Nomad Omnibus 01: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus)

by Craig Martelle

  He had wasted two years.

  He started to laugh, gulped from his jar of beer, and picked Char up to swing her around. Then he hugged Margie Rose from behind as she puttered at the stove. She almost forgot to wash the muffin pan because Clyde had licked it so clean.

  The house was in chaos, so that meant business as usual. It was good to be home.

  “We’ll be heading out again soon, Margie Rose,” Terry said, dampening the mood.

  Margie Rose hung her head for a second before recovering, her eyes glistened. “I guess my grandchildren can wait a little while longer, but not too long! I’m not getting any younger,” she cautioned them.

  Terry started to answer, but Char put her finger to her lips.

  “It will be our honor to give you grandchildren, and you better stick around for a while, Margie Rose. I don’t think I can look after the ten or fifteen of them by myself!” The old woman giggled anew as she mixed some things into a pan. Terry tried to look past her, see what his dinner would be, but Char slapped him again.

  He tucked his tail between his legs and joined Clyde on the couch.

  “Get that mongrel out of here. This dinner isn’t for him,” Margie Rose said. Char rested her head on the old woman’s shoulder and caressed her back.

  Terry pointed to Clyde and then pointed back at himself and raised an eyebrow. Char shrugged because she wasn’t sure which mongrel Margie Rose was talking about.

  Terry ruffled Clyde’s hair, “Come on, Clyde, let’s see if any rabbits found their way back into that brush pile out back,” Terry told his dog. They both got up, stretched, and slowly, almost defiantly, made their way to the front door. While never taking her eyes from her pan, Margie Rose shook her wooden spoon over her shoulder at them.

  Terry and Clyde bolted out the front door without further charades.

  ***

  “It’s nice to be back in some semblance of mountains. I think my fur will never be the same again,” Sue said, growing more vocal the further north they traveled.

  “Deer,” Timmons said noncommittally. The rest of the pack perked up, reaching out with their senses. It had been a while since they had more than they could eat. Timmons had once asked the question of whether Werewolves could get fat. He didn’t have to ask if they could lose weight. They were on the verge of starvation and they’d all grown lean in the past few weeks.

  Lean and not in a good way.

  “A herd,” Merrit added. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a good meal right about now.”

  “And a bath,” Xandrie said, wrinkling her nose.

  The pack dropped the ramshackle clothing they’d gathered and changed into Werewolf form. They looked straggly, like homeless dogs who’d been on the streets too long.

  But they were far harder than when they left, harder than when they ran under Marcus. The complaining had died away, mostly. Ted remained obsessed about an arrival date. He just wanted to know, but never gave his reasoning. He sulked more, but kept up during the daily marathons through the torturous heat.

  The promise of venison put a dangerous spring back into their wolf steps. They dashed off, spreading out into a large arc, centered on the herd of five deer. They approached, cautiously, not making a sound. The deer perked up. A breeze blew past one end of the arc, sending the scent of the predators wafting past the prey.

  They spooked and bolted in all directions. The Werewolves were galvanized into action and launched themselves after their selected targets. They mercilessly ran the deer down and killed them one by one, viciously, with almost insane fury.

  The deer died with barely a snort or buck. The Werewolves were hungry and they meant to eat. The killings weren’t ritualistic or prolonged. The pack dug in, sharing and cleaning the bones of all five deer. They ripped off the larger leg bones and carried them back to where they dropped their clothes, but they didn’t change back into human form. They gnawed on the leg bones, barely more than wild creatures as they cracked and chewed, licked the marrow, and reveled in being wolves.

  ***

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Terry said, arms resting on the top board of the enclosure. “You fucking knuckleheads brought a grizzly cub into town?”

  “Only one knucklehead, sir,” Mark replied and nodded toward Blackie, who was trying to get the bear to drink water from the bucket. The cub kept knocking the bucket over and was now covered with mud. He had yet to take a drink.

