Terry was harder on himself than anyone else could ever be. He didn’t give others that kind of control over his life. He answered to himself alone.
Char continued the inspection while Terry fought his internal battle. When he came back to the present, he found that Char had moved two people down the row. He whispered a few kind words to Jim and then to Boris as he caught up with her.
She didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking about. He was putting these men in harm’s way and they were woefully underprepared. She was chewing on them enough to give them weeks of material to think about. When she finished with Blackbeard, whose weapon was completely unloaded, she had to ask. “No ammo, Private?”
“I was just given my weapon this afternoon, Major. The corporal said I have a few more lessons before I’d get ammunition. I don’t stand watch for four more days. I’ll be ready, ma’am!” he proclaimed.
“Now that is the smartest thing I’ve heard today!” she bellowed. A glint from the upstairs window showed Billy and Felicity both watching with great interest. Felicity waved to Terry, who didn’t acknowledge her.
“Weapons discipline is important in all situations. Blackbeard!” she called, even though he was standing in front of her. “Brief me on the guard plan.”
“Can I show you?” he asked. She nodded tersely.
He walked to the far corner and started his long explanation as to why that spot was the first point while the two men of the guard worked their post. One looking one way and one looking the other at all times, both looking in the direction that Marcus had last come from, the road that led to the mountains.
Blackie also beat on the metal triangle with a small bar, making it ring. Each guard would carry one at all times, ready to sound the alarm.
He walked them through the routine and then showed them the guard shack behind the mayor’s home. Char injected ideas here and there, but overall, she was satisfied with the plan and the squad’s understanding of it. She formed them up one last time. Clyde ran wild through the group and discipline failed as he encouraged them one by one to pet him.
Char turned to Terry. “You need to get your privates under control?” He started to laugh, but caught himself, unsure whether she was joking or not. She didn’t look like she was joking, but that shit was funny, especially while Clyde continued to wreak havoc.
“Clyde! Come here, boy,” Terry called, kneeling to draw the dog his way. Char resumed.
“Well done, Private Blackbeard,” she intoned, working not to roll her eyes at saying the name. “I like your plan. I like your engagement. I can’t tell you how important it is to always be on alert, day or night. They could come at any time.”
“They?” Mark asked.
“I meant he, he could come at any time, but who knows how many others are up there. Be ready for anything,” she replied, trying to cover her mistake. The men looked confused.
Terry stepped in. “We will leave a trail for him to follow. If he shows up, you are to tell him where we’ve gone. It is best if he follows us. We’re going north, then east along the South Platte River. There will be road signs and we’ll leave signs, too. Your mission is to get him out of this town. I think you will find that despite his size, he will be an exceptionally difficult target to shoot at. If you fire, you must be prepared to die, so I prefer that you get him to follow us. Talk to him first. He’ll know that Char has gone. Just tell him the truth. Any questions?”
No one had anything to say, even though Mark was curious as to why they wouldn’t be able to hit this mystery man.
* * *
When Marcus awoke, it was dark and he felt that most of his strength had returned. He returned to the bear for another meal, then settled in to wait, wondering when the pack would return with his mate. He’d give them until morning, then he’d go into town himself.
* * *
James had gone through the packs three times already. There wasn’t much, but Mrs. Grimes was a superhero in making sure they had the little that they did. Enough food for a couple days, if they rationed themselves.
He looked at the others, Devlin, Lacy, and Geronimo, an odd mix of people. James didn’t understand why he was picked over Mark, or Devlin instead of Jim. One was older and smarter and the other was stronger than all of James’s people combined.
They’d be on the road for a while. James hoped that he could pick the colonel’s brain, learn how he thought, get smarter at the things that Terry Henry Walton valued.
They had time to kill, so James decided he needed to get to know his people better.
“Devlin, tell us about yourself. Why are you here?”
“I grew up here, my whole life spent foraging in the woods, farming, and doing odd jobs. I don’t know, but Mark and John thought I could be useful, so they snagged me and Jim. Then there I was, one of the lawmakers. Our job was to intimidate people so they’d do as Billy told them. That was it. I hadn’t been doing that long before Terry Henry showed up. He killed John, right there in the dining room, and then he gave us a choice. Reform or join John. That was a pretty easy decision,” Devlin said, not looking at the others, feeling the shame of what he’d been before.
“What you were before doesn’t matter, Devlin. That was a stupid question on my part. Lacy, tell me what you like about the FDG. Why did you join?”
“Because I believe in people. I grew up here, too and saw the recent change in everyone, especially Billy Spires. If Billy could change like that, then there’s hope for us all. I want to be a part of making this world a better place. I believe in Terry Henry Walton and his vision for a new civilization. The people from Brownsville are the first of many to join us. I feel it in my bones!” Lacy offered with a smile.
She was young and wore her brown hair cropped tightly around her ears. She was short, stocky, and well-muscled. Like the other residents of New Boulder, she didn’t have any fat on her body, but she wasn’t starving. She had limited experience with horses, but she had grown up working in the power plant as a helper to the mechanic. She was born after the fall, and the mechanic looked after her once her parents passed. It was the least he could do for his niece.
