Nomad Omnibus 03: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus)

by Craig Martelle

  She tapped her team, one by one, as she took the lead to take them closer to the southern end of the former base.

  ***

  Kaeden oriented his team and headed out immediately. He put Camilla on point, a position she liked best, and he brought up the rear. He preferred to keep all his people in view so he could best react in case something happened. He was tall enough to see over the heads of most of his people.

  He never took that small fact for granted.

  Camilla led them, unerringly staying in the dark recesses of the tropical jungle. She moved slowly, knowing they had less than a mile to travel. Closer and closer to the ruins she crept, until the crack of something underfoot froze her in her tracks.

  Debris.

  The jungle had encroached more than they suspected. She was already into the ruins. She timidly held her fist in the air, calling for a halt.

  Kaeden had heard the crunch. He saw her signal and slowly began working his way to the front of the line.

  “I brought us in too close. We probably want to move back fifty yards or so,” she whispered toward Kae’s ear.

  He nodded, then realized that she might not have seen it. “Let’s split the difference. Twenty-five yards,” he whispered carefully, before leaving her behind, backtracking and signaling for the team to follow. He picked a spot to put the first person. The former tail-end Charlie was designated the anchor.

  Kaeden left him in place and oriented the remaining warriors from him in a line parallel to the ruins. Kae wasn’t sure what they could observe of the target, but he suspected it would be enough. They could move if need be, but he learned his lesson during the exercise that he wouldn’t do any personal reconnaissance and that his greatest advantage came from moving at night.

  He put his people in place and personally anchored the far end of the line where the jungle growth thinned.

  Kae listened intently and then stood, looking through the growth and into the open areas. He saw nothing, took one step, then another, and was soon skulking among the heavy ruins at the edge of the jungle. Under the waning moonlight, he could clearly see the ground and that the sand had been undisturbed until he stepped on it. He found a branch on the ground and brushed his footprints away as he backed into the jungle to resume his position with the squad.

  He settled in to wait and watch. Half his people were already asleep, the other half was doing their best to remain alert.

  Taishizhuangcun, China

  Aaron and Yanmei worked their way closer to the city of Taishizhuangcun, Yanmei’s hometown.

  They had skirted farming village after farming village on their way from Tianjin. They’d avoided Beijing, although they suspected at some point they would have to go through it, look for anyone who might be pulling power from the etheric connection.

  They’d sensed nothing on their way, not even another Weretiger, which they thought odd.

  “Lead on, my love,” Aaron said gently. Yanmei hesitated.

  “It looks so different from the last time I was here,” she said slowly, squinting as she looked back and forth. “This way, I think.”

  Aaron followed her closely as she wound her way between a variety of buildings, both small and large. She stopped, chewed on a fingernail, turned, took two steps in one direction, and then turned around to head the opposite way.

  Yanmei finally grew confident and picked up her pace. She hurried the last two blocks through the rubble and ground to a halt as she looked at the outskirts of what used to be her hometown.

  “My home used to be right there,” she said, pointing at a small pile of rubble. “And my cousins lived over there.”

  Aaron followed her finger. Whatever had been where she pointed was completely grown over. Where there was water, foliage sought to reclaim its own. Where there was no water, the Wasteland took over, scrubbing life from the Earth’s surface.

  “At least there’s water and people. It’ll come back,” Aaron said weakly.

  Tears rolled down Yanmei’s face as she looked at what had been her home. Aaron was unsure of what she needed from him, but he was certain that he couldn’t take her pain away, so he held her hand and kept her company.

  They stood like that for a long time. Villagers came and went, stealing glances at the out-of-place couple. Still, the Weretigers remained.

  “Let’s go back to Beijing and see what there is to see. I could use a good a dim sum, if the Cantonese section of town still exists,” she said sadly.

  Aaron couldn’t get away from Taishizhuangcun quickly enough.

  Kingston, Jamaica

  Kimber lay on her stomach under a short palm tree. From her vantage point in the hills due east of the town, she could see a vibrant and colorful community below. The pod was farther back, in a clearing where the other members of the team were busy camouflaging it.

  They’d dropped off Ramses and Cory in the hills to the north of the town on their way to the more elevated hills to the east. Kim felt that her two teams were at a disadvantage since they didn’t have a Were with them to sense any others with etheric abilities.

  Half a mile from the nearest settlements and three miles from the center of town, Kimber wanted to get closer, but there were too many people.

  She slapped a bug crawling up her neck, and her lip curled when she saw it was a large spider. She flicked two more bugs away from her before wriggling backwards out of the brush. She dusted herself off when she stood up, slapped four more bugs, and then announced, “I hate bugs.”

  “How long we gotta sweat in this hellhole?” one of the privates complained.

  “For as long as we need to be here,” Kim snapped back with a smile. “Welcome to the FDG! Every day’s a holiday. Every meal’s a feast. Every deployment’s a vacation. Now shut your stinking pie hole and finish covering that pod!”

  ***

  Cory and Ramses stayed in the clearing where they were dropped off while the team moved in an arc toward the town, traveling two by two.

