A Shepherd's Calling (What Comes After Book 2) (16 page)

Bullet holes, several of them rather large. Seeing them, the Shepherd turned to Chris. “You and Ben should wait out here with Toby. I'll take Janessa and check inside with the marines.”

Hearing his name, the boy fidgeted a bit but did not stray from Chris's side. The old teacher, for his part, merely nodded and put an arm around Ben's shoulder. Toby, on the other hand, approached the Shepherd and pitched his voice low.

“
You sure you don't want me to go with you? I'd feel better if I could help keep an eye on my big sister.” He seemed every bit as much pushing as he was pleading.

“
Janessa can take care of herself,” the Shepherd replied. In a lower tone, he added, “I'd feel better knowing someone else is with Ben, in case he tries to bolt. A lot has happened to him and he's lost nearly everything in the last few weeks. Just because he's following along now doesn't mean things won't change and if they do, it'll be in the blink of an eye.”

Toby waited a moment, looking him in the eye. Seeing the decision would stand, Janessa's brother took a step back. “Alright.” He walked over to join Ben and Chris and when he had, Toby called back. “We right here, then. You need anything, just holler.”

Tom strode to the massive doors and stopped before them, dwarfed by the tall wooden constructs. It appeared they could only be opened from inside the small compound. Fortunately, they were already cracked about a foot wide. Taking one of the doors by its lip, he planted his feet and heaved. The door groaned, shook and wobbled, but at last yielded to his strength and persistence. Tom brought the swinging plane of wood to a halt when there was space enough for him and the others to pass through. What he saw on the other side of the doors saddened and angered him.

Two bodies lay in the grass beyond, perhaps twenty feet inside, while a third was curled in a fetal position just inside the door. Tom thought the one closest to the door had been a man, though it was difficult to tell due to the massive damage done to the head and chest. The only weapon he bore was a large hunting knife, still sheathed in his belt, and he was dressed in a combination of old, patched clothes, skins and hides: the garb of a long-term survivor. Further in, the body of a man and woman lay close to each other in an awkward sprawl. The woman was on her stomach, a massive wound in her back, face turned to the side and pressed into the earth. A few yards from her outstretched hand, a broken rifle rested in the grass. The man was on his side, one hand covering a hideous opening on his belly while the other seemed to reach toward the woman. His head was missing.

All was quiet inside the makeshift courtyard. Tom took another look at the four houses: he saw no one at the windows, on the roofs, or near the corners of the buildings. He doubted they would find any living persons, let alone hostile ones, but the need for caution was ingrained in him. At last, Tom motioned the others to enter.

When the Major stopped beside him, Tom asked, “Did you notice the woman and the man by the door are missing an ear?”

Vargas made a face. “I did. It's making Turner queasy, but he'll get it all. I figure they died about a day ago, maybe two.”

As though proving this statement, the two men watched the radio operator go to each body and stand over it. Then crouching, the corporal seemed to speak while pointing to the injuries and indicating the position of the body. Though white faced and thin-lipped, he did as he had been instructed. From where the Shepherd and the Major watched, Turner's words were a fluctuating murmur, too quiet to make out.

“
Let's see what we can see.” Tom was somber as he moved to the first building.

“
Those houses won't search themselves.” The Major tapped the corporal on the shoulder and directed him to follow Tom. Janessa was close behind the two marines.

The first house they checked told most of the story. While the other three structures each bore signs of forced entry and a tactical sweep, none of them had bullet holes around the windows, or through the shutters and exterior doors. Just inside the front door of that first house, a man lay face down atop a sheet of dried, dark rust. The number of wounds on his back, arms and legs suggested the blood he was in to be his own. Several chairs and even a table lay broken and spread around the door, but those objects seemed an insufficient barricade against whomever had sought entry.

At the far end of the front room, another table lay on its side. It was angled in such a way to protect one corner from attackers coming through the front door, and perhaps a bit from anyone in the kitchen. Four bodies lay stacked like cord wood behind the wooden shield, each shot multiple times, each without shoes and like the others in the camp, each was missing an ear. The body by the back door was in a similar state, as was the one at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. The last two bodies were in what was likely the master bedroom, at the foot of a four-post bed. While suffering the same mutilation as the rest, these two had apparently been killed with a single round to the head, instead of several rounds in the chest and stomach.

After checking the basement and noting the debris there, as well as a root cellar saturated with the ammonia-laden reek of uric acid, the small group reconvened in the front room.

“
They knew it was comin'.” Janessa, on the now-righted coffee table, sat with her .30-06 across her lap, barrel towards the open front door.

Turner agreed. “Didn't make much of a difference, though.” The radioman sat on the other end of the table, his carbine slung across his chest. He looked and sounded miserable.

Tom looked at Vargas. “So, you figure the aggressors somehow convinced these people to open the gate, shot the security detail in the courtyard and then used covering or suppressing fire to advance to the houses?”

The Major nodded. “Put a grenade through the window. Concussive, most likely. Used det cord or a small shaped-charge to blow the door. Came in hard and fast, likely with another team having entered by similar means through the back door. One team went upstairs and dealt with the folks up there, the other opened the basement door, threw another grenade and followed after it went off. That's how I'd have done it, if it were necessary.”

“
Given the smoke in the air and the shelves, that root cellar door probably seemed just another part of the wall. Whoever was in there waited a while, hours, maybe a day, before coming out and taking off.” Tom stopped, temporarily distracted while he examined the empty shell casing in his hand.

“
5.56,” Vargas said. He produced a casing from his pocket, held it up for Tom to see. “This one's 7.62.”

“
Everything we found here was one or the other, sir.” Turner rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “No other brass and no weapons. No sign of a defense, other than barricaded doors and the way those tables are arranged.”