James nodded and knew he’d talk with her later about the power plant. He was fascinated by it and wanted to know how the plant generated electricity.
“Tell us why you’re here, Geronimo.” James pointed to the small man.
“I finally have a chance to be somebody,” Geronimo said in a small voice.
“What do you mean by that?” James pushed.
“You knew me, recognized that I existed back in Brownsville, but no one else did. I was just a lackey, a nobody. I lived in the stables with the horses. They are my only friends.” He looked at the ground. James leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not any more, Geronimo. I’ll call you Gerry, because that’s what friends do, give each other nicknames. You can call me Corporal!” He stood and clapped his hands. “Gerry! Why don’t you select our six horses from the eight we have on hand and teach us a little about them? You are the expert, from what I understand.”
Gerry beamed with pride and led the group to the horses where his love for them was obvious. He gently stroked each and they followed him around like puppies.
The four members of the FDG groomed the horses, made sure they were fed, then went to bed early, because they needed to be ready for when the colonel and the major arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Terry and Char ate in silence while Margie Rose watched them.
“What’s wrong with you two? Did you get into a fight?” she asked. They both perked up instantly, in full denial.
“Come on, Margie Rose, you don’t think I’d rather be in a warm bed right here? We’re both bummed because we have to lead a bad man into the Wastelands, as far from here as possible.” Terry wiggled his eyebrows at the older woman, along with showing his most winning smile.
Clyde howled from somewhere outside. His attack on the biscuits had gotten him
banned from the house during meal time.
“TH and I are good, don’t you worry about that, Margie Rose. I mean really good,” she said suggestively. Margie Rose blushed and Char giggled.
“By the way, I have a huge favor to ask,” Terry started, his tone serious. “I’ve seen you wearing a silver necklace. Can I have that please?” He didn’t tell her what it was for as she would probably object.
“Wait right here, you two!” she beamed. Char looked at her plate and shook her head, then started to clean off the table. Terry joined her, checking on the pot to make sure they had hot water to do the dishes.
Margie Rose returned with two necklaces, both tarnished just enough to show they were made of silver. She handed them both over. He looked at them appreciatively. The old woman put her hands in the small of his back and propelled him toward Char.
He decided to play along. He held the necklace up to put it over Char’s head, but her eyes shot wide and she shook her head vigorously.
“Later, Margie Rose, when the time is right.” He had wondered if just touching silver was enough to cause a Werewolf pain. Judging by Char’s reaction, he would have hurt her had he put the necklace on, even gently so.
He pocketed the necklaces and gave Margie Rose a big hug and kiss on her forehead, before settling her on the couch, letting Clyde in, and returning to the kitchen to help Char with the dishes.
When they were done, they retired to Terry’s room, where Margie Rose had already moved Char’s meager belongings. By the light of a tallow candle, Terry uncoiled his bullwhip and carefully threaded the necklaces within the internal leather windings, closest to the tip where the bullwhip’s speed was the greatest. Using a needle and thread, he put a stitch through the dainty links of the chain and into the black leather of the whip.
He wouldn’t be able to test it until morning, when he had daylight to see if it would hold together. He wanted one extra weapon against Marcus.
He blew out the candle, stripped to his shorts, and wrestled with Clyde to get a spot in the bed. Char removed all her clothing and in the early darkness, changed into her Werewolf form. Clyde started barking until Terry could grab him and calm him down. Char put her front paws on the bed and sniffed both TH and Clyde.
Clyde bared his fangs and growled. Char returned the gesture and then snapped at his face. He yipped and crouched, starting to shake in fear. Terry let go and Clyde jumped down, crawling halfway under the bed.
TH stroked her head, scratching behind her ears. She leaned into his hand while her purple eyes, now three times their human size, looked at him. She bared her fangs and chuckled, at least he thought she was chuckling. He leaned down to see the light color on her chest.
“Silver belly fur,” he said to himself, feeling how soft it was. He moved to the side of the bed, running his hands down her sides. As a she-wolf, she was big, taller than Terry Henry, with a broad chest and long muzzle. Her tail had long hair that swished through the air as she wagged it. He walked behind her and ran his fingers through her tail hair. “You have a tail.”
She changed back into human form and glared at him for an instant before she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over herself.
“That’s what you have to work with,” she whispered. “That’s what will fight Marcus.”
“That was magnificent,” Terry whispered back. “You have a tail.”
“Of course I have a tail! I’m a fucking Werewolf,” she replied, then smiled. “You’re like twelve years old! How old are you, really?”
“Sixty-three,” Terry answered softly. She looked at him, frowning, purple eyes twinkling in the darkness.
“I’ve always liked younger men,” she said, then ended the banter and turned serious. “But none of that matters, TH, if we can’t stop him.”
“We’ll see what tomorrow brings,” he said as he rested his head on her bare chest. Her heart pounded a staccato into his ear. He lasted all of twenty seconds before his head started to sweat. He rolled to his side of the bed, throwing the covers off so he could cool off, wondering if he’d ever get used to the heat she projected.
