Terry found that his enhancements made him immune to the effects of the tear gas, something he had wondered about. The Were folk were immune, too, and that was something TH had been counting on. Gene seemed to like it, but Bogdan and Clyde bolted as if lightning struck and thunder crashed.
Sue ran after Clyde, but he was setting a personal speed record in the opposite direction.
The training schedule was impacted as people had to clean up after getting gassed.
The unfortunate part of the CS training was when the wind shifted and took the cloud past the chow hall. Once Claire found out what happened, Terry was banned. He laughed, but she was deadly serious.
So Terry did what he always did when he was put out: he complained to Char.
She had avoided the whole thing as she didn’t want to get gassed while pregnant, although they were both certain it would have no effect on the baby.
Terry, being the man that he was, suggested Char remain behind with Kae and Aaron, but she put her foot down and insisted that if Terry was going in, so was she.
He would have been able to argue better if he hadn’t been so damn hungry. He wondered when they’d rescind his lifetime ban from eating. His nanocytes couldn’t save him if they didn’t have any energy.
***
Autumn Dawn sat on a chair that Winter Rain had brought for her. She was at the entry to the mayor’s building and everything was set up. Rapids had worked with Antioch to sort out the details. Kiwi whipped in on occasion to throw out an idea she had, and then she’d run off again, back to training.
Rapids decided that Kiwi would be too tired to realize that anything had or hadn’t been done, so he moved forward with the planning. It was going to be a simple ceremony, but the entire town would be there, which meant standing room only. They put a few chairs up front for the older people and that was it. There was no stage. Antioch wasn’t too keen on that since the one in New Boulder collapsed.
When the time came, neither Gerry nor Kiwi were there, nor were any of the others. Autumn Dawn sat calmly, rocking slowly and mumbling prayers to Mother Earth for her granddaughter.
The first person they saw was Char as she strolled into the mostly filled field in front of the large brick building where the mayor made his home. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry as she approached. Claire, Margie Rose, and Mrs. Grimes seemed to be the most put out, but no one would yell at a pregnant woman.
Maybe that was why Terry had asked Char to talk with the crowd.
She waved at people as she passed and continued to the front where she talked softly with Kiwi’s grandmother first.
“They are in the middle of something and it took a little longer than expected. I expect they’ll be here shortly, Autumn Dawn,” Char told the old woman as she kneeled in front of her and held both her hands. The elder nodded appreciatively.
Char stood and shouted to the rest of the crowd, informing them that the happy couple would be along momentarily. She walked around and made small talk, hoping that Terry wouldn’t keep the platoon for too long.
Everyone stopped when they heard Terry bellow the call to attention. The platoon ran in formation, followed closely by all the others who were participating in the training. Aaron and Gene stood out behind the platoon since they were a head taller than most people.
The townsfolk leaned this way and that, craning their necks to get a better view, but no one could see Kiwi or Gerry.
Terry slowed the platoon and they marched forward, coming to a halt as one. They stood at attention as Terry called out once more.
From one side, Kiwi rode in on her horse and from the other, Gerry rode in on his. The crowd cheered as the couple met in front of the platoon. They stayed in the saddle as they walked forward, through the parting crowd and up front to where Antioch waited for them.
“Good thing we didn’t build a platform,” he said quietly to himself and got shushed by his wife.
And that was how the wedding went. Kiwidinok and Geronimo got married while sitting on their horses.
***
Fort Berthold Reservation, North Dakota
Chief Foxtail spent more time getting around the massive lake that dominated the landscape than he was comfortable with. He’d had a bad feeling since they entered the area.
The third day after they passed the sign indicating they were entering a reservation, he realized that he’d been right.
Riders approached from the east. He counted forty or fifty headed his way.
The chief brought his people more tightly together so he could put the men with rifles between them and the riders. He moved up front as the Weathers boys and Eli’s grandchildren tried to control the herd, keep them from wandering.
Foxtail personally checked each rifle, making sure the selector lever was set to semi-automatic and that each man held a tight grip. It pained him to see his people that way.
The approaching braves separated into two groups, one went left and the other went right, which stymied Foxtail’s attempts to meet them head on.
“We only want to talk!” the chief yelled as the first brave approached. The man on horseback flicked his teeth with a finger and growled as he rode past. Those behind him wore equally grim expressions. They all carried spears. Many thrust them into the air.
“Let them get close, aim as we taught you, and pull the trigger. Ignore the noise and pick your next target,” the chief encouraged his men. “Fire when ready.”
The first shot rang out almost immediately. A brave that was only twenty feet away was thrown from his horse. The others with rifles hesitated at the sound of the report, but quickly recovered because the incoming riders kicked their horses into a gallop.
They weren’t intimidated by the firepower. The first salvo knocked two more from their horses, then three, then five. The horses were past and rode wide.
One of the chief’s people, an older man, was speared when he put himself between the riders with spears and a group of children.
“To the sides. Spread out!” Foxtail ordered. Leaping Deer stayed near the chief to defend him. Foxtail carried a knife and nothing else. He hadn’t thought he needed to be armed.