  “That’s right. You were in charge, and that makes you responsible for everything your people do or don’t do. Why didn’t you say no?”

  Mark stood tall and took his dressing down well. He turned to Char, looking for a friend in court. She raised one eyebrow at him. “But he’s so darned cute and he would have died!” was all Mark could come up with.

  Terry buried his face in his hands. Clyde continued to bark at the bear. The big coonhound had yet to have a happy encounter with a bear. Every time before, the bear ended up dead.

  He barked and barked, wondering why his humans weren’t taking action.

  He finally gave up and took off after the horses, racing back with his tail between his legs when the first one kicked him. Clyde retreated to the shade beside the barracks and pouted.

  “We’re stuck with that thing until the end of days,” Terry lamented.

  “If we can’t feed it, we’ll just turn it loose,” Mark suggested.

  Terry turned to look at Mark, one eyebrow raised, “Really? It won’t know the wild when that day comes. It’ll return here and it won’t die of hunger. It’s a grizzly and it’ll help itself to one of the horses, the livestock, or worse, a person. No, we’re stuck with something that needs to eat twenty to thirty pounds of food a day. The good news is that seventy percent or more of a grizzly’s diet can be grains or berries, stuff like that. They’re omnivores,” Terry shared.

  The others simply looked at him.

  “They eat far more than just meat. Omnivores. A carnivore gets everything they need from meat, like a bobcat or a mountain lion. Humans are omnivores.” Terry had to remind himself that few of these men had any kind of formal education. They were all too young on the WWDE.

  “Corporal Blackbeard!” Terry called out. Blackie ran to the fence and stood at the position of attention.

  Until the bear cub ran into him and knocked him down. Char started to laugh as the young man and the grizzly wrestled. Finally reaching an impasse with the bear, Blackie gave what was left of his attention to the colonel.

  “Blackbeard. You have full responsibility for this animal, so it’s up to you to train him. If someone raids us, will he be on the front lines, doing what he has to do to defend the citizens of New Boulder?” Terry asked, making it up as he went.

  “Yes, sir! I’ll train him up right smart. He’ll fight alongside my squad,” the young man declared. Char had to turn away. A bear fighting alongside a Werewolf and a bunch of humans. The grizzly launched itself at the fence, snarling at Char’s back. When she faced the bear, it whimpered and dropped to all fours.

  “Damn, ma’am. Why do you think he’s doing that?” Blackie asked. Char shook her head and walked quickly away. James and Lacy had joined them and looked at each other knowingly. Char pointed a finger at the both of them and they looked quickly away.

  Ignoring the byplay, Terry asked. “What’s his name, Blackie?”

  “Hank, sir,” Blackbeard replied proudly. For a second time, Terry put his head in his hands.

  Great, I have a bear named after me, just like that bastard Greasy Bob from college. He called me Hank because he said I didn’t look like a Terry, but more like a bookworm called Henry, he thought. Should have called that cub Godzilla for how much havoc he will wreak.

  “Fine,” Terry conceded, accepting that nothing was fine. As he always did when things weren’t fine, he found PT, physical training, to be a great reliever. “Formation run!”

  Terry headed to the front of the barracks. His people started to move, but not quickly e
nough. “FORMATION RUN!” he yelled. The squad leaders started yelling at their people and finally there was much scrambling.

  Terry was relieved by the sounds of people rushing around. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel good to see his folks acting with a sense of purpose. After they formed up, he opened the ranks and they did calisthenics. Char joined in, too.

  Clyde did not. Terry had to dispatch Gerry to rescue the horses and chase Clyde back toward the formation. When Clyde arrived, happy, tail wagging, Terry cautioned him. “I’m going to put a leash on you!” The dog seemed indifferent to the notion, or he didn’t understand.

  They closed ranks, tightened the formation and without another word, took off at a slow pace until everyone was in step, then they sped up. Faster and faster until the formation started to lose cohesion. Terry and Char ran around the group, “encouraging” the members to keep up.

