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

by Craig Martelle

  “Pollution,” Aaron said simply.

  “That is an unfortunate side product of our process,” the Forsaken said, sounding remorseful.

  “But you’re not going to change anything?” Aaron asked, although he already knew the answer.

  The Forsaken’s eyes darted past before returning to focus on Aaron. Kimber caught the movement, seeing more white in his eyes. She checked behind her. A security force was moving in.

  “We got company!” she called. Aaron turned but Yanmei maintained her laser-like focus on the Forsaken.

  Auburn adjusted, finding new cover. Nick winced as he settled into a sitting position, removing an extra magazine and setting it in his lap. He braced his elbows on the inside of his knees as he’d been taught. He found the movements to be comforting and understood why they drilled excessively at basic movements.

  In combat, there was no time to think about the mechanics of doing a warrior’s duty. He needed to see the battlefield, assess the enemy, and plan to kill every single one of them. He didn’t need to waste time thinking about holding steady on his sight picture and sight alignment.

  As Aaron started to turn back, the Forsaken attacked. It was fast, but Aaron and Yanmei had just completed a week of intensive martial arts training, honing their skill to the highest level.

  Aaron met the Forsaken’s rush with a knee strike to the creature’s face. It flipped backward from the violence of the impact. Yanmei stormed toward it.

  Kimber fired the first shot as the security guards separated and started to run toward them. Auburn followed, and Nick started knocking down targets one by one.

  Breathe, aim, squeeze, and repeat.

  Ten men were down in the space of four heartbeats. The others angled away and ran for their lives.

  The difference between a militia and a well-trained military.

  Aaron stepped forward, not crossing his feet as he remained balanced, hands ready to block or strike. Yanmei leapt high, coiled, and brought her foot down as the Forsaken tried to roll away. She caught it on its side, cracking ribs and stopping it cold.

  Aaron struck. He used his height to build additional momentum as he drove his fist downward. He caught the Forsaken in the side of the head, making the creature’s skull bounce off the concrete walk.

  Yanmei followed with another into the creature’s back. And then she rained a series of kicks down upon the prone Forsaken.

  One of the guards stopped when he realized no one was shooting at him anymore. He turned back. Nick shot him in the face. The others kept running as fast as their legs could propel them.

  Kim stood and waved for Auburn to join the Weretigers. She signaled for Nick to cover his half of the area in front of them. Kim and Nick would make sure the others were uninterrupted as they discussed the Forsaken’s future.

  “Wait!” it called, blood pooling below its head where it had impacted the concrete. It grimaced in agony as it tried to sit up. The creature held out its hand, expecting help.

  No one lifted a finger. Auburn held a steady aim. Silver bullets tearing apart a Forsaken’s head would guarantee a permanent death. He only needed the Weretigers to say the word.

  Or the Forsaken to do something stupid.

  It struggled into a sitting a position. “We only wanted to talk,” it said in Chinese.

  “Not likely,” Aaron replied in English. “I think you were counting on your minions to do your dirty work for you.”

  “Not so,” the Forsaken replied.

  “Lying will get you killed sooner rather than later. We have a few questions that I need answers to…”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lake Michigan

  “For fuck’s sake! How long does it take to fix a boat?” Terry raged. They’d been swimming for an entire day. Darkness was falling and he didn’t know how close they were to the shore, whether they’d made any progress at all.

  Terry was angry and tired. Char was slowing down. Sarah clenched her jaw as she soldiered on.

  “We need rest,” Char said as she pulled up and tread water, barely keeping her chin above the lake’s surface.

  “Rescue swim,” Terry said slowly. “You both lie on your back and I’ll pull you behind me. Relax and sleep. I’ll do the work. First to wake spots me.”

  Char and Sarah were too tired to argue. The three shifted around until Terry could get a hand under the neck of each woman. They were dense, not prone to floating, so he had to kick hard to keep them above the water. He could feel how quickly they relaxed to sleep the sleep of the exhausted.

