Nomad Redeemed Read online

  * * *

  Terry, Char, and Clyde left the caravan of travelers behind, riding ahead to find a place for the people to stay and set them up for as quick an integration as possible into what passed for a society in New Boulder. For that, they needed Billy Spires.

  They were surprised to see him and Felicity standing outside, as if they had been expected.

  “Billy! I think we have some news that you’d like to hear,” Terry said as he and Char climbed off their horses. Clyde greeted his new humans, getting petted by each, before racing off after a rabbit, braying as he trailed the small creature. The four had turned to watch him go.

  Billy crossed his arms, saying nothing as he glared at his security chief. Felicity punched him in the back and brushed past to give Terry a hug, that probably lasted too long, before she moved on to hug Char as well.

  Billy shook his head and put out his hand.

  Terry took it and grinned, giving the mayor an update. “No one hurt on our side, and we have thirty-one people inbound, ready to join us here in New Boulder, and they are ready to work.” Terry stated, pointing to the belt and pistols around Char’s waist. “Sawyer Brown didn’t survive our negotiations, unfortunately. We have twelve horses, rifles, and ammunition. We didn’t find the stash I was looking for, but for our first expedition, I’m not sure we could have done better.”

  When Billy let the silence continue for too long, Char asked, “They’ll be here soon. Where can we house them until they can get their own places, integrate into the community?” He looked at her oddly, almost as if he didn’t understand.

  His eyes opened wide in recognition, “Well I’ll be God-damned! This whole fucking time I’ve been thinking you weren’t coming back and then here you are. What the hell? We’ve got work to do!” He looked up and down the street, “Fuck! I’ve wasted three weeks. We need to get the people together, see who can open their homes, which homes are habitable, who needs help, make sure we put people where they know what they’re doing. Are there any engineers, mechanics, maybe a doctor in that group?” Billy asked, after finally putting his mayor hat on as he recognized the avalanche of responsibilities that were walking right down the road into his town.

  Billy punched Terry in the chest. “I’ll be damned. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Terry Henry Walton. Let’s get these people settled and then let’s talk about what’s next. Son of a bitch! This is going to be a real town again.” Billy was suddenly all smiles as he quivered with excitement.

  Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad. Changing his ways from the town bully to the town leader had happened almost without him noticing. Between Felicity and Terry, he knew he had no choice. Sometimes it was easier to go with the flow.

  Char leaned conspiratorially toward Felicity. “Lots of nice looking young men in this bunch…” she whispered, slowly licking her lips before laughing at the look on Billy’s face.

  * * *

  Marcus leaned back, having just gorged on yet another elk. “Have you ever heard of a Werewolf getting fat?” he asked the half-asleep Ted sitting next to him.

  Most conversations with Marcus were dangerous. Since before Charumati left, he’d been brooding, but things had only gotten worse. Answers to seemingly innocuous questions were sometimes met with extreme violence. Ted tried to parse his words carefully.

  “I have not, unless I was supposed to, then I did, but I can’t remember,” Ted replied.

  “What? Why do I waste time asking an idiot like you anything? The answer is no, until now. I think I’m getting fat, but not so much that I can’t kick your ass upside-down and backwards!” Marcus removed his clothes and changed into his werewolf form, a great beast, all black, with yellow eyes glaring at the physical world. He threw his head back and howled, summoning the others to him as his call shook the trees.

  Ted scrambled away, changing form as soon as he managed to tear off his shirt and pants. The others howled from their perches around the small valley, then the sounds died away as they ran to join their alpha. Marcus found a rock from which he could look down on the valley, down on the others in the pack.

  As they arrived, they howled to their alpha, then sat haphazardly around the area. The males--Ted, Simmons, Adams, and Merrit. The three remaining females--Sue, Xandrie, and Shonna. Two of the females were coming into heat. Marcus wondered which of the others he’d have to fight for them, but he was ready. He kept his pack only strong enough that no one could challenge him. His mate wasn’t there to constrain any challenge he might like to make, as it was an alpha’s right. Many Alpha’s didn’t exercise that right, letting the she-wolves choose their mates, but Marcus had been alone for long enough that he didn’t care about the old ways.