  The warriors settled in to their observation positions with the early dawn and began their mission. They remained wary because of the amount of movement below.

  The city was alive, a real city, with real industry. They’d seen the lights when they flew in, and now, the amount of people was nearly overwhelming.

  Ramses had ordered the teams to take no risks; to stay within the deep brush and watch. After the initial scouting of positions, they wanted to move closer, but Ramses said no. They had a week to conduct their reconnaissance. He didn’t want to rush things in case they ran afoul of the local populace and had to leave. Running away with their tails between their legs wouldn’t put them in the colonel’s graces.

  Ramses leaned back as he called Kimber. “In place. No contact,” he reported.

  “Roger. Kimber out,” she replied formally.

  Ramses told Cory to stay where she was and he crawled away to check on positions before it became too light to move about.

  ***

  Kimber stuffed her communication device back in her pocket. Something thumped into her back. Other clumps impacted the ground around her. It was a hailstorm of mud.

  “What the hell?” Kimber heard a grunt and complaint from one of her warriors. She low-crawled quickly through the brush.

  “What in the fuck are those fucking things? They’re throwing mud!” the warrior whispered harshly.

  “It ain’t mud,” Kimber replied. Her heightened senses picked it up all too clearly.

  “Oh, crap,” the warrior said, preparing to move.

  “Where are you going?” Kimber asked as a clump hit the ground next to her. She picked it up and hurled it so quickly, her motion was a blur. It hit the little brown creature square in the chest, knocking him backward.

  The warrior made to say something, then sighed, wrinkling his nose at his predicament.

  Kim threw sticks at the creatures until they ran away.

  She wiped her hand clean in the sand and dirt, then pulled out her communication d
evice. “Ted. We were just attacked by little brown human-like creatures who were throwing their crap at us.”

  From within the pod at Guantanamo Bay, he answered quickly. “There are no monkeys in Jamaica.” His dismissive tone suggested he had no patience dealing with Kim’s nonsense.

  “How dated is that information?” Kim asked, having seen her father work with Ted.

  “Sixty years old, I guess. I suppose they could have returned somehow,” Ted conceded.

  “For argument’s sake, let’s assume they are here. How do we get rid of them?”

  “You fling your poop at them or the males display erect penises at the opposing group,” Ted said evenly.

  Kim looked at her comm device. She turned it off when she realized that she had no answer. She pursed her lips and nodded.

  Be careful what you ask Ted, because he may answer. Next time, call Mom and Dad, Kimber told herself.

  North Chicago

  “Grandma!” Mary Ellen called for the twentieth time that minute. Felicity looked down her nose at the little girl as she bounced her quickly growing brother on her hip.

  “I can’t thank you enough for moving into town,” Felicity drawled as she brushed William’s hair away from his face. “This boy needs a haircut.”

  “My nephews have taken over the farm. I’ve given it to them. My life seems to be here, so this is where I am,” Auburn replied, leaning down to take Mary Ellen’s hand and lead her outside.

  “Once again we find the mayor’s office is a nursery. I thought I left that all behind me years ago. I guess some things never change, do they?”

  “And sometimes, everything changes,” Auburn replied sadly.

  “I’m so sorry. Don’t listen to the ravings of a senile old woman. We have a good life, don’t we?” Felicity said as she walked outside with Auburn.

  “I guess we do. But, I want kids of my own and don’t see that happening anytime soon.” His head hung down and his shoulders slumped as he continued into the park with Mary Ellen. Clovis sprinted toward them.

  Auburn saw him in time to jockey out of the dog’s way. The big coonhound mix tore up the turf as he turned for a second pass. Mary Ellen giggled until he knocked her down and started licking her face. Soon, Auburn was on the ground wrestling with the dog to free the little girl.

  Felicity strolled up. “Sit!” she commanded. Clovis hesitated.

  “I said, SIT!” she bellowed. Clovis sat down. Felicity smiled. “Maybe Cory can’t train him, but I’m not afraid to show that mangy hound a firm hand. Who’s a good boy?”

  Felicity scratched the dog’s ears as Auburn helped Mary Ellen up. She reared back to take a swing at the dog, but Auburn caught her arm. “We don’t hit,” he scolded as he took a knee to look at her eye to eye. “We don’t need to lash out. There’s a difference between disciplining a dog and striking in anger. Now give your uncle a hug.”

  The little girl wrapped her arms around Auburn’s neck while keeping a wary eye on Clovis.

  Felicity smiled. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Havana, Cuba

  Terry and Char looked at the once-magnificent city of Havana. The sails were furled and the sailboat was drifting in the bay’s light waves. A narrow channel led to the port of Havana, but it was blocked by half-sunken ships and other debris.

  “I guess someone decided that Havana needed a nuke up its tailpipe?” Terry said.

  Char nodded while the deckhands looked on. Two of them had lines in the water, never missing an opportunity to fish. Terry couldn’t fault them. More than fifty years after the WWDE, the waters were clear and the fish tasty without being toxic.

  Plus, it kept them happy. Terry was certain that as long as they could fish, Louie, Jose, and Archie were happy.