More shots rang out as his people ran, shooting at closer targets. The riders were thrown into disarray and rode to a distant point, before rallying, turning, and attacking as a single group. Two of the men with rifles changed their weapons to automatic and cut loose when the riders were only fifty yards away.
They held the triggers down and their magazines quickly emptied. But the attackers’ will had been broken. Horses and men alike were on the ground, injured and dying. The chief was torn. He wanted to get his people out of the area, but compassion was the cornerstone of his philosophy. He stood on a small rise and yelled.
“My people! We must help the injured, comfort the dying, and send the dead on their final journey. Set up camp as we mourn a battle that didn’t have to be fought, men who didn’t need to die.” And thunder that I didn’t want to call down, he added to himself.
Foxtail grabbed his brother. “Keep the men on alert and guard us while we do what we have to do.”
***
North Chicago
At dawn of the third day, two pods approached soundlessly from the northwest. They settled into the open area in front of the mayor’s building. Timmons watched them descend below the rooftops.
Timmons was waiting for Joseph. He didn’t understand why he was dispatched to pick up the Forsaken, but he didn’t argue because the alpha had directed him, and she didn’t appear to welcome any discussion about it.
He sensed Joseph before he saw him. The Forsaken didn’t appear to be in a hurry. Timmons waited as patiently as he could, but then snapped. “Would you pick up the pace, fuckhead?” he yelled.
“What’s your hurry, Gunner McFuckface?” Joseph replied.
“We have an appointment in New York City, it seems,” Timmons said, curling his lip as he looked at the pasty skin in the shadows of the wide-brimmed hat.
<
br /> “Why yes, we do have a ride for a quick hop to the Big Apple! Let’s see what we have going on, shall we?” Joseph took a quick trip through Timmons’s undisciplined mind, seeing the strategy of the attack and the training that they’d been doing the past two days. “Are you sure they want me along, to deal with humans who probably don’t have the highest opinion of my kind?”
“Terry Henry Walton said you’re coming, so that’s the end of it. Now let’s go!” Timmons didn’t wait as he stalked away. He tried to walk fast, but Joseph sidled up next to him and matched him stride for stride. Timmons was annoyed. He felt that Joseph was mocking him.
“What?” Timmons demanded, stopping.
“Now who’s holding us up?” Joseph asked, throwing his hands out as if asking if Timmons wanted a piece of that. Joseph turned and started running. Timmons bolted after him, not wanting to be last to the pods.
Joseph easily maintained his lead no matter how hard Timmons sprinted to catch up.
The two raced into the field where the pods sat. Joseph slowed to better appreciate the view. Terry stepped around one of the pods and waved Joseph to him. The Forsaken assumed his leisurely gait. Timmons jogged past, but Terry signaled for him, too.
Akio, Yuko, and Eve stood on the ramp of one pod while Terry moved to the other. The platoon was split evenly. Char, Aaron, and Kae were on board the first pod with Akio while Shonna, Merrit, Sue, and Gene were with Billy and Kiwi on the other.
Terry put First Sergeant Blevin and Corporal Heitz in the second pod. The other volunteers from the motor pool were balanced between the two vehicles.
Bogdan and Clyde were on the same pod and started to cause trouble so Terry moved Sue to the first pod. Terry looked at Timmons and Joseph, studying them for a moment.
“You, in there.” Terry pointed at Timmons and the second pod. “You with me.” Terry walked up the ramp to join Char and Akio in the first pod. Yuko and Eve disappeared up front as soon as Joseph stepped onto the ramp. Akio remained firmly in place.
“In your seats. We leave ASAP!” Terry yelled as he directed traffic, making everyone sit down and buckle up.
Akio took a seat up front and watched as the Force quickly settled in.
When the ramp closed, Terry took his seat next to Char and gave the thumbs up. Without anyone doing anything else, the pod rose swiftly into the air and headed east. The pod climbed for half the flight and then descended.
Terry stared at the floor and rocked himself as he always did on the insert. He visualized the landing zone, ran through the options in his head based on which scenario unfolded the second the ramp came down and his people stormed off. Terry reached to his chest and felt his communication device. He’d call Akio when the way was clear.
Terry watched the second pod take a different angle toward the target as they each headed for their own landing site.
The pod gently touched down. Terry slapped his flak jacket and helmet, shouting “OORAH!” The platoon responded. When the ramp dropped, all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Queens, New York City
Someone had a weapon and they were shooting into the pod. Terry grunted when a round impacted his chest. He turned and stood tall to block Kaeden. “Get him in the back!” Terry ordered and there was a mad scramble as Aaron swept the boy up and held him close.
Kae looked afraid, as he should have been.
The others were running down the ramp and out the back to take up firing positions behind the nearest cover. Terry aimed his M4 carbine out the front and aimed as he headed down the ramp. A round zipped past him and he heard Char gasp as it hit her.
Terry fired rapidly into the window where the shots came from. He hesitated and looked back. Blood streamed down Char’s arm, but it had only made her angry. She was already healing. The others were on their feet. Clyde ran past and was barking madly.
He could hear gunfire from the direction of the other pod.
In combat, he who hesitates is lost. Terry yanked his focus back to the matter at hand.