  He cared about his way.

  “It’s time we return to the foothills, get Char, and go south,” he told them, not inviting discussion. They watched silently, eyes gleaming in the darkness. He missed the purple eyes of his contentious mate, eyes changed by a chance injection of nanocytes into her body before the fall. She healed more quickly than any other Werewolf he knew about, but she had more human tendencies, too.

  I shouldn’t have let her go, Marcus thought, but she had left regardless, and that made him angry again. She was in his pack, and she needed to do as he ordered. He wanted her back so he could put her in her place once and for all.

  Timmons howled to support his alpha. He had no choice. It was how the game was played.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Char sniffed the air outside the greenhouse. Crisp and clean. Fall was coming. There was a group of five newcomers with them since Billy decided everyone had to work the greenhouses and the fields before they determined where best to put people. Terry committed to learning about the newcomers to ensure the best fit between people and their work. Billy hadn’t considered that a problem right away.

  Terry didn’t want the inevitable strife from people doing jobs they hated. Char was indifferent to it all, suggesting they should be happy they had food to eat and a warm place to sleep.

  As odd as it sounded, just having food, water, and a warm bed would get old quickly as the lower levels on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs were guaranteed. It was human nature to want more and better. Terry understood it because he was well read, and had intently studied why conflict started, and what could be done to prevent them.

  And then there was beer. He saw that as the top rung on the ladder to enlightenment. This was the first time he’d been able to visit Pepe and Maria since he returned from their foray south. He rubbed his hands together and smiled.

  “Look at you,” Char said with her hands on her hips and chin up. “All you can think about is your damn beer, isn’t it? It’s like watching a little kid at Christmas.”

  He smacked his lips. “No matter how hard you try, you won’t harsh my buzz!” Terry replied, grinning broadly.

  Her mouth opened slightly. “Harsh your buzz? What are you, twelve? Don’t answer that. I think you’re trying to recapture the magic of your first beer, and that is when you stopped maturing. It’s like Mecca for you,” she added.

  Terry grabbed her without hesitation, picking her up and swinging her around in a circle. She dug her robust fingernails into his neck to let him know that she had enough of his horseplay and ridiculous good mood.

  James stood by placidly, watching. He had yet to figure out the relationship between those two. He thought they were married, but then heard they weren’t. They acted like they’d been together forever. When James found out that she arrived a week after Terry, less than two months previously, he was confused.

  He had a glimpse of her naked body when she distracted the men of Sawyer Brown’s ambush. He thought they were doing it, but they hadn’t been. He wondered how Terry could deny himself such a woman. Maybe one day James would find out, but then he suspected he didn’t want to know the answer.

  He dropped her down. “I promised you a beer, James, and through those doors lies the promised land.” Terry waved the group forward as he str
ode boldly into the greenhouse, where Pepe and Maria greeted them all, stopping the group. Terry looked past the two, but Pepe held out a hand to keep Terry from racing into the back.

  “Welcome to our greenhouse...” Maria said, followed by a long list of platitudes as they were happy to have the help. She and Pepe wanted to set the expectations for the group regarding what work needed to be done, how to do it, and what they would get to take with them when they left.

  Soon, Pepe and Maria would harvest the wheat, and they would need the help of every person they could find. But the amount of grain would be sufficient to bake bread through the winter.

  Pepe and Maria also needed to plant the winter wheat field to give them a harvest in the summer. So much work, but with the new people, next year’s harvest would be the biggest ever. Pepe beamed with joy.

  Terry was feeling a lot less love and happiness being held back from his beer.