  He grunted and worked his jaws as he swam, kicking vigorously as he entered the twentieth straight hour of swimming. He wasn’t sure how long even his strength would hold out. “I’m going to beat the fuck out of you, Merrit, just because,” he grumbled, while continuing to kick. Relentlessly driving them toward an unseen shore.

  ***

  “Terry is going to fucking kill us!” Merrit cried. They’d fallen asleep after fixing the sail. Night was falling, and they felt well-rested. They’d slept for too long. The wind had dropped off and was barely tickling the water’s surface. Shonna hauled the sail upright, hand over hand pulling the sail to the top of the mast. She tied one end to a cleat and then adjusted the sail against the light breeze according to Merrit’s directions.

  They headed south, staying close to the breeze. At least one thing was going their way.

  Merrit used his comm device to call Eve. “Can you guide us to Terry, please?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “One moment please. I have you both. It seems they are two miles to your northeast.”

  “How is that possible?” Merrit said, waving wildly for Shonna to loosen the sail as he tacked across the wind, changing their direction by ninety degrees. A couple minor adjustments later and they were making the best time they could.

  “I cannot say how it is possible, only that it is. Once you reach them, you are only two more miles from shore if you continue in the same direction that you are now going.”

  “Thanks, Eve. I’m keeping the channel open. Yell if we need to change course.” Merrit clipped the device to his shirt collar.

  “Terry and Char don’t need to know that we were taking a nap when they were only two miles away. Holy shit! Why didn’t we check that before we fixed the sail?”

  Merrit shook his head. Shonna used her device to call Terry, but he didn’t answer. “I hope we’re not too late,” she said as she climbed forward to look ahead, hoping to see them bobbing between the waves.

  Chizhou, on the banks of the Yangtze River

  The Forsaken was trussed like a hog going on a spit. They had lugged the creature up the stairs and back into its darkened office, then ripped the coverings off the windows to let the light in. They had removed its hat and shirt, leaving the Forsaken bare-skinned and sitting close to the sun’s rays.

  “No,” Aaron said as it tried to inch farther from the offending daylight.

  “What are your questions so I can escape the cursed day?” it asked in Chinese. Aaron shook his head.

  “English, please.”

  “Ask your question, Weretiger.”

  Aaron stood there silently before deciding that he didn’t have any questions. He motioned for Yanmei to ask the questions.

  She sighed before glaring at the Forsaken. “How many more of you are there?”

  “None. There is only me. I slept in a cave for more than a century. When I returned to the world of man, I found this operation struggling. They are doing much better now.” The creature smiled.

  “Where is the Qin Clan?” Yanmei demanded, slapping the Forsaken’s face.

  He smirked and remained silent. She grabbed him by the neck and dragged him into the daylight. His skin started to smoke and he cried out in pain. Then he started howling, like a wolf bays at the moon.

  Yanmei kicked him out of the sun’s rays. Nick thought it curious how its skin smoked after getting exposed to the sunlight. A daywalker this one was no
t.

  Kim and Auburn watched with mild interest, paying more attention to what they could see outside the windows. Some of the guards had returned, but they were in disarray. The leader must have been among the ones who were killed. One of the guards was trying to rally the others and having some success as he pointed wildly at the admin building and then at the men.

  Kimber stood back from the window so the barrel of her rifle wouldn’t stick out. She adjusted her stance and let her heartbeat drag the front sight post around in a figure eight. She calmed her breathing and let the barrel move. Holding perfectly still in the off-hand firing position wasn’t easy.

  Tracing a tight figure eight on your target was how Terry Henry had taught marksmanship. The end of the barrel only moved the width of a blade of grass but it was enough to be the difference between a kill shot and a wounded enemy fighting back.

  Kim started squeezing the trigger at the outside of the curve and as the barrel came back around, the trigger completed its motion. The discharge surprised Kimber, as it was supposed to. No flinching. No jerking. The round hit the man in the back and exploded through, sending blood and gore over those closest to him.

  She took aim and squeezed off a second shot at the man she determined was the next most likely to play hero. He went down, tried to crawl, and then collapsed completely.

