What Comes After (Book 1): A Shepherd Cometh (24 page)

Neither the Shepherd or the mother had spoken a word in nearly two hundred feet, and Tom realized Angie would not change her mind. He must accept her price if he was to see everyone to safety. “Fine,” he said at last. “What would you ask of me?”

She looked at him and opened her mouth but knew a moment of doubt. She couldn't say it while looking him in the face, so she turned her eyes to the forest floor. “Leave me. When the time comes, let me go and don't put anyone else in danger trying to stay with me. Especially Ben.” She paused a moment and brought a hand to cover her nose and mouth. She recovered long enough to speak words that rent his heart asunder. “Jesus Christ, don't you let anything happen to my boy.”

Tom helped hide her sobs by wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her while she walked. They took a few steps before he spoke quietly, directly into her ear. “Yes, ma'am. I'll see him safely home before I part ways with him.”

She nodded and, like Janessa had earlier in the day, drew resolve from his support. Also like Janessa, Angie pulled herself together very quickly and told the others what they needed to know. “The river we canoed across was Salmon Falls and given that Hillcrest, or Red Hill, depending on where you come from, is a couple miles to our west, that would put the old county firehouse twenty-eight or so miles due north. As the crow flies.”

While not shocked, Tom was surprised. Though her certainty convinced him of her accuracy, he still inquired after a few landmarks. In all his travels, he had never encountered someone so confident about the directions she offered. Not even in New Mont, a place with no shortage of books and maps. He told her so.

She smiled sadly. “I was a cartographer, before the End. And I grew up in New England. Spent most of my life here, actually.”

Tom sounded out the word 'cartographer', each syllable seeming to roll around his mouth like a new taste. He was considered well read and well spoken where he was from, but this word was altogether unknown to him. “What's a cartographer?”

“I made maps. Hand drawn, photographs, computer.” While her smile faded, the sadness remained. “It was a different world.” Distracted by her memories of what had been, Angie did not see root in front of her until she was pitching forward into soft earth rushing.

Tom caught her just before she hit the ground. When Angie regained her feet, she stayed doubled over long enough to make a susurrant statement in his ear. “Just leave me now. You know where you're going and I'm only slowing you down. Take him away from here.”

The Shepherd shook his head and looked her in the eye, his own voice a matching whisper. “Don't you worry about that: I'm good for my word.” The first part came out somewhat harder than he intended, so he softened his tone before saying the rest. “But leaving you now serves no purpose. It's more than wasteful, it's sinful. This is for them every bit as much as it is for you. We owe each other this much. Come on, let's move together while we can.”

She favored him with another smile, this one untainted by sadness. She placed a palm against his cheek. “You are a lovely young man.”

Tom's face began to burn. “Th-thank you, ma'am.”

Toby reached back to the Shepherd, tapped him on the arm. “Hold up,” Toby said, his voice quiet.

The small group fell completely and utterly silent. They noticed the sounds of the forest had all but died off; no bird cry or call, no small animals rusting along branches or in bushes, even the few insects that were active during the cool autumn morning were quiet. When the gentle breeze fell away, they all heard the unmistakable crunch of a pine cone being crushed.

The five of them waited, tense and watching for any sign of activity. Popping, cracking and rustling continued, but it did not seem to be coming from the area directly around them. The more of it they heard, the more certain they became that whatever was moving was not closing on their location. Ben confirmed this a minute or so after they'd heard the crushing of the first pine cone.

“Look, Mom,” he said, his voice barely audible. He tugged on Angie's sleeve. “Look.”

The woman's gaze followed her son's chubby finger. He was pointing back into the clearing at a mass of shapes converging on the structures within. The smoke, the fire, and the gunshots must have been a sore temptation for the Turned. Powerful enough that they felt compelled to venture here in spite of whatever instinct, dislike or concealment that previously kept them away from the place.

“Oh, my God.” Angie looked at Tom. “Those people...”

“Are dead,” he finished for her. “And we should be going, unless we want to join them.” He remembered the woman in the barn, who threatened Angie and Ben with a hoe, telling them how Greg and Janessa 'had it coming'.
They weren't the only ones
, he thought.