  The colonel stopped the run and had the Force members do wind sprints up a small hill, walk back down, and then run up again. Char and Terry paced them, staying just in front.

  Ivan puked, so they ran more laps.

  Then they dropped into push-up position where they stayed, backs straight, abs straining.

  “Feel the burn!” Terry yelled joyously. Char shook her head. He was enjoying the pain far too much.

  “Up!” he commanded, and the Force jumped to their feet, huffing and puffing.

  “Shut your pie holes!” he growled. Mouths snapped closed and nostrils flared as they sucked wind.

  “Corporal James, front and center,” Terry ordered.

  James answered, “Yes, sir!” and jumped from his position at the head of second squad. Mark, standing at the front of first squad, with Jim right next to him, wondered what was coming. He didn’t want to lose his position as acting platoon sergeant, but he had yet to leave the town. He wanted to go on the next venture, see what was out there, and get a chance to prove his mettle.

  James assumed the position of attention in front of Terry. James’s chest heaved as he worked to recover his composure.

  “Describe for the platoon how the attack from the raiders unfolded, how undisciplined troops are no match for well-trained warriors,” Terry told him, waving his finger in a circle for James to face the platoon.

  James spun in place and faced the entirety of the Force de Guerre. “At ease!” he commanded, and then started walking back and forth, just like Terry did.

  Imitation and flattery. Terry stood by and waited.

  “The raiders. We didn’t think of them like that. They looked like security simply protecting their settlement. There were twelve of them, nine of us. Maybe that made them bolder, so they tried to grab the major. She killed three of them in the blink of an eye. They ran, but only to regroup.” He shifted and looked at the ground, figuring how to phrase what came next.

  “We pulled back, because it was clear they were going to do something. So we faked a retreat into a valley, split the squad, let them see one group running away while the rest of us set up on the flank. The group within the valley set up a defensive position behind a collapsed wall. During the night, the first group moved farther into the valley.”

  He looked at the platoon. They were all eyes. This was what they lived for—combat against a determined enemy. They leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the story.

  “They came at dawn, running in an inverted V formation, expecting to fire their old weapons en masse at the defenders. Before they reached the ruins, we opened up from their flank, killing three. They turned toward this new enemy, and that’s when the group at the end of the valley fired. Caught in a cross fire, none of the raiders took more than two more steps before they died. We fired forty-seven rounds to kill all of them but one. We returned him to his people, who were none too pleased that their sons and daughters couldn’t stand up to us.”

  James looked around. He hadn’t felt good about what happened in the caves. The people didn’t understand that the Force only wanted to help and that they were defending themselves. The people never gave the colonel an opportunity to talk with them.

  They attacked, and they died.

  Mark started cheering. “If someone wants to fight, let them bring the fight to us!”

  Terry smiled. His sentiments exactly. He put a hand on James’s shoulder. “Good job, son. Get back in formation now.”

  The corporal returned to his position at the head of his squad. The others joined Mark in cheering.

  No more beatings. Good morale had returned.

  “Listen up!” Terry called to get their attention, but he was interrupted by the crack of a vehicle going faster than the speed of sound. It passed far overhead, then slowed and circled back. The younger members of the Force looked afraid. All of them were anxious. No such technology survived the fall, or so they’d thought.

  “ATTENTION!” Terry yelled. “Lock your nasty bodies at the position of attention!”

  Char joined him as he turned to watch the vehicle descend not far from where they stood. “What the hell is that?” she asked, her face showing, just this once, a small amount of concern.

  He whispered, “Holy fuck, it’s a Pod. God, I hope TQB has returned…”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  “Are we there yet?” Ted asked.

  “Why have I let you live?” Timmons replied. “For a month and a half, you’ve been asking that same stupid question. The answer is always no.”

  “But someday it will be yes,” Ted countered. “And on that day, it won’t be a stupid question.”