Sleeping in the same bed with his wife had taken some getting used to, but he had liked it. It had been comforting to know that she was there, and it was just as comforting to have Char nearby, although for different reasons.
He had lost so much of himself when he hid in the mountains and wandered the Wastelands. He had condemned the old Terry Henry a million times over for his failures, for his inability to protect the ones he loved. Despite his outward appearance and drive, everything he did was for other people.
His bill was steep, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to pay it off. Until then, there was nothing he could want for himself, not even a beautiful Werewolf who kept him warm at night.
That was the story he told himself anyway.
* * *
The morning came early. Terry found himself underneath Clyde, who had finally decided to come out from under the bed. Char had an arm across his chest and he could swear he saw the skin starting to bubble.
It wasn’t bubbling, but it was red, and worse, it itched. “Everybody off!” TH bellowed into the false dawn. Clyde jumped up, missed the edge of the bed, and splattered on the floor. Char didn’t move except to open her eyes and glare at him. He quickly got out of bed to avoid getting punched, dressed in his uniform, and then lit the candle.
When he turned, Char was already dressed. He hadn’t heard a sound, but he was growing more accustomed to that. He let Clyde out and the dog ran downstairs, where Margie Rose started yelling at the beast, then yips where he was chased outside with the assistance of her broom or wooden spoon. TH and Char walked downstairs together and Margie Rose beamed at them both.
She really wanted grandchildren. Terry wasn’t going to be the one to break her heart, so he took Char’s hand and smiled pleasantly, exercising extreme self-discipline to keep from scratching his chest.
They thought they would leave before Margie Rose got up, but they both hugged her for the welcome surprise, though they had little time. They wolfed their breakfasts down, then hugged the old woman once more before bolting out the door, saddling the horses, and yelling for Clyde.
They rode quickly to the barracks in the cool of the dawn. When they arrived, there was no delay. James and the others were already in the saddle and waiting. Terry turned toward the mayor’s house to check in one last time before heading out of town.
They rode toward the mayor’s house and were appropriately challenged as they approached. “Halt, who goes there?” Even though Ivan could see who it was. Terry held up a hand for everyone to stop. Lacy was inexperienced with riding a horse and it took James grabbing the reins to stop the animal.
“Colonel Walton and his people,” Terry replied. Ivan approached and shook Terry’s hand and then Char’s.
“Nothing to report, Colonel,” Ivan said. David and Boris joined them, as did Mark. It was close to the changeover and although Ivan looked tired, he’d heard the group approach and had done the right thing.
“We’re heading out. Remember what I told you and send him after us. Do not try to engage unless you’re attacked first, then hit him with everything you have and keep pouring it on, even after you think he’s dead. Do you understand me?” They nodded, then saluted. It made Terry cringe to see it, but he’d only spent ten minutes teaching them.
It wasn’t up to his Marine Corps standard.
Terry collected himself and returned their salutes. “Carry out the plan of the day, Corporal,” he ordered as he turned his horse’s nose north, toward the power plant and beyond.
Terry kept his horse to a walk as he didn’t want the sound of its hooves to wake anyone up before the work day started.
“Anything, Char?” Terry asked, wondering if Marcus was close enough for her to sense. She shook her head, looking relieved.
Once they passed the power plant, he urged his horse into a trot. Terry and Char rode up front, each staying c
lose to the ditch on their side of the road, keeping the pavement between them. James and Lacy rode side by side as she couldn’t control her horse yet. He trained her as they rode.
Geronimo and Devlin rode in the back, staying wide apart like Terry and Char.
It became obvious quickly that Gerry was the best horseman of the bunch. He seemed one with his horse while the others barely managed to keep their mounts going in the desired direction. None of the horses seemed comfortable around Char and the others didn’t know why.
When they stopped at the end of their first long day, Terry would swear the group to secrecy, then tell them. He expected that their blind trust in him would help them internalize the news. He didn’t know what he’d do if someone flipped out and ran.
He hoped they wouldn’t, but he also knew that hope was a lousy plan. He needed a backup.
* * *
Marcus stretched his Werewolf body as the first light broke through the trees. He changed into human form and got dressed for his walk back into town.
Marcus had grown angry overnight because he couldn’t sense the others. He started to entertain the idea that the pack had abandoned him. His rage grew. It started with the humans. He never considered that his own actions drove the pack away.
“Don’t you ungrateful fucks have enough to eat? Have an alpha who protects you? You better hope that I don’t find you. I will fucking kill you all!” he yelled into the trees and the emptiness of his mountain. He stormed through the woods, through the new snow, heading downhill, always downhill.
New Boulder awaited him. He had business there that he would finish one way or another.
It was late morning by the time he made it to the rocky outcropping that overlooked the town. A small plume of steam rose from the power plant. He couldn’t see anything powered by the electricity, but expected that at night, the town would be lit up, almost like the old days. He missed those times.
Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 26
