Shepherd's Watch

by Angie Counios

  “It’s like someone hid it,” I say.

  Charlie looks down the deer trail into the woods. “How far back do you think that path goes?”

  “No clue.”

  He wraps the book in the bag I found it in and crams it back into the shallow hole. “Want to walk a little and find out?”

  I doubt I’ve got a choice.

  chapter 68

  Before diving into the forest, Charlie slips the glasses into his backpack and throws it over his shoulder.

  “Dude, no one’s going to steal your bag,” I say.

  “Are you kidding? It’s got all my valuables in it.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. My phone, my bear-banger… you know, the essentials!”

  I shake my head as we follow the path that winds deep into the woods. It zig-zags back and forth, and our direction feels random. The bush grows thicker and overgrown and we need to duck several times under low-hanging tree branches and force our way through bush that spreads across the trail. At several places, the path splits or crosses with another deer trail, and the more options we find, the more chance we have of getting lost. I try to keep track, but the constant shifts and twists make it a challenge.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” I eventually ask.

  “Not really,” Charlie says, “but I think I know where we’ve been.”

  I’m not sure I trust him on this. His skills in the forest haven’t been stellar so far.

  “Look,” he says, pointing toward the sun, “as long as we keep it on the left, we should be okay.”

  “But this path goes everywhere.”

  “It must end somewhere,” he says, logically.

  He’s got a point, but still. “What if it’s just a deer trail and the damn animal has no clue where the hell he’s going? Maybe he’s just looking for berries and avoiding wolves.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Why not? There’s no real pattern—”

  “I mean, wolves? You really think so?”

  I stare at him. “What is with you and wildlife? Bears, wolves, leeches—?”

  “People I can usually understand. They want something and will do whatever they can to get it.”

  I shrug. “Same with animals.”

  “Yeah, but with people, they want to be happy or have some importance in this universe. With animals, they just want to eat and have sex—”

  I chuckle. “Sounds a lot like people to me.”

  “Maybe,” Charlie ponders, “but they typically don’t want to eat me.”

  “I think you’re being a little paranoid.”

  We continue on and the bush gets even more dense. Charlie and I push through enveloping leaves and branches, walking blindly, barely able to keep track of the thin path as it winds through the overgrowth.

  Finally, we come into a tiny clearing no bigger than the size of a car, and I stop.

  “How much further do you want to go?”

  Charlie shakes his head. “Wherever this path is going, I don’t think we’re getting to the end of it anytime soon.”

  “If it’s even a path,” I say, leaning back to look up at the clouds that have slowly gathered above. The wind has picked up and the tops of the trees sway back and forth. “And those clouds don’t look good.”

  I can tell Charlie is tempted by curiosity to keep going, but he appears to be as frustrated as I feel. “Charlie, I think you’re right; this path was made by deer wanting berries and other deer to have sex with.”

  He squats low, looking at the trail as it disappears into the undergrowth ahead. Even when we look behind us, we can hardly tell where we’ve come from.

  “Fine, let’s go back,” Charlie says.

  chapter 69

  The walk back is challenging. It doesn’t help that we’re frustrated at not finding anything. I scan my surroundings and don’t recognize any of it—it feels like a brand new forest.

  “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” comes the reply.

  “Uh, Charlie?”

  He stops. “I’m not really sure, but it sort of feels the same. As long as we keep going along this trail, we should be fine.”

  My confidence is not bolstered by his words, still less when the path splits in two and he pauses.

  “You don’t know which way to go, do you?”

  “Give me a sec.” He stares at each of the paths and I’m not sure if he’s thinking or guessing. He points. “This one.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” I don’t believe him and he notices it on my face. “Fine!” He digs into his bag and pulls out his phone and turns on the compass app.

  “You getting a signal?” I ask.

  “Don’t need one. It has an onboard magnetometer.”

  I don’t know whether this is true or not, but with no better option, I follow along.

  We twist along the winding trail. The clouds continue to roll in and darken the sky. There’s not even a hint of sun to keep on our right to lead us to the canoe.

  “I think we’re going to be rowing back in the rain,” I grumble.

  “Ah, no worries,” Charlie, always the optimist, says. “It won’t take us that long.”

  But I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of getting wet and cold, so I pick up the pace. “Let’s hurry a little.”

  “Patience, Shepherd, or we’ll lose the path.”

  And so we trudge along to the low rumble of thunder in the distance. As we push through a dense patch of bush, the trail opens to a more sparsely populated pine forest. Leaves and branches rattle in the wind, which has kicked up a notch or two over the last few minutes.

  “This looks familiar,” Charlie says.

  “You still don’t know where we are, though, do you?”

  “No, but we’re getting closer,” he waves his phone in the air, “and going in the right direction.”

  I can see from here that he’s not even on the compass app. “Wait. What are you looking at?”

  “What?” He tucks his phone in his hand. “Nothing.”

  “Are you on the internet?”

  “A signal popped up. I took advantage of it.”

  “You didn’t put it in standby mode? You’re killing the battery for a couple of dank memes?” I feel like I’m scolding a child.

  “I was looking for us on the map.”