“
But they aren't yours, right? The bullets, I mean. I thought those were military.” Janessa's concern was obvious.

“
It is,” the Shepherd said. “5.56mm is standard issue for the U.S. military. If memory serves, it's also one of the standard issue rounds for N.A.T.O. and U.N. forces. So is 7.62mm. But the Major and his men didn't do this.” The Shepherd looked at Vargas. “Did you?”

“
No. We did not.” The officer's jaw worked. “If those Blue Bonnets are Russian, they'd have access to weapons chambered for both calibers.”

Turner looked up, his face long. Voice heavy with skepticism, he asked, “Major, you don't really think Peacekeepers were involved in whatever happened here?”

Vargas leveled his gaze at the radio operator. “Who else has a vehicle out here?”

Further discussion was prohibited by the distant, hollow clap of gunfire.

The four of them hurried back to where Chris, Ben and Toby waited just beyond the gate. While they ran, Tom could hear Vargas calling over what must be a personal radio. “Red Two, sit rep.”

If there was a response, Tom did not hear it. Instead of waiting for an explanation, he hurried on, Janessa right behind him. Rounding the corner of the gate, they saw the others crouching near the wall, apparently unhurt.

Stopping beside Chris, Tom asked his former mentor, “How many?”

The old teacher pointed due south, in the general direction from where they had come. “Four, maybe five.”

“
Near the trucks,” Tom thought aloud.

“
Most likely. Nothing else of note in that direction except a pond and the cabin we stayed in last night. Both places are over two miles from here and those shots sounded closer than that.” Leaning closer to Tom and lowering his voice, Chris asked a question of his own. “What happened in there?”

“
I'll tell you later.” Tom heard quick steps behind him and turned to see Vargas and Turner emerge from behind the wall.

“
Several shots, possibly close to where we left the trucks. Turner can't raise Blue team on the radio. Nadeau and Davis are waiting for us on the path back. Unless you have pressing business in the lodge, I recommend we return to the vehicles with all possible speed. There's little, if anything, we can do for this place.” The Major's voice was strained, as though he were consciously reminding himself Tom and the others were not required to follow his orders.

He's right
, Tom thought.
We haven't found any survivors and while we should check the lodge to be thorough, there's been no activity from it so far. Why put the vehicles and the men guarding them at risk?

“
We'll follow you back,” he said to Vargas.

The Major again spoke into that nigh-invisible radio. “Red Two, this is Red Actual. En route with package. Be ready to move when we reach you.” To the Shepherd: “We're going.”

The two marines began jogging back to the forest with the civilians keeping pace behind them. Tom was grateful for the distraction, as it would offer him more time to prepare for the questions that were no doubt brewing in the minds of his other companions. The small group reached the tree line quickly, where they were promptly joined by the other members of Nadeau and Davis.

Stopping only long enough to speak, Vargas addressed Tom. “I'm leaving Turner to escort you and the rest of your group. You led us out here, so you can find your way back, correct?” When Tom nodded, Vargas spoke to Turner. “Stay with them, Corporal. When you're fifty yards from the vehicles, find a place to hole up and wait for us to give the all clear.” With that, the Major, Nadeau and Davis took off at a run. They were gone before the radio operator had time to object.

Tom and the others walked for a short while, paying more attention to their surroundings. However improbable, it was possible that whatever happened near the trucks was only a part of some other plan. Perhaps another group had followed the marines and was taking action now that their force was divided. Perhaps another community had sought Respite and encountered the marines first. Whatever the reason, Tom felt caution would best suit the group and acted in accordance with that impulse.

Turner did not seem to feel the same. Less than a minute after the other marines had gone, the radio operator asked, “Are you planning on walking the whole way there? You
did
hear the gunshots, right?”

“
We'll pick up speed presently,” the Shepherd said.

The Hunter spoke, his statement quickly following the Shepherd's. “We're giving your team enough time to put some ground between us. They didn't move off just to get to the rest of your unit quickly. They were looking to minimize the risk to us, since we're moving toward a potential hot zone. They'll able to move more quietly if we're not tromping along right behind them.”

Rebuked, Turner was quiet even after they picked up speed. It was only a few minutes later when, after putting a hand alongside his ear, he called to Tom in a stage whisper. “Hey, we'd better slow down.”

The Shepherd did so. “Why should we do that? I thought speed was paramount.” His spoke at a volume similar to the marine's.

Turner shook his head, hand still pressed to his ear. “The Major didn't say why, just that we should do it and proceed with caution.” Then he moved his hand from ear back to his carbine, raising the weapon to a ready position.

Janessa and Toby began readying their rifles, but stopped when Tom looked at them and shook his head. Pointing to the radioman, he indicated the carbine, specifically. “His weapon is suppressed, ours are not. If anything happens, let him act first: his shots are far less likely to attract attention. Fire if you need to, but
only
if you need to.”

Tom's awareness moved to another level of alertness, almost preternatural. Now moving at a walk with eyes peeled, it took the Shepherd only seconds to find something unexpected on their path. Just twenty yards ahead, he saw Davis crouched between a bush of arrowwood and a small pine. The marine was facing the approaching group and raised a finger to his lips, then pointed. Following the line described by Davis' finger, Tom saw what had aroused the marine's concern.

A lean, muscular body, naked and filthy, lay sprawled across the mossy ground beneath the branches of the pine. The figure had been shot, several times in the chest and at least once in the head. The Turned seldom traveled alone, so it made perfect sense for the marines to seek cover while waiting and searching for the other monsters. The Shepherd could hardly fault the Major for using him and his group to lure the other Turned out of hiding, or to draw the fiends to an open location. That understanding and tacit acceptance did little to assuage Tom's dissatisfaction at being used as bait.