A Shepherd's Calling (What Comes After Book 2) (19 page)

“
How many you figure?” The Hunter was looking at the ground, tracing his finger into something on the wet earth.

Nadeau shook his head. “Hard to say. I'm seeing two separate prints and whole lot of disturbance. Some kind of tussle, maybe someone fell. And here,” he pointed to a darkened scuff, “at least a couple folks were moving in close proximity. Since the tracks are on top of each other...”

The older man finished where the marine had trailed off. “No way to be sure. All told, though... think we're looking at more than three distinct footprints. Agreed?”

This time, Nadeau nodded. “At least, yeah.”

Standing from his couch, Chris asked the next logical question. “Who do they belong to? And how many more are we dealing with?”

“
That's what we're hoping to find out. Anything to report?” The Major's tone suggested he was eager to continue moving.

“
Not yet, sir. Confirmed we're following at least three people, very likely more. Haven't seen any bodies or signs of direct combat.” Nadeau looked at Chris. “This guy's a hell of tracker.”

Chris shrugged off the compliment. “They're trying to cover their tracks. Whoever they've got on the job is piss-poor at it, though.”

Abruptly, the two men returned to following the trail.

Tom looked at Vargas. “At best, they've got forty minutes on us. I could take Janessa ahead and the two of us could cut them off, harry them back to you.”

The officer eyed Tom critically before watching where the other men had gone. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. DuPuis. Given the situation, I'm against further dividing our force. Also can't say I'm keen on letting you get too far away from us, either.”

Tom was taken aback. “I said I was going with you. If you don't think I'm going to run, why bring it up?” When the Major did not reply, Tom pressed further. “Do you question the tactical soundness of the proposal, or do you doubt my ability to do it? I understand you and your men don't
need
the help, but I'll remind you that none of us are under your command. Helping people is what I do and that's what I'm
trying
to do here.” He had more to say, but he was cut off.

Vargas turned to face Tom. “I don't doubt your commitment, willingness or ability, especially after seeing you act back at the trucks. Having been out here, on your own, you know there's always a chance it doesn't go the way you plan. Regardless of how well you plan and what you have at your disposal. It's
because
of what you did there that I'm unwilling to let you go. I'm certain you are accustomed to being a 'hero', for lack of a better term. Acting in other peoples best interests, putting their lives ahead of yours, and so on and so forth.” He struggled before he continued. “For all I know, that could be the reason Command offered you return status. There are so few people willing or able to do what you seem capable of, and for you to fall out here, on my watch...” Vargas shook his head. “If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have to explain to my superiors why the V.I.P. that I was assigned to bring back safe and sound is in a body bag, instead.”

Please
. Tom heard it in the other man's voice.
Please, don't do this
. Then it hit him.
This is his job: he's me. He and I do much of the same thing: we save other people. In very different ways and perhaps for very different reasons... But we both want to help other people
. Suddenly, Tom felt an empathy with the man he had never before experienced with anyone else. Of course, there was a shared understanding with the other Shepherds and a bond with his instructors and elders in New Mont. But never in all his years outside, had he
ever
encountered a stranger who did the same thing he was sworn to do: help other people. Even through the wonder of realization, Tom felt confusion at being asked to occupy the role of protected rather than protector. He struggled to abate the numbness that followed that understanding.

Rather than continue to delay them, Tom nodded mutely and began walking. He would struggle through his emotional trial while they followed the others. From the corner of his eye, the young man saw Janessa walking just to his right, watching him carefully.

* * * * *

“
Looks like there was a struggle just ahead. Tracks leading away indicate eight or more before they resume their north by northwest course. Looks like they went into a small clearing with a decent sized house. We'll have to get closer to verify it.” Nadeau looked uncomfortable. Though he'd only known the man two days, Tom had a feeling this was an unusual state of being for the marine. At first glance, Tom had felt him to be the quintessential “strong and silent” type.

