A Shepherd's Calling (What Comes After Book 2) (25 page)

The room took on the hushed aura often found in libraries, churches and recovery wards.

“
God says we are all one flock, his flock. If that is true, and it must be, for it was He who said so, then the Lost are part of me. And I am lost; a part of them, as well. If we are the same, and share this world as mirrors of one another, we need not be at odds with each other. The shadow cannot exist without something to cast it.”

Tom shook his head. “You really believe we have anything in common with those things out there? Those things that exist to hunt and feed?” He pointed to the window. “You think a single one of them could understand your sentiment toward them, let alone share that feeling of connection?”

Darrow blinked and looked at the young man with placid, knowing eyes. “I know they have a purpose. Like dogs have a purpose. Like you and I have a purpose. I don't need to understand it or approve of it to know that it is God's will. What else could it be?”

The Shepherd offered no argument. Even if the question had not been rhetorical, he could hardly disagree with it.

Darrow continued. “However difficult, however trying, the strong shall take up the burdens of the weak for the betterment of all. This is way of the Lord and those that follow Him. Long ago, the faithful took up arms in the name of God and were painted with a cross to sanctify their crusade to cleanse the holy land. I have adorned those who protect us, however inadvertently or unwillingly, with the same sign. I hope it will have the same effect on them as it did for the crusaders.”

“
What effect was that?” Tom slowly rose from his crouch, easing the ache in his legs.

“
Anyone bearing a cross on their shield that died while fighting to retake Jerusalem was assured a place in the Kingdom of God. Their soul was spared Judgment and instead went straight to Heaven. They died doing God's will, so they were forgiven their trespasses.” Darrow's tone said he was still lost in thought.

“
Every wrong they had done? Each and every sin?”

“
According to the histories.” The captive closed his mouth with a clicking of teeth. Darrow turned pointedly away from the young man.

Tom took this silence as Darrow having spoken his fill, so the Shepherd moved away from the cross-branded man. Chris and Vargas followed, and Tom looked at each man before speaking.

“
This is a mess,” he said at last.

Vargas blinked. “Which part? The one where we're surrounded by a mob of flesh-eating monsters, or the one where we're effectively held hostage by a domestic terrorist with apocalyptic Christian ideologies and sympathies?”

Chris grunted noncommittally.

“
I've got an idea on how to get us out of here.” Tom paused. “No one's going to like it.”

Chris arched an eyebrow at his former student.

Vargas made a face. “I'm all ears.”

Tom took a breath. “I head back to the trucks, get some pheromone canisters and a noise box and set them up around the barn. During the confusion, we get the other marines out and make it back to the vehicles.”

The three men were quiet for several seconds. “You're right,” Chris said at last. “I don't like it.”

“
Neither do I,” the Major confirmed.

“
Do either of you have an option?” Tom waited a full five count, looking back and forth at each of the middle-aged men; neither of them spoke. “We're agreed, then.”

“
You can't go alone,” Vargas said.

Tom shook his head. “You're right. I'd need someone to go with me. Not only do I likely need someone to help me carry the stuff back, I don't know what it looks like. To that end, I could take Turner.” He looked at Chris. “If you can recognize them, I'd rather have you with me.”

The old teacher looked at the officer. “We're looking for modified smoke grenades and a wireless transmitter, probably the size of a desktop speaker?”

The Major nodded. “It's over two miles, round trip. What you're bringing back won't be that heavy, but you're still looking at making a bit of a run.”

“
We've got that in us,” Tom said with a slight smile, looking at his former mentor. “And the return trip, with you and everyone else in tow. Will you discourage our pursuers?”

“
Absolutely,” Vargas said. “But why you? Why can't I go, or Turner? Your safety is the whole reason my men are out here, Mr. DuPuis. I'd rather not put you back in harm's way just when we had you somewhere less dangerous.”

