Nomad's Journal_A Kurtherian Gambit Series Page 4

  The eerie silence weighed on Timmons’s soul. He started to run, then broke into a sprint. Gene hustled to keep pace, but gave up quickly and opted for his Werebear form, which was much faster than his human version.

  The Werebear passed Timmons even though he was running at Were speed. Timmons was amazed as he struggled to keep up.

  They could sense Sue and Adams ahead, but they were separate, in too-far different places. Gene broke right to run after Adams. Timmons went left. Sue was underground, and Adams was on the fourth floor of a taller building.

  Timmons didn’t feel that Sue was in distress, but his anxiety rose like bile into his throat. She was surrounded by humans and small animals. Dogs, maybe rats. He didn’t like it one bit.

  He ran past a house, then a store, and couldn’t find where she was. The basements didn’t lead to her. He looked around in panic.

  A manhole cover.

  The sewers.

  He plunged a finger into the space and with his enhanced strength, he ripped the manhole cover off and threw it aside. He looked into the darkness and decided not to bother with the ladder. He jumped to the center of the hole with his hands over his head and dropped through, landing lightly less than fifteen feet down.

  He heard them down one of the tunnels. He ran, splashing through the water, making noise to let them know he was coming. Sue already knew. She could feel his presence.

  Timmons slowed as he approached a corner, around which light shone. He could hear rough voices up ahead. Young men sounding confident.

  “Show us your tits, blondie!”

  “I thought Canadians were supposed to have more manners,” Sue replied smoothly, not intimidated by the group.

  Timmons stopped, leaned around the corner, and saw six men of various ages and rats. Rats were everywhere within the tunnel. It struck the Werewolf as odd how the rats were acting like a trained pack.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” a younger man snarled. It was rare that people called their country by its name. Nothing like that mattered.

  Timmons strolled in.

  “You brought backup. Good for you,” another said flatly. He signaled with his arms, and three of the group separated and rushed toward Timmons. Half the rats came with them.

  Timmons hated playing defense.

  He attacked with reckless abandon, killing the three men in the span of two heartbeats. He grabbed the legs of one of the dead and started swinging the man around, sweeping the rats before him.

  Sue was taking care of business. When Timmons risked a look, two of the men were down, and she had the third by the throat. He had stopped the rats and was holding them in place. Timmons wished he’d thought of that.

  He threw the body from him and high-stepped to get behind Sue. The man continued to hold the rats back.

  She laughed and it was music to his ears. He leaned in to nibble on her neck. She tilted her head to let him. The man in her grasp looked shocked.

  “Take your vermin and leave. Thank your God that we let you live,” Sue ordered. The man nodded. She let go, and he ran down the tunnel with a small army of rats running after him.

  “That was magnificent, my love,” Timmons whispered. “I was so worried when you weren’t back with the others…”

  He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t the touchy-feely sort, but he’d grown soft in his old age.

  Or maybe he’d just gotten smarter. “I’m happy you’re okay, because I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he muttered.

  Sue had hugged him fiercely.

  Just like he was doing to her now. Timmons came back to himself, back to the present.

  She looked at him as his eyes glistened.

  “This has been the best twenty-five years of my life,” he whispered.

  EIGHT

  The Death of General Tsao

  Lieutenant Blackbeard sat next to the young sergeant in the pod as they transited from North Chicago to their next battle. The others in the platoon relaxed. Some slept. They’d be busy soon enough and would need their energy.

  Blackie decided that the sergeant needed an education.

  “You remember General Tsao?” Blackie asked. The younger man shook his head.

  “That fucker had an army when we cut the head off that snake by killing his Forsaken boss, but the general was a total candy-ass, wouldn’t meet the colonel to talk about things after their boys lost their heads,” Blackie said, nodding and thinking about the limited role the platoon had guarding the entrance to the mine while the colonel, the major, and their chosen few went into the mine.

  They hadn’t come out the way they went in. Most of them had been limping or dripping blood. But the mission had been accomplished.

  Mostly.

  “We had some captives, but they got a bit uppity. A couple got killed, but we let one go with a message. He didn’t come back, so we kept the others tied up and we left. Turns out, there was a general down there who told his boys that we were lying scum and that we would kill him if he came up the hill to talk with us.” Blackie wiped the sweat from his forehead, wondering why he felt hot. Usually the pods were the perfect temperature, no matter how they were flying, high, low, fast, or slow.

  The general and the army remained intact, but without the Forsaken to drive them, the colonel didn’t think they’d be a threat. It took five years before General Tsao found his groove.

  “Five years later, Akio comes and gets us to deal with this general and his army that was cruising through the countryside demanding that people worship him,” Blackie said, grinning.

  “I’m thinking that the colonel was less than amused by that,” the younger man said.

  “He wasn’t happy at all, but they had an army. The colonel didn’t care. We landed in the middle of the night and set up a sweet ambush between where General Tsao was camped and his next bunch of victims. We set up claymores on the sides of the road, heavy machine guns on the hillsides, even dialed up a couple of mortars. Those asswipes only had crossbows, but there was a shitload of them…” Blackie’s eyes unfocused as he stared at the jeep in front of him.