Eyes flickering to Tom, the sniper took a breath. He started to speak twice before he finally got it out. “That's not all, sir.”

When the Sergeant did not immediately continue, the officer arched an eyebrow. “What else is there?”

Nadeau glanced again at Tom, then leaned close to the Major and lowered his voice. “Eby is in the clearing, sir.”

The two men regarded each other a long moment before the Sergeant shook his head. Vargas lowered his head and put his face in his hands. Tom could hear the officers breathing amplified in cupped palms. Several seconds passed before the Major raised his head.

“
Let's move,” he said quietly.

They traveled several dozen yards, first around a mound of earth and stone, with tall, smooth ferns growing between the rocks. After that, an old game trail led them to the edge of the tree line. Chris lay behind a spruce, facing what, from where Tom stood, appeared to be a clearing. Foliage and shrubbery presented too much of a barrier to be certain at this distance. Another few steps brought them close enough to make out something that sent Davis forward in a surge of rage.

“
Davis, where are you going?” Nadeau said while himself moving, quick steps carrying him to his comrade. “Where are you going?”

Though he'd moved with urgency, Nadeau would not catch Davis before he left the tree line. Seeing this, Chris pushed himself up and grabbed the marine by the shoulders just as Nadeau and Vargas reached them.

Davis wrenched himself from Chris' grasp. Turning to face the old teacher, he hissed, “Keep your damn hands off me.”

The Hunter retracted both hands, palms out and kept them up while he stepped back. While his stance suggested peaceful compliance, his eyes told a different story. Tom hurried, but that was the extent of the confrontation. To be on the safe side, he kept an eye on the men and listened to the conversation happening two yards away.

“
We haven't checked the whole area yet, just twenty or thirty yards in either direction. We need to be careful. They left him as a message, hoping this is how we would react. Just charge right in, no plan, not ready, not thinking.” Nadeau sounded frustrated.

The Major confirmed Nadeau's assessment. “The Sergeant is right. This is exactly what they want, whoever
they
are.” Vargas put a hand on Davis's shoulder. “He's already gone. The only thing left to do now is kick the ever-loving Christ out of them. Without losing anyone else.” The officer was emphatic about the last part.

Davis's hands were clenched into shaking fists, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The situation seemed far less agitated, so Tom returned his attention to the clearing ahead and for an instant, he almost wished he had not. In that clearing, on an elm twenty yards from the tree line, Private Eby swung in slow, lazy circles. The body moved so smoothly it almost seemed casual. There was nothing casual about the mask of pain and fear frozen on his face, however. His eyes now forever open, staring at nothing, mouth agape as he fought for breath he could not take or a scream he could not make. The fingers of his left hand were fully trapped by the noose around his neck, but his right arm dangled limp at his side. A full turn of his body revealed the cause for the arm's uselessness: an arrow shaft, broken near the fletching, protruded from the dead man's shoulder.

As gruesome as it was, it paled in comparison to the other strangeness that surrounded the hanged marine. A large, two story house dominated the closest part of the clearing, sided with discolored wood that desperately needed to be re-stained. The windows of the first floor were completely covered over with thick boards that displayed, either burned in black or painted in white, a cross. The windows of the second floor were similarly covered, but differed from those on the first floor in that each of them, though closed, had some kind of opening; hinged sections, sliding panels or the like. Two chimneys rose from the roof, though only the closer of the two had smoke wafting from it. If the porch on the right side of the building was any indication, the main door was there.

Atop the porch roof and scattered around the clearing, crosses of all sizes littered the open ground. Some were small, as would be found in a graveyard. Others were much larger, invoking images of crucifixion. Whatever the size, they were all planted in the earth and arranged haphazardly, with no discernible symmetry or pattern. A path, leading from the main door of the house to the opposite side of the clearing, was quickly lost in shade and greenery, but looked entirely free of wooden constructs.