Terry directed the platoon’s fire at three different windows as he ran at the door beside them. Suppressing fire tore through the windows and chewed up the bricks around the frame.
Char was right behind Terry and Sue followed. Terry pulled a gas grenade from his harness and dumped it through the window.
He signaled to his riflemen to cease fire.
When he heard people inside coughing, he kicked the door at the knob and bent it, but it didn’t break. He called up everything he had for a second try, exploding the door and the wooden barrier behind it. He stepped through then jumped to the side, so he wouldn’t be highlighted in the doorway.
Three people. All armed. He waded through the CS smoke and butt-stroked each, knocking them stupid so he could take their weapons. He dragged them outside one by one.
“Tie them up!” he called. A couple oldsters from the motor pool stalked forward and got creative in wrapping the arms and legs of the defenders.
Terry waved the others to him. Char reached out with her senses. “Six more upstairs, I think non-combatants.”
“You heard the major! Get up there and clear this building. You are looking for six. Drag them out here to join the others. You two!” Terry called to the old drivers. “Set up a containment area over there. We’ll move our detainees to you. Your job is to keep them out of our way; keep them from getting back into the fight.”
The two men nodded as they dragged their first three prisoners away.
***
Mark stood at the ramp as it lowered, ready to head out. The first rounds disintegrated when they hit the hull of the pod and bullet shrapnel sprayed over Mark, cutting his face and arms. He yelled, old Marine Corps style, and thumbed his AK off safe. He fired where he saw the muzzle flushes.
“Get the fuck out there!” he yelled and the Force de Guerre rushed past him, staying clear of his line of fire as he covered them. Two men set up at the bottom of the ramp and added to Mark’s fire.
The sergeant stopped shooting when he ran out of the pod and joined his people. But he was inexperienced and stood in the open as he surveyed the battleground.
Incoming fire impacted around him. He dodged and ran to the nearest cover, cursing his mistake. He looked about, wondering if it was just his group that had gotten hit. His answer was hearing the rifle fire from the direction of the other pod. Single shots that sounded different from what he was used to, then the fire from an AK-47, joined by the higher pitched 5.56mm rounds fired by the M4.
Billy stood wide-eyed in the pod. Kiwi had pressed herself against the hull as bullets ricocheted off the ground outside. The Force de Guerre, both young members and the oldsters with the neck scars, were systematically laying down fire, like a trained military. They’d run into the fire without hesitation and were doing their jobs.
A roar announced to the world that Gene had changed into a Were-bear. He rumbled off the pod, drawing all fire to himself. Bogdan followed at a reasonable distance. No one seemed to notice the smaller bear with Gene making all the noise and running directly for the door of the building where the shooting was coming from.
The Force stopped firing as they watched Gene pound past, the ground shaking with his steps. Those in the building hadn’t stopped firing and they were shooting at Gene.
“Fire!” Mark yelled, hoping to cover Gene for whatever the Were-bear had in mind.
The Werewolves ran from the pod and took cover. Timmons joined Mark. “There aren’t many people in this building, but in the next one over, there’s a shitload,” Timmons informed him.
Mark thought for a moment. “We clear this one and use it as a base to secure the next building over. The third one is where the Forsaken is,” Mark said, thinking out loud.
“We’ll just wait. Gene will clear this building by himself. You probably need to have your people ready when the enemy comes running out, terrified.” Timmons smiled and watched by peeking out from behind an old, rusted car.
***
Sue stared at the next building over.
“What do you see?” Terry asked as he listened to the firefight around the corner. It was interrupted by a Were-bear’s roar, the sound of a door splintering, and then the firing stopped, followed by more roaring as Gene let the world know that he’d conquered his enemies.
“People moving to the windows. Get down!” Sue pulled Terry to the side and he used his body to shield Char as all three of them tumbled to the ground. They crawled to the other side of a stairway into the building before them.
“Do they have guns?” Terry asked.
Sue shrugged. “Maybe?”
“Fuck them,” Terry snarled. He jacked a 40mm CS grenade into the launcher attached to his rifle, leaned around the corner, aimed over the top of his barrel, and pulled the trigger. The grenade foomped from the barrel and lobbed through the window.
Terry opened the launcher and dumped the empty, replacing it with another gas grenade. He wasn’t ready to start blowing things up. He checked Char’s wound. The bullet had grazed her arm and impacted her flak jacket. The tear in the skin was closed and if it weren’t for the torn shirt, he would have never known she’d been shot.
With some shouting, six unkempt men and women were shoved bodily down the steps. Terry pointed where they were supposed to go, but the detainees snarled and snapped like wild animals.
He grabbed one woman by her hair and twisted. The bite marks on her neck were there, but only one set. Terry showed Char and Sue. They weren’t sure what to think. If they’d been fed on, why were these people acting like they were defending the Alamo?
Terry flung the woman from him. The Force moved them to the containment area where five oldsters were now running the show. They felt sympathetic, but only so far. One of them showed the newcomers his scars and that seemed to calm them. Then the other oldsters pulled their collars down.
Nomad Omnibus 02: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Omnibus) Page 35