  “On that day, you won’t need to ask the question, because you will know that we have arrived.” Timmons slapped the man on the back, understanding a little better why Ted wanted the diversion, the distraction that they weren’t yet there but would eventually get where they were going. “You know what, Ted? I think we’re probably only a few days away. Then the real work will begin.”

  “I think we should go into the town first,” Sue suggested. “Humans coddle their women. They won’t think we’re a threat, just some girls, lost in the wilderness.” She raised her voice, blinking her eyes, “Save us, please, save us!”

  Sue cried, laughing so hard that tears came out.

  Shonna looked at her friend her eyes then turned to look into the distance. “I could use a hot bath. Do you think they have hot baths in that town? They had electricity when we left. They should be able to heat water for a nice, hot, luxurious bath,” she said dreamily.

  “I’ll second that.” Xandrie stood up and started dancing. Her oversized clothes were cinched tightly with random pieces of rope. “Ladies first, bitches!”

  Timmons shook his head as Shonna joined Xandrie to dance together. They all missed the music. New York City had been vibrant. No matter where they’d gone, there was always something playing, something unique. From rock, to opera, to rap, there had always been music. No one thinks about how much they would miss it until it was gone.

  “Wouldn’t a nightclub be something?” Adams asked, looking at the She-Wolves in a new way. Dancing and drinking. Being forever young. He wanted to see that again.

  “A nightclub,” Timmons stated. “I think that I’d settle for sleeping in a bed, then work my way up to being inside during a rainstorm.”

  “It’s about having the right goals, isn’t it, Timmons?” Merrit asked. The two had gotten past their squabbling and were closer than ever.

  “Indeed. Shall we head to higher elevations? Run in the cooler air, thinner, yes, but cooler, and I feel that we’ll dine on elk today,” Timmons said hopefully. The others were responding to his leadership. He was feeling more and more like an alpha. He needed to eat, build his strength, for when they found Marcus and the pack challenged the great Werewolf’s leadership.

  Timmons smiled at the others. He would not have to stand alone.

  ***

  The pod settled to the ground in an open area not far from the formation.

  “Stay behind me,” Terry cautioned Char.


  “Bullshit!” she answered. He stopped and turned, grabbing both her arms. She started to fight, but saw the look in his eyes.

  “Please. These people will know that you’re a Werewolf. One sideways look and they can kill you, without hesitation. There will be nothing you nor I can do about it. Don’t do that to me, Char. Don’t you fucking die on me now!”

  Terry dropped her arms, but held her hand. He kept her behind him as he continued toward the pod. The back hatch dropped and a man stood there, the man he’d met in Syria. A Japanese man wearing a single katana at his side stepped out.

  A well-used, ancient katana.

  He had come back to earth. Maybe he never left, Terry didn’t know.

  “Welcome back, Akio,” Terry started, not sure how much to say to the soft-spoken vampire. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Charumati.”

  They hadn’t been officially married, but he didn’t have time to explain.

  Akio’s eyes flared red as he recognized the Werewolf for what she was.

  “I was sorry to hear about Melissa,” Akio replied, never taking his eyes from Char. “Purple. Interesting.” He turned his attention to Terry. “Do you trust her?” Akio asked.

  “With my very life,” Terry answered without hesitation.

  “As it may be,” Akio replied in a low voice, noncommittally. “We have been watching, Terry Henry Walton. The Nomad is no longer lost.” Akio flicked his eyes to the town, “To humanity you bring civilization. To the world you bring discipline and vigor.” Now he looked at his men, looking back at him, “Tell me of your troops.”

  Terry showed the way, staying between Akio and Char, keeping a firm grip on Char’s hand. If she were in Werewolf form, her hackles would have been straight up. Terry knew it. She was emitting a strange odor that even Terry could smell. There was no way Akio could miss it. Terry gripped her hand even more tightly.

  When they reached the formation, Terry pointed for Char to stand in the back. Reluctantly, she walked away, but the pleading look on Terry’s face hastened her steps.