Terry didn’t understand why she was talking so low. The men inside were making enough noise, they couldn’t have heard an internal combustion engine. “You shouldn’t be able to hear me, but you can. Why is that?” she asked.
“Good genes. My parents were physical specimens, in the best of health. Maybe my body is made better, but it doesn’t make me better,” he replied, whispering as well. “And your excuse?”
“The same. Good family, that’s all,” she answered, her purple eyes twinkling. Terry let it go. Now wasn’t the time.
Three minutes later, the four men were back outside. No one was out of breath, but they were wet. Terry walked toward the house. Mrs. Grimes waved him away. He ignored her and tried to get inside, but she blocked his way with her body. He looked over her head where he saw the table cleared and the dishes done, but there was a small lake in the kitchen that was working its way into the adjoining dining area.
“You go! Keep those brutes out of here for the next fifteen minutes. I shudder to think what this place will look like if you make them help me with that!” She pushed Terry with her small hands. She may as well have tried to move one of the Rocky Mountains.
“As you wish, Mrs. Grimes, but they shouldn’t leave the house like this. You’re not their slave,” Terry told her.
“It’s a hundred times better than it used to be,” the old wom
an said with a smile, putting her hand on his arm gently, as a grandmother would do. “I enjoy being here. Thank you, Mr. Walton. And if it’s not too much trouble, tell those goons to bring something to eat when they return home. We’re getting low.”
“Capital idea, Mrs. Grimes. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about beer. It’s time. Today is the day!” Terry proclaimed, loud enough for all to hear.
“That’s not what I was thinking of…” Her voice trailed off as Terry closed the door and returned to the small formation.
“First, we break down the rifles. Fifteen seconds to take them apart and forty-five seconds to put them back together. Get ready!” The men dropped to their knees and spread out a cleaning rag that they now kept with them at all times, for that very purpose. “Go!” Terry counted out loud because there were very few working watches anymore. Who knew the right time or date in order to set one?
When Terry counted to fifteen, the rifles were apart, except for Ivan’s. He took two more seconds to finish. Terry pulled his bullwhip in a flash and cracked it over their heads. “What the fuck, Ivan?” Terry yelled. The man knew better than to argue. “Now put them back together on my mark. Mark.” And the men put the pieces back in place, one by one, ending with snapping the upper receiver group into the lower. Even Ivan finished on time. Only Char noticed that Terry slowed his count down. She rolled her eyes at him.
The men didn’t ask why she wasn’t training with a weapon because it wasn’t their place to ask. Terry was comfortable not giving her a weapon. If things got that bad, then she could change into a Werewolf and save herself.
“One more time!” Terry yelled. Four iterations later, he nodded to Char with his eyebrows raised. He didn’t have to slow down the count. The men were getting better. “Sling arms and next stop, the greenhouses!” The team formed, and Terry took off running with Clyde close by, easily keeping pace.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 12