The majority of the creatures were entering the clearing from the west, directly opposite the Shepherd and his companions. Bearing this in mind, he thought about adjusting their trajectory northeast for a few miles, then coming back around to resume the course Angie had outlined for them earlier. He outlined this plan to the group as they began moving away from the farm, deeper into the forest proper. The others agreed readily enough, until they crested a small rise and saw movement in the crevice below them.

Clawing and scraping at the mossy earth, half a dozen or more monsters climbed up the incline on all fours. Tom never hesitated: the Turned were between his companions and the straightest, surest path from the carnage behind him. Using their firearms would only draw attention from the horde swarming the clearing, so the path must be cleared another way. He pulled the kukri from his belt and said in a low tone, “No guns.” With that, he began making his way down towards the scrabbling creatures.

Toby had only his rifle, but he didn't let that slow him down. Staying a yard to the Shepherd's right, he slid down and waded into the group, the stock of his .308 thrusting ahead of him. The young men engaged the horrors very differently, but shared a quickness and lack of reservation. Tom moved with practiced, patient cuts and Toby with vicious, clubbing strikes. Janessa had requisitioned a hand sickle from the barn, which she used to devastating effect on the Turned to the Shepherd's left.

The three had wasted not a moment intercepting the hostile beings, and acted even more quickly once battle was joined. Even still, the trio could do nothing to prevent one of the beasts from circumventing the melee and racing to the top of the incline. Legs pumping, arms windmilling, the thing that had once been a man threw clods of earth all around as it climbed. It seemed almost desperate to reach the mother and son only a few yards away. It reached out one pale hand to the boy and opened a mouth full of yellowed teeth, salivating at sight of the meal to come.

No one could fault Angie for what she did. After all, if any of them had been in the same position, they figured they would have done exactly the same thing. She had no hand weapon and even if she did, she couldn't have used one effectively given the nature of her injury. She had only a moment to act and her child's life was in the balance. So she drew a bead on the head of the creature and pulled the trigger of her carbine. The round seemed to detonate inside the skull of the monster, then it flung itself head first onto the ground not a yard from where the boy stood. Angie considered the crater in the back of it's head while the peel of thunder from her gunshot reverberated on the trees and rocks around them.

Tom cursed. He surveyed their surroundings as he climbed to stand beside the mother. With no other threats in the immediate area, he dropped his long knife and pulled the M14 around, mindful not to hit Toby with the barrel. For all his bluster, the younger man was doing a commendable job of clinging to Tom's shadow. Bringing the rifle up, he scanned the clearing through the its scope and asked Angie if she was alright.

“We're fine. I'm sorry.” She sounded ready to say more, so Tom stopped her.

“Don't be,” he said. Through his scope, the Shepherd saw that only a dozen Turned were headed in their direction. Trouble was they were on the near side of the clearing. At the speed they were moving, his companions had two minutes, three at best before they were caught. Tom was confident in his abilities and trusted that Janessa and Toby would give it their all. Still, twelve was a lot take on without firing another shot. The Shepherd knew more gunfire would draw greater attention and that was something they would want to avoid, even if they were all at one hundred percent.

Tom lowered his weapon and turned to Angie. She nodded the moment their eyes met. He was grateful it wasn't necessary for him to speak. He didn't trust himself to do so without his emotions clouding the moment. Instead, he returned his long arm to its place over his shoulder, picked up his blade and wiped it clean.

Angie took Ben by the shoulders and pulled him from her leg. Cupping his chin with her hand, she gently turned his head up so they were looking at each other. Early morning sunlight filled the air around the mother and son with a bright, golden glow. To Tom, it seemed an enchanted moment: parent and child covered in a soft wash of ephemeral light.

“Sweetie,” she said in a mother's honeyed voice. “I need you to show Tom and the others how to get to Caleb. Can you take them to the brick building with the fire truck?”

“Why can't you show them? You don't remember where it is?” He sounded puzzled.