“
Whoever we send for the equipment will need to set it up and attempt the rescue.” Tom looked back at Darrow, still sitting quietly at the window. “On the off chance we need to open a dialogue with the men in the barn, it's probably better if I do the talking.”

The Major caught the younger man's glance to their captive. “Think they'll listen?”

The Shepherd looked at the marine and nodded, steel in his eyes. “If they don't, I speak a language they will understand.”

Tom and Chris checked their gear, ensuring packs and rifles were secured for the quick descent. Tom had his own gear and Nadeau's pack, while the old teacher had Nadeau's sniper rifle in addition to his normal pack and weapons. Chris had asked to bring the extra kit, as the older man felt he would be better able to provide the necessary cover if he had the fallen marine's rifle.
“Quickest reload is in another gun,”
as he and Sam would often say.

The two men stood at the window farthest from the barn. Behind them, Janessa kept watch on Darrow, now seated in the middle of the room. Vargas and Turner each stood in front of one of the other windows, waiting for the Shepherd to get in position. When Tom climbed into the window, both hands and one foot on the sill, the marines acted.

Vargas leaned out of his window, peppering the front of the barn with fire. Rounds landed on the frame of the loft window, only a couple penetrating the darkness beyond. A few also spattered around the open window in the center of the barn door. These shots, striking a solid surface and creating small puffs of wood and dust, were sent to their target deliberately. The intent was for the men in the barn to seek cover, or at least break their focus on the house. This would better allow Tom and Chris time to make good their escape.

Turner popped out from the window long enough to fire a few rounds at the Turned still lurking beneath them. When those were down, the Corporal tracked out across the yard, looking for the first beast that would approach Tom when he was finally on the ground outside the house.

Climbing down, Tom had eyes only for the wretches beneath him. Faces turned up at him, twisted with a grotesque mix of anticipation and hate, he watched the light go out of their eyes when dime-sized holes appeared in their heads and chests. The horrors fell together, as though each sought support from the other in the moment of their demise. The Shepherd pushed himself through the window the moment the fiends hit the ground, landing only inches from the bodies.

Once on the ground, Tom stood and raised his arms toward the window. Chris dropped Nadeau's pack to him. The Shepherd had not understood why the dead marine's pack was necessary, but didn't feel the need to question his former mentor. In Tom's mind, if things were going so badly that Chris needed to reload the marine's sniper rifle with the loose ammo in the pack, none of them would likely be leaving the place alive. Bringing it along was a small thing to do and they would only carry it for a few minutes, so Tom had raised no objection.

Catching the pack, Tom quickly stepped around the corner of the house, obscuring himself from the barn. In a perfect world, he would have been able to set down the pack, retrieve his own rifle and make ready to cover Chris while the other man descended.

But this was not a perfect world, and the Shepherd knew it. He was no sooner around the corner than he very nearly ran into a beast, crouched low along the side of the house. The Turned looked at him with something akin to relief and feral joy. It sprang forward and the Shepherd thrust the pack in his hands at the creature's face and, stepping to his left, spun clear of the monster. During the motion, he drew his kukri and brought the long knife down in a sweeping arc behind him. The movement of his spin, coupled with his swing, guided the heavy blade through the beast's neck, freeing it's head from it's body. The Turned came to rest in the wet, green grass at the same time the Shepherd's pack made contact with the outside of the house.

The immediate threat dispatched, Tom looked around and could not believe his good fortune: he saw no other Turned on this side of the property. He didn't question the good fortune, however. He heard a thump and a moment later, Chris rounded the corner. No sooner had this happened than Tom ran to the rear of the house.

“
Wrong way,” Chris murmured from behind him as they moved wide around the porch.

“
Change of plan,” Tom said in a hushed voice, stopping at the far end of the building.