  “Sergeant Blackbeard,” the colonel whispered. Blackie jumped. It was pitch black outside, and he hadn’t heard the colonel approach. He hadn’t thought he’d been sleeping but checked his eyes with his fingers to make sure they were open.

  “They’ll arrive before first light, but you’ll see them. They’re carrying torches and lanterns. Let the first group get past you, there, and then listen for the claymores. When they go off, you need to fire that instant, into their ranks. Sweep the road. Keep your eyes peeled for them to organize and charge your position. Put Bennie into a position to pick off the leaders. Got it?”

  “Sir, if you pointed, I couldn’t see it. It’s pitch black out here!” Blackie replied.

  “Sorry about that,” Terry said, grabbing Blackie’s arm and physically chopping with it in the direction that Terry wanted Blackie and his squad to focus.

  “Got it.” Blackbeard dug in the dirt ahead of his position to make a trench that he could use to orient himself once it was light enough to see the line of sight past which the enemy would travel. His squad was responsible for everything from that line backward.

  The corporal looked to his right, but couldn’t see any of his people. He knew they were there because he’d put them in place when the moon was still out and he could see. He stood his rifle up against the edge of the small depression they occupied as a guide for him when he stumbled his way back to his position on the squad’s left flank.

  He carefully felt his way along the ground until he inadvertently ran into his first warrior.

  “Sorry. Sergeant Blackbeard here. That you, Thomas?” he asked. The man confirmed it, and Blackie repeated the guidance he’d gotten from the colonel. He could have told Thomas to pass it on, but then the message would have become convoluted by the last person. Blackie wanted to eliminate any chance of getting the orders wrong.

  He continued
from one warrior to the next until he reached the right flank. Then he retraced his steps, trying to avoid stepping on his people, but it didn’t work. He kicked and stumbled over every member of his squad on his way back to his position. Blackie almost fell on his rifle after one last trip.

  “Could you make any more noise?” Thomas whispered harshly.

  “Sorry,” Blackie mumbled, before settling in to wait. It was still too dark to see. Blackie played with his rifle, diddled with the dirt and rocks, and daydreamed.

  A hand grabbed him on the shoulder.

  “Dammit!” he exclaimed, and his hand convulsed around his rifle. He always kept his finger off the trigger except when he was ready to fire, for times just like that. The weapon was also on safe, but the best safety was not having a finger on the trigger.

  “Shhh,” Terry Henry cautioned. “They are coming. I figure it’ll be about fifteen minutes before all hell breaks loose. Be ready.”

  As silently as he arrived, the colonel disappeared into the night.

  “Thomas,” Blackie said in a low voice. “Enemy inbound. ETA fifteen mikes. Pass it down.”

  He heard the first couple people pass it from one to the other, then the sound was lost in the darkness as they cupped their hands to keep the sound from traveling beyond where it was intended.

  Almost immediately, Blackbeard saw the glow from the lanterns. They weren’t carrying torches as they had expected, only lanterns held on long poles. They walked quickly, as if in a hurry. Maybe they were behind schedule on their world domination efforts.

  The corporal snickered. This ambush is going to put a real crimp in your plans, he thought.

  His thumb rested lightly on the selector lever of his M4 carbine. The squad leaders had illumination rounds loaded and his first shot would light up the kill zone. The squad should already be firing at that point since the action would be initiated by activating the claymore mines.

  The claymores were command-activated, which meant that the colonel and a couple of the others were hiding somewhere down there, closer to the road. They’d trigger the device and it would send seven hundred steel balls through a sixty-degree arc to a range of one hundred yards.

  General Tsao’s army would have no defense against it. Blackie started to feel bad.

  He was just like the soldiers hiking along the road below. Follow orders. Trusting that their leader was doing the right thing.

  But they’d pillaged and done things that no decent army would do. He clenched his jaw and prepared to fire. They were his enemy and about to learn what real power was all about.

  The near simultaneous eruption of five claymore mines was both deafening and blinding. Blackie repeatedly blinked before sending the illumination round skyward. It arced high over the devastated enemy formation, popped, and the parachute deployed. They’d have a couple minutes of near daylight in which to identify and eliminate individual targets.

  Blackie’s squad started to fire slowly. No one could have anticipated the shock of the claymores. They’d never seen such a demonstration since they were careful about expending munitions during training. Ammunition and explosives were a finite resource.

  Once the area was well lit with the first of three rounds, fire increased significantly.

  The road below was a mass of the dead and dying. Lucky souls on the far side of the formation, having been shielded by the bodies of their brethren, were running back along the road.

  Jim’s squad was at the far end to seal off the kill zone. Grenades started to explode in the road before those fleeing.

  The general’s soldiers who aimed their crossbows into the hills died quickly. Many others threw their hands up in surrender. Some of them were shot, but the warriors reined in their fire when they realized that the enemy was giving up.

  Near the front of the formation, single shots from a high-powered rifle sounded with a regular rhythm as Bennie picked off the leadership.

  As the flare burned out, the firing had stopped. Someone sent up a second flare, but there were no hostiles left.