Angie cleared her throat. “Mommy's hurt, baby boy. She's too slow to keep up with everyone, so she needs to hide until the monsters are gone.” Though the lie came easily enough, it did nothing to stop the tear that trailed down her cheek.

“Why are you crying? Are you scared?” Ben was beginning to panic.

The mother nodded. “Yes, Ben. I'm scared.” She sniffed and pulled him close. “I need you to be brave for both of us, now. Can you show them the way?”

He nodded sullenly, lower lip extended in a pout. “He's gonna be there?”

“I think so. I hope so. Has he let us down before?”

Ben shook his head. “Will you find us there, when you don't need to hide anymore?”

She nodded. “Of course.” Tom wondered if, despite his youth, the boy knew what his mother was doing.

“We'll wait for you,” Ben promised as he felt the Shepherd's hand on his shoulder.

“Time to go,” Tom said softly. His interjection in the moment seemed to render an instance of sacred time suddenly profane. The golden light faded as a cloud crossed the sun and the emotional sanctity of the exchange was marred by a child's hate as Ben turned to glare at the young man.

Before the boy could offer insult, Angie released him and pushed her son to Tom. “Go with him, Ben. I'll see you after.”

Tom took a last look at the woman across from him. He marveled at her courage and will, her ability to make an intellectual decision and see it through, regardless of how it directly conflicted with a visceral need.

“Thank you,” was all he could say to her. With that, the Shepherd turned from Angie and strode down the incline with Toby and Ben in tow. Janessa waited part way down, near the bodies of the slain Turned. To the brother and sister, he said, “Let's put some distance between us and them.” To the boy he said quietly, “Don't look back. That'll only make it harder.”

Then they were off, four forms running through the autumn woods in early morning. Tom stayed alongside Ben. Toby ran to Tom's left, while Janessa brought up the rear. The Shepherd said nothing when the boy looked over his shoulder for a parting glance at his mother. Nor did he speak when, just over a minute later, four shots issued from some distance behind them. While the young man had an idea why the last two were so close together, he spared Ben the pain of sharing his speculation. It seemed the boy knew well enough what had transpired, though, as his eyes and nose trailed fluid during their flight.

But Ben didn't miss a step. He didn't turn around or even slow. Like the others, he just kept running.

It wasn't until the sun was a full hand above the trees that the Shepherd allowed them to stop. The day had grown warmer, and they needed some time to hydrate and recover. The stream ahead of them fit the bill, so Tom offered his companions a break. Gauging the sun, he reasoned it must be around ten o'clock.
That would've put some ground between us and the farm
, he thought. 

The condition of his companions did no favors for his hope of their progress, however. They gasped, sucked down water with shaking hands, and were nearly as pale as the beasts from which they ran.
They're pretty beat. We'll be lucky if I can get us back on our proper northerly course before we need to make camp for the night.

Tom took extra time to adjust their course. He wagered they had been moving around four miles an hour, and that they had been at it for just shy of three hours. That meant they would have passed the burned out Shell station thirty or so minutes ago, had they been traveling along the direct route. If he calculated correctly, they could make the granite ridge just before night fall. That would be an ideal place to make camp.

“Slow down, Toby,” the Shepherd said to the young man. “I know you're thirsty, but you've got to drink slowly. You won't be doing anyone any favors if you throw up what you just drank.”

Toby fixed him with what Tom thought was supposed to be a glare, but lacked the energy or conviction to be anything but a vacant stare. When Janessa's brother continued quickly scooping water to his mouth, Tom shrugged. “Suit yourself. You'll be cleaning up your own mess, though. And we won't be stopping for you, when you make it.” This gave the other man pause and after some consideration, brought Toby's drinking to an end.

“How about some lunch?” Janessa asked this, sounding every bit as weary as she looked.

Tom shook his head. “Not yet. Bad enough we crashed for a breather like this for as long as we did. Should definitely walk a ways to let our bodies settle a bit more before we start asking them to digest food. It'll also help us make up some of the ground we won't be covering later.” With that, he rose from his crouch and slung his pack on his back.