Peering around the corner, the Shepherd saw Davis was no longer alone. From what Tom could see, between the Turned that still fed on the marine, the body was more or less as it had fallen nearly an hour earlier. If their behavior was any indicator, the beasts were sated, possibly gorged: they crouched, knelt and lay without a care for their surroundings. Even when Tom tapped the back of his kukri on the side of the house, he drew only the most leisurely looks. One of the creatures rose and, with a contemptuous glance at Tom, began to stagger back toward the trees. It carried itself in an ape-like fashion, crouched and using it's left hand to help it cover ground, and it's rounded belly swung paunch-like as it moved

Two of the three horrors that remained continued to feed. The one that had its back to the house, looked over its shoulder and fixed Tom with a glassy-eyed stared. It released the marine's forearm, on which it had been chewing, and turned to face the young man. In one of those curiously human gestures that made it virtually impossible to think the beasts completely inhuman, Tom watched as it wiped it's own mouth. Then the monster stood and, with a slight wobble in its legs, began to move toward Tom.

“
What are we doing, Tom?” Chris was quiet, but there was urgency in his voice.

“
Davis had the other spark plugs.” Tom was just as quiet, answering before he took two quick steps toward the oncoming horror.

The Shepherd made two quick cuts, one low and the other high, and the Turned fell after one last staggering step. Tom continued on and when he reached Davis' body, he stooped and grabbed the handle on the marine's L.B.E. The beasts watched him and growled with half-hearted threat, lazy from their feeding stupor. It took only one pull, shaking the body as he drew it closer to the house, to loose them from their feast. One of the monsters followed Davis' leg, so focused on continuing the meal that it failed to notice as Chris, machete held high, moved in for the kill.

The last Turned sat and watched them search the body. When Tom looked at the beast, seated patiently, almost as though it were waiting for permission to resume feeding, he was struck with the similarity it bore to a semi-domesticated animal.
Seems Darrow was on to something there
, he thought.
Did I feel that way all along, just never thought of it in those terms until he mentioned it?

Tom took Davis' stun grenade and put it in his coat. A few moments of gruesome searching found the spark plugs, which went into another pocket. Before Tom rose from the body, he heard Chris speak with a quiet intensity.

“
Don't forget his tags.”

The younger man retrieved them. For a moment, Tom saw the heavy frown on Chris' face and felt a moment of sobering sadness. To Tom, it almost seemed that Chris reacted as if he had lost one of the men at New Mont. The heaviness lasted some few minutes, exacerbated by the knowledge that there would be no such measure afforded Eby: his body was too far from the house and in trying to reach it, they would put themselves in view of whoever was in the barn. However much they regretted leaving the Private still hanging from the tree with half a dozen creatures feeding on his legs, hands and whatever else they was within reach, it could not be helped. Neither Tom nor Chris wanted to end up like Eby or Davis.

The men of New Mont ran for the tree line, directly away from the front of the house. With every step, they kept the structure between them and the barn until both mentor and student were deep into the forest. Presently, they found a spot that offered the right amount of cover and concealment and also commanded a view of most of the house, barn and yard. There they stashed Nadeau's rifle and pack, beneath the partly exposed root of a small fir and it's low hanging branches Then, they began their trip back around to the south of the clearing, where they would resume course to the trucks.

Though they were quick and quiet, there was nothing they could do to hide their prints in the mud or disperse the odor of their exertion in the wet air. No sooner had they reached the south end of the clearing then they heard fallen branches pop and snap as they were broken underfoot. The two men could not miss the swish of heavy ground cover as it shifted against something moving through it. Shapes, gray and darker, low to the ground, crouched or sometimes on all fours, dashed from tree to bush to rock. Gone in a blur, they would reappear intermittently from a fold or rut in the ground, only to vanish once again.

Tom slowed to a walk, aware of Chris just behind his left shoulder. The Shepherd felt a heightened awareness fill his senses, one that always seems to precede conflict; his readiness for the coming battle settling about him with the comfort and familiarity of a well-worn coat. He counted the different shapes as they darted and heard a whisper behind him.