  The others ran out the gate and kept going. The two gate guards were nowhere to be seen. She wondered briefly if they had gone before or were new additions to the latest episode of the running man.

  When she looked back inside the room, Yanmei was holding the Forsaken’s head in the sunlight again. Kim had no idea what transpired, but clearly it had not been in the creature’s favor.

  “I’m not good with the torture,” Kimber said, pulling the Forsaken out of the light and throwing it to the floor. Yanmei snarled. “I know, Yanmei. I know. This asshat isn’t Kirkus. Terry Henry killed that fucker with his bare hands and then tore his head off with a door! What else could you ask in retribution?”

  Yanmei kept her teeth bared as she glared at Kimber. Kim had never seen the usually sedate Yanmei like that. “If we need to kill it, then let’s get it done. There’s a lot of work to clean this place up!” Kim tentatively put out her hand and touched Yanmei’s arm. Concern filled Kim’s face.

  The Weretiger sighed and relaxed. “You are right, Kimber. Thank you.” She walked from the room without another glance at the Forsaken.

  The creature smiled as Yanmei left. Everyone jumped at the rifle’s report. The Forsaken’s head exploded spectacularly, spraying a pattern across the office’s plain wall. Nick took his finger from the trigger and clicked the weapon back to safe.

  Kim and Auburn looked back and forth between the dead Forsaken and the private. “I’m not cleaning that up,” Kimber finally said.

  Aaron’s mouth worked silently. Finally, he spoke. “Why?”

  “Somebody had to make a decision and that thing was tearing us apart. You weren’t going to get anything from it, were you?”

  “No. He wasn’t going to tell me anything. He wasn’t one of the good Forsaken.”

  “So we’re good, right?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah. We’re good.” Aaron stared at the body on the floor, having forgotten what they’d come there for.

  “Aaron,” Kimber started. “What do you say we go find some people who work here and start setting things straight?”

  “Sounds good,” Aaron said woodenly, remembering how much he hated the killing.

  An explosion made the building shake.

  “What now?” Kimber complained as she ran out the door.

  Lake Michigan

  “There they are. Go right!” Shonna called over her shoulder as she leaned over the prow, using her Werewolf vision to see the three figures floating in the water ahead. “Oh, shit!”

  She ran two steps and vaulted beyond the single mast to untie the sail. Merrit worked the ship’s wheel back and forth to slow the boat.

  “Ahoy!” he yelled.

  “Bring that boat over here so I can shove that ‘ahoy’ up your ass!” Terry called back in a tired voice.

  Shonna made a face at Merrit, confirming what he thought.

  They were in trouble.

  Shonna threw a rope to Terry as the boat glided by. Char and Sarah grabbed on, letting the boat pull them close to the hull. Shonna and Merrit pulled them aboard.

  Terry climbed aboard last.

  “We’re not very far from shore. We’ll head that way now. Eve has given us a heading,” Merrit offered.

  Terry glared at him with tired eyes. “What took you so long?” he croaked.

  “Once the storm settled, it took a while to jury-rig the sail. And then, I’m so sorry, but we fell asleep. Why didn’t you call Eve for a pod?”

  “Because I trusted that you would be on your way as soon as you could.”

  “Fuck, man. I can’t tell you how sorry we are. Fighting to keep the boat afloat with the sail dicked up took everything we had,” Merrit pleaded. He bowed his head as he sought Terry’s mercy. Shonna stood at his side, equally apologetic.

  “We survived. That’s all that matters. I don’t blame you. We fell asleep, too, for a couple minutes anyway. I think we’ll get some sleep. Wake us in the morning and have breakfast ready.”

  Terry smiled as he went below, joining Char and Sarah who were already dried off and sound asleep in the two beds. He covered the naked women with blankets, before stripping off his wet clothes and toweling himself dry with the one towel that the two women had used. He did the best he could, before working his way into the narrow bunk next to his wife.

