Featured Snippets

Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 5

Nomad Mortis: Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 8

Nomad Mortis – SNIPPET 05

UNEDITED

Terry Henry Walton Chronicles, Book 8

By Craige Martell and Michael Anderle

“Pull that into place, lame ass!” Shonna growled as she struggled with the oversized valve. Merrit was trying to loosen a bracket to align the pipe to the flange.

“Fuck off! The pipe is warped and the shit isn’t cooperating,” Merrit shot back.

“There’s only one stupid fucker here who isn’t cooperating.” Shonna glared at her mate.

Ted strolled in, looked for a moment, then walked twenty yards down the line where he cranked three times on a jack supporting the pipe’s elbow. The end in Merrit’s hand dropped and slid into the flange.

Merrit grunted an apology as he clamped the two ends together to prepare them for welding.

Terry waited out of the way until the cursing and glaring was finished.

“Pack up. We need to go,” Terry told them.

Shonna slowly turned and fixed him with an angry stare. “No. Can. Do,” she said, emphasizing each word. Terry raised his eyebrows. She raised hers in response.

“Sorry, hon. Duty calls,” Merrit apologized as he set his tools on the floor and hurried away without looking at Shonna. He motioned with his head that Terry should follow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the sounds of the power plant.

“Run!” Merrit yelled as he bolted for the door. Terry didn’t question it. At least he was able to get one of the two. If there were only three Werewolves where they were going, they would have plenty of horsepower. He had forgotten to send for Gene, but figured Char found him. She was the alpha and this was her mission.

Terry stopped when he reached the jeep, but Merrit had already raced past and was running down the road. Terry started the jeep. When he looked at the power plant, Shonna was there, watching. He waved and smiled.

She reared back and hiked a wrench in his direction. He floored it just in time. The wrench clanged off the roll bar behind his head.

Terry spun the tires as he aimed the jeep’s nose toward the road. He gunned it until he caught up with Merrit. “What in the fuck did you do, and how in the holy hell did I get roped into your mess?” Terry called as he was even with the Werewolf.

Merrit motioned, and Terry slowed. Merrit hopped in when his pace matched.

“Whew! That was a close one.” He laughed and slapped Terry on the shoulder.

“If she’s still mad at me after we get back, I’ll beat the snot out of you,” Terry grumbled.

“She’ll be fine. I want to get a dog, and it went downhill from there,” Merrit explained.

“It better be fine, because if she throws another wrench at me, I’m beating both of your asses!” Terry kept his eyes forward to watch the road.

It was two miles from the power plant to the new barracks and landing zone. Terry made the return drive in less than three minutes.

When he pulled up to the LZ, Char, Sue, and Timmons were waiting. He left the jeep on the old road between the barracks and the athletic fields. “Did we lose somebody?” Terry asked.

“They went to get Gene,” Char replied. “Didn’t you go for more?”

“Merrit has issues. I thought it best not to bring both of them. Together. In the same vehicle. Anywhere near me,” Terry explained ambiguously.

Char gave Merrit the stink eye.

“They’re in cahoots,” Terry said out the side of his mouth. Terry covered his ears.

With one last glare, Char headed for the pod. The others followed.

Together the four opened the pod which was sitting next to the materiel that would be used to build the hangar.

“Don’t you have something to do with that?” Terry asked, looking at Timmons.

“Sure, but I’ll wait until Shonna is in a better mood,” he answered, looking purposely at Merrit.

“You knew, and you let me go up there? I almost got a wrench in the head, thank you very much.”

Char looked at all of them. “Shut your mutton holes and listen up!” she ordered, glowering. “We’re going after the three Weres we sensed in Kentucky. The pack has gotten too small and we have to grow. The war on the Forsaken is going to take all we have and then some.”

Terry wanted to ratchet up the operations tempo. Removing the Forsaken as a threat to humanity would take more of a physical presence than the FDG currently had. Besides adding warriors, he knew it was even more important to add Weres.

What better to fight in the Unknown World than those who made it their home?

The FDG’s human warriors were important in dealing with the Forsaken’s minions, the slaves, and the supporting cast. The warriors could be equipped and trained to fight the Were folk, the Forsaken, and the enhanced. As long as the FDG had numbers and firepower, along with a certain amount of silver, they would always be a force to be reckoned with.

Terry thought of the FDG as a force of nature. Their determination gave them an edge. Their leadership was far superior to anything the Forsaken could manage. Leading through fear wouldn’t bring out the best. Terry only put others in charge of his people who lived up to the same standards as he did.

Honor. Courage. Commitment.

Military words from a long time past, but they still applied. Justice never went out of vogue, not for Terry Henry Walton.

Integrity in all things. Integrity first.

Terry looked away as he didn’t want anyone to see him questioning himself, wondering about his motivations. Kirkus made him angry, but was he unleashing his anger in a healthy direction? His moral compass guided them all.

Char was with him as she didn’t want to relive that day. She was angry, too, murderously so. They were all on edge.

Shonna had thrown a wrench at him. That wasn’t about a dog. It was about Terry Henry Walton and his moral compass, always demanding something from the pack.

But it was their purpose to follow the alpha. He probably should have stopped the jeep and dragged her out of the plant. Members of the pack couldn’t be allowed to be so belligerent.

And he was angry all over again. “I’ll deal with Shonna personally when we get back,” Terry snarled. Timmons raised his hands in surrender. He wasn’t going to get in the way of an attitude adjustment.

To connect with Craig Martelle and to see his other books: http://www.craigmartelle.com

 

About the author

Craig Martelle

Visit Craig’s web page, craigmartelle.com for the latest posts and updates or find him on Facebook, Author Craig Martelle. Send an email to craig@craigmartelle.com to join his mailing list for the latest on new releases, information on old releases, and anything related to his books.

Enough 3rd person – this is me writing to you, the incredible readers who have stumbled upon my stuff and then liked it. The great reviews, the emails, the notes, the Facebook comments – all of it keeps me writing because you are so supportive.

I grew up in Iowa, joined the Marine Corps and got to see the best and the worst that the world had to offer. No matter where I went, I always had a book with me. Thanks to 21st Century technology, I now have hundreds of books loaded on my phone and computer at any point in time. This breakthrough allows us to binge read our favorites. How many books would I have read on deployments and at home had I not had to have a physical book with me. I paced myself so I wouldn’t finish it too quickly.

We aren’t encumbered like that now. I love the works of Andre Norton, Anne McCaffrey, JRR Tolkien, Robert E. Howard, and so many more. I have been compared to Andre Norton and that is humbling – she was an incredible author with a huge list of novels to her credit. With every new book, I aspire to live up to the comparisons to make you, my readers happy that you’ve picked up my latest book.

Through a bizarre series of events, I ended up in Fairbanks, Alaska. I never expected to retire to a place where golf courses are only open for four months out of the year. But that’s the way it is. It is off the beaten path. My wife and I get to watch the northern lights from their driveway. Our dog has lots of room to run. And temperatures reach fifty below zero. We have from three and a half hours of daylight in the winter to twenty-four hours in the summer.

It’s all part of the give and take of life. If we didn’t have those extremes, then everyone would live in the sub-arctic.