  Terry made a small speech to the group, then turned them over to Maria as she handed out fresh baked rolls with her special cucumber dip. Terry physically pulled Pepe aside. He looked at the shorter man. “Why are you keeping me from my beer?” he growled. “What’s wrong?”

  Pepe smiled sheepishly. “It was ready a week ago, based on how you described it. I didn’t want it to go bad, so I bottled it. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I don’t want you to be mad!” Pepe pleaded.

  The surprise must have shown on Terry’s face as Pepe winced. Char magically appeared wearing a concerned expression and holding her hands up as if ready to fight.

  “You know what this means?” Terry asked. No one moved.

  “That means the beer is ready now!” He grabbed Pepe by the shoulders and shook him joyously, then turned to Char. “Get me a beer, woman!” Char’s fist shot out at the speed of thought, crunching into Terry’s cheek, sending him staggering.

  To his credit, he didn’t fall. Pepe watched, wide-eyed.

  “Holy fuck, Char! What the hell?” Terry grumbled, working his jaw to make sure nothing was broken. He checked his teeth with his tongue, searching for anything loose.

  Char smiled pleasantly, then wrapped an arm in Pepe’s. “Show me this magical elixir known as beer, so I can see why it turns grown men into little boys.”

  James was more confused than ever. “Are they married?” he asked. Maria shrugged. The rest watched the antics and ate in silence.

  * * *

  Billy Spires had to run wherever he went because he had more to do than time in which to do it. Felicity had no interest in running and reminded Billy that he promised her a ride. He couldn’t deliver, but he had an idea where to start.

  He left Felicity at the greenhouse working with a group of new people as he ran back past his house and to the power plant. With the arrival of the cooler weather, Billy didn’t even break a sweat as he journeyed from one place to the next.

  As he passed the streetlights, he admired them, knowing that they would be lit come nightfall. The power was already surging through the lines, one house at a time getting added to the burgeoning electrical grid. Some of the newcomers were given homes that would soon have power. All the people had to do was repair the house, fix some things, and do it in their spare time after splitting a full day’s work between the fields and cutting firewood.

  None of the newcomers complained. They were able to eat and no one was beaten. Terry and the FDG weren’t too keen on people using violence to get what they wanted. Some of the new men quickly learned that Sawyer’s way of getting what he wanted was the wrong way. Anyone trying to emulate it received a harsh lesson in new world peacekeeping.

  Although Terry believed that it took violence to stop violence, he also believed that a pat on the back and a friendly helping hand needed to be given first and often. Only after that did he dispense justice, and Terry gave those beat-downs all by himself. He didn’t want any of the others to think they were better than the newcomers. Terry hated doing it, but preferred that over the Force getting a reputation as goons.

  He couldn’t have that.

  So Terry Henry Walton, security chief for New Boulder, kept the peace, while also seeking to grow the Force de Guerre. He wanted new recruits to double the size of his unit, and then he’d keep doubling it until he had an entire army.

  Because that was what it would take to tame the Wastelands. Billy Spires considered himself a benevolent dictator, and the more Terry thought about it, the land required a strongman, not a democracy. You could only have that level of freedom once your security was guaranteed. Terry didn’t want to be the benevolent dictator, but he embraced his role as the honest broker. He’d let the dictator be benevolent, but if Billy went too far, Terry would pull him back in.

  TH’s mission was to bring civilization back to humanity. He’d do what he had to until the people had a say in their future and free elections supported them in that.

  * * *

  Terry looked at Char as she dug through refuse they found in one of the homes destined for the newcomers. Doubling and tripling up was useful only until they had space and supplies for people to have their own homes. They were trying to build a civilization, not a place where they stacked people up like cordwood.

  Members of the FDG were conducting surveys, marking a map as they went.

  “Would you look at this!” Char exclaimed, removing clothing from a sealed plastic bag. She shook it out and held the jacket up to herself. It was a military uniform that someone had probably sealed as a keepsake. It was much too large for her. She handed it over, and Terry held it up.