Seeing the many crosses, the Shepherd realized something: of all the Turned they had encountered on the way to this place, the few branded with crosses also wore clothes. Not in the manner of proper dress, but each of them had a tattered loin cloth, a thread-bare apron, shredded remnants of pants... something to cover sensitive or intimate parts of their bodies.

That cannot be a coincidence
, he thought.

6.1

The small group circled the clearing, well inside the tree line, and made several stops to check for new vantages on the house. In addition to the house, they noticed a barn and a couple of smaller outbuildings. The barn, on the west end of the clearing and somewhat removed from the house, seemed in better repair than the smaller structures. The two outbuildings were likely sheds, though one was large enough that it could have housed a couple of people in a cramped sort of way. Like the house, all of the windows were completely covered up and the doors, thick and sturdy looking, were secured with large, heavy pad locks.

They also found the area to be heavily trafficked, and not just by humans. In some places, it was practically impossible to separate the barefoot prints of the Turned from the boot tread of those they might have pursued, or vice versa. The sheer volume of tracks prevented the group from knowing how old the trail sign might be, but left no question as to it's direction: coming or going, the prints went through the middle of the clearing, possibly right past the house or barn.

Returning to where they had first seen the house, they began making a plan. Since the southern side of the house offered the least amount of exposure, they decided to make their approach from that direction. Once they had gained the side of the house, they would enter the building and secure it. If the missing marines were not inside, the small band would exit the house, re-enter the forest and circle toward the back of the barn before sweeping that structure. They finalized the plan with another few minutes of discussion.

“
So, how are we entering the house?” Nadeau was looking at Davis and Turner while he asked this question. It appeared he was checking that the other two men were doing as they had been instructed; Davis watching the path they had come from, Turner watching the clearing they would be moving to.

“
Side door. It's closer and only in line-of-sight of the small shed, and since that one has no windows, we should be clear. If we move around to the front, we'll be visible to anyone in the other buildings. We can try to go in through the windows, but we'll have to be quiet. I suspect they'll be fastened pretty tight, as well.” The Major looked at Tom. “Are your people staying out here? Maybe keep an eye on things while we take care of business?”

Tom shook his head. “We didn't come to watch you work. I appreciate that you'd like to keep us out of harm's way, but none of us scare easily. That's a big house. The quicker we go through it, the quicker we can get back to the others.”

“
I'm not too proud to turn down the assistance. Thank you, Mr. DuPuis.” The Major said. “Everyone clear on our entry order?” They sounded off one by one, beginning with Davis and ending with Janessa. “Remember: check your targets, confirm it's an unknown before firing. It's not uncommon for opposing forces to use hostages as shields or distractions. Any questions?” Hearing none, the Vargas jacked his thumbs over his shoulders, indicating the house behind him. “Let's get it done. In positions, people: moving in 10 seconds.”

Breaking from their huddle, the small group spread out so they stood a several yards apart. The idea was that if they were far enough apart, anyone watching the forest would only be able to take one or two shots at them before they reached the house. Seconds passed and the officer made one last look up and down the line centered around him. He pointed at the house and called in a stage whisper, “Go.”

Everyone, including the Major, took off at a sprint. There was only a few yards with foliage, shrub and other cover before they were thrust into the clearing. Tom focused on the wall of the house. He made it the center of his universe, his heart's single desire and raced toward it as though it were the only thing on God's green earth he had ever wanted. The knee-high grass he ran through offered no cover, only amplified the feeling of nakedness he felt, streaming toward his goal. Even over the sound of his own breathing, the blood pumping in his ears, feet pounding wetly on soft earth, he heard the thump, but didn't process it immediately. Through the swishing of wet grass on his pant legs, Tom thought someone in the group had fallen wildly out of step. When he finally reached the house and turned to press his back to the wall, it was the absence of these sounds that drew his attention to the thirty or so yards they had crossed. As he scanned the grass, he remembered hearing rapid contacts and a heavy thud.