  Blackie called for his squad to cease fire and prepare to head down the hill. He saw the colonel walking up the road and heard him yelling at the soldiers to kneel and put their hands behind their heads. Aaron was behind him, translating his words into Chinese.

  Two soldiers charged the colonel, which was a huge mistake on their part. He caught the end of the spear and tore the weapon from the soldier’s hands. Terry used it to block the other man’s attack. When he was within arm’s reach, he punched one of them in the throat, vaulted over the man as he fell to his knees, and grabbed the second by his head.

  A quick twist broke the soldier’s neck and Terry let him drop. He continued to walk down the line, ordering those who surrendered to their knees. When he reached the armored carriage in which the general rode, he found the man with a single bullet hole in his head. His closest advisors had died in the same way.

  Terry turned to the darkness of the road ahead and gave a hearty two thumbs up to the platoon’s sniper, Corporal Bennie.

  Blackie returned to the present, where he was sitting in the pod next to Sergeant Nickles. Everyone was listening intently to the story. Some had been there, most had not. It had been twenty years ago that the Force de Guerre had destroyed the army of General Tsao.

  “Over a thousand soldiers walked down that road, one hundred seventeen lived to see the sunrise. That’s the story people need to know. Get on the wrong side of the new world, and the FDG is coming for you. Fuck those guys,” Blackie said without looking at anyone in the pod.

  NINE

  Kaeden and Marcie

  WWDE+44

  The spring morning sent a misty fog rolling in from the lake. Kae liked to walk along the shore in the morning, a habit he’d picked up from his father. Everything the colonel fought for was so people like Kaeden could enjoy the peace and serenity of the world around them without having to be afraid.

  Terry had insulated the people from influences from the outside.

  People. What Kae’s father meant was civilians, those not serving in the Force de Guerre.

  Kaeden knew what his father meant. Many bristled at the term, but they wouldn’t say anything to the man who had saved most of their lives by bringing them to North Chicago. And now they had running water and electricity, those things that soon came to be taken for granted. Kae wouldn’t forget. It was the FDG that made all things possible. And the FDG was Terry Henry Walton.

  Kae thought he could do more good as a member of the fishing fleet and a defender of all things Terry Henry from outside the FDG. There was an unspoken barrier, even though Kae’s father did everything he could to keep the warriors integrated with the community—working the fields, helping in the kitchen, moving, cleaning, and building. Nothing was beneath or beyond them.

  And still people bad-mouthed him. Terry sloughed it off. He didn’t shoot back. He defended their right to speak their mind. He also defended the right of people who didn’t want to listen to mindless drivel. Terry explained about the risks of a free society until he was blue in the face, but there were those who abused it on both sides.

  “More control!” some screamed.

  “We’re free, so why do we need a military?” others claimed. Kae found that he was better distancing himself from the whole conversation and simply leading by example. Enjoying the freedoms earned by the warriors, while living his life to the fullest and not bending a knee to anyone.

  A ripple in the water distracted him. Someone swimming. A little cool, he thought, but stepped to the water’s edge and dipped a finger in. Too cold!

  He looked at the swimmer, wondering why he would tolerate that instead of going for a run where the weather was perfect. Kae planned to pound out some miles, run to the power plant and back before the fishing boat headed out.

  “What are you looking at, perv?” Marcie called. Kae realized he’d been staring, but hadn’t been looking at her. Of course, it was Marcie. He saw the blond hair.<
br />
  Now. She was hard to miss.

  “Nothing! I was thinking about dad and the FDG.”

  “I’m nothing, you say? You’re looking at a naked woman and thinking about your dad. I was right. You are a perv.” She motioned for him to turn around so she could get out.

  He complied without question. When she cleared her throat, he turned around. She had her towel around her, but it didn’t cover much.

  Kae did a double-take.

  “When did we grow up?” he asked softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look incredible. I mean, it’s hard not to see how beautiful you were as we grew up, but I always thought of you as my younger sister. I am not thinking of you like that right now. My god, Marcie! You made my heart skip a beat.”

  Kae looked uncomfortable while talking. He wasn’t one to share what he was feeling. He’d learned that from his father, despite how much his mother tried to break them both from it. Kimber also kept her emotions inside, letting them stew until she exploded. Cory was helping her, even though she was younger than Marcie.

  Beautiful Marcie.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Marcie said softly as she moved closer. Kae’s breath caught as her towel dropped, seemingly of its own accord. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her cheek on his, whispering as her lips brushed Kae’s ear.

  “A man will chase a woman only until she catches him.”

  TEN

  The World According to Clovis

  So many people! I love people! the dog thought. Hear me roar in joy!

  The coonhound puppy barked and barked until he was picked up.

  Wow! I sing the song of my people and someone picks me up! Look at that food! I love being picked up!

  “Shh, little puppy. Look at those big eyes. Who’s a good boy?” said a woman with blue eyes and a silver streak in her otherwise black hair.

  Who? I have to know! Who’s a good boy? Clovis asked, whimpering, engrossed in anticipation. Ooh. Have to pee. Ah, all better now. Where were we?