  “Nothing,” Char offered before Terry could ask.

  “Time to go, boys,” Terry said, before starting a thorough inspection of the sailboat’s equipment. The ketch had a multitude of rigging. A variety of whips, guys, and tackles needed to be checked to make sure they wouldn’t fail. Lines couldn’t be frayed, but they were because replacing them was problematic. They had backup rigging, but it was in worse shape.

  With the fishing poles put up and the crew ready, Terry called the crew to action. “Hoist the mainsail!” Terry pointed the bow northeast to take advantage of a southern breeze. The sailboat creaked as it picked up speed. Sheet after sheet joined their mates and soon, the boat raced ahead under full sail.

  Terry steered along the coast to give Char the greatest look inland, reaching into the etheric to sense anyone from the Unknown World.

  The crew took their seats and waited for the first tack into the wind.

  Manhattan

  “I’ve had enough of your bullshit,” the crass second shift foreman said. “And what kind of name is Butch? You’re just a fucking ass monkey. You’ve fucked my crew for the last time by trying to make us look bad. Well, we’ve fucked you, and soon we’ll get things back to normal when you’ve been fired.”

  Skippy clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. Butch held him back.

  “What, pretty boy? You want a piece of this?” the man taunted. “Come on, candy ass. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

  Butch continued to hold Skippy back because she knew something that he didn’t. The superintendent was listening in. He’d been having problems with the shift after Butch’s and suspected the crew was sabotaging the work to make it look like Butch was failing. She knew it was at the foreman’s urging.

  And now, it was clear to the superintendent. He appeared from around the corner.

  “See? Look at him. They’re coming after me!” the foreman claimed.

  “I think you should take him up on it, Skippy, if you want. Take a piece of him.” The superintendent crossed his arms and leaned against the door. Butch stepped aside.

  The foreman narrowed his eyes. “So this is what it’s going to be, huh? I was scrapping in back alleys before these weak fuckers were born,” the man claimed.

  Butch smiled. Skippy didn’t care about the taunts. He was a scrapper, too, but Terry Henry and the pack had taught him how to fight to win. Skippy moved casually forward, his hands up but loose. He was both faster and stronger than the middle-aged human, but he didn’t want to kill the man, just teach him a life lesson.

  Skippy decided that he would settle for breaking the man’s arms for being disrespectful to Butch.

  The man held his hands up. “Okay, fun’s over. We got work to do,” he claimed but they could see him tense. His first punch, a well-aimed jab, was easily blocked and countered.

  The foreman staggered back, blood dripped from his nose into his split lip. He couldn’t remember seeing the punch.

  His face turned bright red as he roared and lunged. Skippy swung an uppercut that tagged the foreman on the chin. He came off his feet and slammed heavily against the desk before crumpling to the floor.

  The superintendent leaned out the office door and said something to someone Butch and Skippy couldn’t see. He stepped aside and two burly security guards entered, collected the unconscious foreman, and left. Butch grabbed his coffee cup and tried to hand it over.

  The superintendent intercepted it and tossed it in the trash can.

  “Skippy. Congratulations. You’re the second shift foreman. Don’t fuck up.” The man nodded briefly and headed out.

  “I guess I’m pulling a double today,” Skippy said, looking at the empty doorway.

  “I guess we’re pulling a double today,” Butch replied, snuggling close to her man. “You beat that man senseless for me. My white knight.”

  “He was a pussy, and you know you’re better at that shit than me. I’m a lover, baby, not a fighter.” Skippy looked at his hands.

  Not a mark. Not a single scar to commemorate the event, even if it would last for only a few hours. No one would ever know that Skippy defended the honor of first shift by nut-punching a bully.

 
“You better get to work, lover boy. We have a little paperwork to do, and then you brief your crew. We may have to weed out some of the loyalists, but I expect they’re more loyal to the paycheck,” Butch suggested.

  They went to work. Butch trained Skippy quickly on what was required. He knew her system and had no intention of changing what worked. When the time came, he walked from the office to the foundry floor where the crew waited. They were talking in hushed tones behind their hands.

  An environment of secrets and gossip.

  Skippy didn’t mince words. “Your foreman got himself fired for fucking over the foundry. Which means that some of you helped him.” Skippy waited as he looked quickly at each and every one of his crew, noting those who couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “That’s behind us. Our job has one simple task. Metal castings. Simple as that. We make the steel and create something that a company wants to buy. We roll sheets and wire. Without us, our world cannot be rebuilt. I don’t give a fuck about anything other than that. We’re going to do our jobs and take pride in the result. Here’s what we have on the agenda for today…”

  Skippy gave out the individual assignments, mixing people up to ensure that no two malcontents were together. That may not have been fair to those who only wanted to do their jobs, but Skippy and Butch had a plan.

  Throughout the afternoon and evening, they spent all their time on the floor, giving a helping hand and showing that they led by doing. Long into the night, the work continued. Butch and Skippy were everywhere in order to help, not micromanage. Come morning, the crew realized what they’d been missing for as long as they’d worked there.