  “With a little of Margie Rose’s fancy needlework, I think I might have something more fitting my station, don’t you think?” Terry looked at the silver oak leaf insignia of a lieutenant colonel. He was good with that, even though it didn’t really matter.

  No one in this new world cared about that rank. They only knew that Terry Henry brought them peace of mind. Not silver leaves on a collar. Maybe someday people would equate those with a person of integrity. Not today, though.

  Until then, Terry was the pillar of virtue, the Marine’s Marine. The bringer of light.

  When he looked up, Char was naked and trying to wriggle into a pair of jeans. She jumped up and down a couple times to get them over her hips. She shouted in joy as she fastened them, turning left and right to admire them. They were skin tight, but a little loose around the waist.

  “What do you think?” she asked. Terry didn’t answer, wondering why her shirt was off while trying on jeans. That question was answered when she pulled a fluorescent orange bikini top out of the same bag. She adjusted the straps in the back and tried it on, took it off and made a couple other adjustments until it mostly fit. “And now?”

  “I think you still need to wear your shirt,” Terry said flatly. She smirked and put her flannel shirt back on, but didn’t button it, only tied the lower ends around her waist. Terry knew that she wasn’t affected by the cold like humans, but didn’t want her to flaunt it.

  Then again, she didn’t know that he knew.

  “Structurally sound? It could use a new roof, just like every home nowadays, but people could live here. It has a fireplace and an area to dig an outhouse. What else do they need?” Terry said to himself as he returned his focus to the survey. When he looked up, he found himself alone. He heard Char rummaging in a closet down the hallway.

  Terry wondered why this home had not been pillaged over the years. He left Char to her search and went outside. Painted on the front and back doors was the bio-hazard symbol, almost faded to nothing. Would anything survive after twenty years?

  He hoped not, but would encourage a full scrubbing with some of the homemade vinegar that seemed prevalent in New Boulder. Vinegar was every bit as hard to make as beer, maybe more so until the base cultures were sound. After that, the batch sizes could grow. It was a foul-smelling process, but the end result was worth the effort, giving them anything from a cleaning solution to salad dressing.

  A skeleton sprawled on the ba
ck porch. Terry thought that was a nice touch to keep the weaker people away, especially in the first year after the World’s Worst Day Ever. He kicked it into a bush, then checked the house for any structural shortcomings, like a cracked foundation or a bowed load-bearing wall. He didn’t find anything that suggested the house would fall on its inhabitants.

  When he returned inside, Char was barely able to peer above an armload of material and yarn. “Let’s get this back to Margie Rose. We have some work to do!” she exclaimed. Terry looked at the fatigues he’d been absentmindedly carrying.

  “Sounds good. Let’s ditch this stuff and get back out here, finish our survey. The people need to know where they can live before winter hits us in the face,” Terry answered.

  “Don’t we have enough places scoped out? There probably isn’t enough firewood to go around as it is. Maybe we shouldn’t give them so many choices?” She raised her eyebrows to emphasize her point since she couldn’t use her hands. Her purple eyes seemed to glow in the faint indoor light.

  “Because it’s just what we need to do. We’ll probably take the FDG out with the first snowfall. It’ll be easier to see where other survivors are holed up. I want to make sure that we’ve settled things here, that’s all.”

  Char didn’t seem convinced. He didn’t know werewolves had clothing fetishes. He wondered if she had been equally addicted to shoe shopping when there was such a thing.

  “Where are you from, Char? I mean really from, like where did you grow up, before the fall, that is?” he asked, more pointedly than he’d ever asked before.

  “I’m not that old!” she attempted to dodge.

  “You’re like me, good genes. You had a life in the before time. You were somebody and now you’re somebody again. I’m sure a little different than before, just like we all are,” he countered.

  “Fine, how about this?” she said, slipping into a hard New York accent. “Can you guess where I’m from now, Terry Henry Walton?”