  He kissed her on her red-hot forehead and caressed the silver streak of hair that framed one side of her face. “My love,” he whispered before laying back. He didn’t even remember his head hitting their shared pillow.

  Merrit looked to Shonna. “No more fuck-ups,” he whispered harshly.

  “Back at you, nut-licker!”

  “Only because I can,” he replied. They were both relieved at not being castigated for their failure. Saving the boat had taken a great effort, and they weren’t experienced sailors like Terry and Char.

  “All’s well that ends well, but this isn’t the end. We’ve got a long way to go. How far do you think we’ll be able to sail up the Saint Lawrence?” Shonna asked.

  Merrit shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Tac Teams Alpha and Bravo

  The Rhine

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Marcie said. Cory and Ramses sat quietly. Gene was running a big hand through his hair. Kaeden held Marcie’s hand. The unenhanced leaned against the railing and watched the others. They were on the outside looking in, no matter how much Kaeden, Marcie, and the others tried to include them.

  It looked like the group was on vacation. They felt like they were on vacation.

  “This is vanilla pudding of adventures,” Gene replied. Cory and Ramses chuckled. Kae raised one eyebrow as he watched Gene to see if he was joking.

  He wasn’t.

  “You like vanilla, Uncle Gene,” Marcie replied. “Four separate groups of Weres, all of them needed an attitude adjustment. None of them needed to be sanctioned.”

  “Sanctioned?” Gene wondered.

  “It’s TH’s cool term for killed, wiped off the face of the Earth, executed, blown away, those kinds of things,” Marcie explained.

  “Ahh, I see.” Gene stopped playing with his hair. He adjusted his bulk within the deck chair, making it groan in protest.

  “Another week and then the ship retraces its path. I wasn’t around for the planning of this thing, so what happens then? We ride it back?”

  “One-way tickets,” Gene said slowly. “We are out of money and barter. We go home to Fu.”

  Kaeden and Marcie looked at each other, as did Ramses and Cory. The couples liked being together. They couldn’t blame Gene for being homesick.

  Edwin rolled his eyes at Kurtz, but the lieutenant s
hook his head, informing the young man that he shouldn’t make light of Gene’s family life.

  Werebears had a tendency to settle their disputes in a physical manner. Edwin was a big man, but Gene had him by more than three hundred pounds, plus he was faster. If Edwin wanted a beating that he may never recover from, Tyson suggested he give Gene crap about being in love.

  “When you put it that way, it makes the most sense,” Edwin concurred.

  “Perspective, Edwin. It’s all about perspective. No matter how big and bad you are, there’s always someone bigger and badder,” Kurtz explained before turning his attention back to the conversation at hand.

  “Sounds good. We’ll hike into the hills, find a secluded spot, and call for pickup. On a side note, mission success or failure? How do we brief it to the colonel?” Marcie asked.

  “You can call him ‘Dad,’ for piss sake. We all know who you’re talking about,” Kaeden suggested. Marcie gave her husband a mean look.

  “Discipline. It’s only us now. If we need to build the FDG back up, we’ll need some military bearing. Dad, Grandpa, and Boss won’t get it.”

  “But ‘TH’ will?” Kae asked pointedly.

  Marcie’s expression softened, but she didn’t answer.

  “Soooo, how do we frame this?” Marcie returned to her previous question.

  “A win. We mark their locations on the map and keep searching. They’ll move around, but at least we’ll get an idea of how many have come out of the woodwork.” Kae shuffled his feet. He had been there from almost the very beginning. No one realized that Were had survived as they had. “I’ll be damned if we ever thought that any survived, let alone the big numbers of them that we’re seeing.”

  “Eight is big number?” Gene asked.

  “It is, especially when we were expecting zero,” Kaeden replied.

  “No big deal. I take eight by myself. Time for vacation!” Gene declared, getting up and heading for the restaurant. His internal feeding clock was right on time. The restaurant was opening in one minute. It never bothered Gene to be first in line. Because he expected to be somewhere in the middle for rounds two and three, and last in line as well. The others planned to wait.