  “And?”

  “Well, it took forever to load and when it finally did, all I got was our dot in a whole mess of trees.”

  “And you probably burned through half the phone’s charge doing it.”

  “Shepherd, you worry too much. We’re almost back to the canoe. And besides, I don’t need a compass. I’ve got you.” He taps me on the chest with the back of his hand as if to reassure me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He grins. “You know your way around the woods and shit.”

  Why does he only offer a compliment when he’s pissing me off? “Whatever. Turn off the internet.”

  He sulks, “Fine.” He fiddles with his phone. “It’s off.”

  I glare. “Really?”

  “Yes.” He shows me that it’s in airplane mode, but the phone is already nearly dead. “Geez, Shepherd, I give you an opportunity to show off your skills and you dump all over it.”

  As much of a punk as Charlie can be, I can’t deny that his faith in me is reassuring.

  I see my first hint of the lake. “Come on!”

  We shove our way through the brush, beelining for the water. The trees give way to the beach and as soon as I hit the sand, I realize we’ve got problems. “Where’s the canoe?”

  Charlie halts, looking around. “This the
right place?”

  “Positive. That’s where I found the book.” I point to the fallen log, then look out at the lake. “The water’s a lot rougher now, but I still don’t think it could’ve pulled the boat out.”

  Charlie and I see it at the same time, but he reacts first—the canoe is out on the lake, rapidly being carried out of sight by the current, and he drops his phone and backpack and charges into the waves after it. By the time he’s deep enough to swim, our best mode of transportation is gone.

  “Charlie!” I holler at him. “Get back here—now!” If the current is strong enough to take the canoe, he shouldn’t be out in the water.

  I’m amazed when he actually does what I ask, stopping this pointless, dangerous rescue attempt and turning back to shore.

  I take another look at the sky. There’s a flash of lightning and another rumble of thunder. This time it sounds closer.

  Charlie wades back up onto the beach a minute later. “Let’s quit dicking around and get moving,” He’s wet to the chest but clearly determined to take action.

  “Where?”

  “Back to the cabin.”

  “I’m not walking,” I say. Is he nuts? It’ll be nearly impossible to follow the lakeshore all the way back.

  He grabs a stick and squats in the sand, smoothing a space with it. “This is where we are.” He draws an X, then another X a bit above it. “This is your cabin. And this is the lake.” He draws a wide curve. “If we cut straight through the woods, we’ll reduce the distance by half.”

  I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about—he does love his maps—but I hate the idea of leaving the beach. “We don’t know what’s between us and the cabin, though. There could be swamps, ravines—who knows what.”

  Charlie shrugs. “We’ve got the compass, for awhile anyway. We can navigate around anything.”

  “We’re going to get soaked.”

  He looks up at the dark sky. “That will happen either way. Come on, Shepherd. We can’t overthink this. We have to go. Now.”

  “Dammit. Fine.” I follow him into the woods and, hopefully, back home.

  chapter 70

  For the past half-hour, we’ve trudged through a mire of fallen trees and deep trenches. Every step of our journey seems blocked and we often have to retreat to find a new way through. Then the rain begins. It goes from scattered sprinkles to a full downpour in seconds and even with the canopy of trees, we’re soaked.

  “Charlie,” I say finally, “it feels like we’re lost.”

  He turns, scouring the landscape, hoping to find some hint of our location.

  “We could go back—”

  “Which way?”

  “We came from over there—”

  “What does the compass say?” I notice it’s not in his hand. “Where is it?”

  “In my bag. It, ah, died a while ago,” he mumbles.

  Shit, this is not good news. “What? When?”

  “Must’ve bricked when I ran into the water to get the canoe.”

  I think back. “That doesn’t make sense. You left it on the beach.” I lock eyes with him. “You turned cell service back on, didn’t you.”

  He doesn’t answer immediately. “I got a signal. I was just trying to download a proper hiker’s map for this area when it stopped. I thought it would help guide us. I just didn’t think it would be so hella big.”

  “You killed the phone.”

  Charlie ignores me, swiping the damp hair from his face, looking at the high ridge that rises behind us. “Maybe we could work our way back up there, find our bearings—”

  I’m pissed. “And how do we get back up there? And which way? You ruined our one chance to find our way out of here.”

  “Hey, I was trying to help.”

  “By screwing us even more?” I yell. “Charlie, we don’t even know if we’re going the right way anymore.”

  “Well, can’t you figure that out?” he yells back at me.

  I stare at him in disbelief. “How?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t you know some forest trick?”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah. Like, from your grandfather, maybe.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. Reading the moss or leaves or something?”

  “What are you talking about?” He is nuts.

  Charlie sighs. “There’s got to be a way to tell directions out here.”

  I point to the rain clouds. “Yeah, it’s called the sun, but we don’t exactly have that. I nod at his bag. “Don’t you have anything else in there that could help us?”

  He shakes his head but goes through it anyway.

  “Jackknife, notebook, pen, small hammer,” he says as he digs a little deeper, “there’s a bandanna, a lighter, my lockpick kit… a pair of socks, my bear-banger, the Tannerite, and the road flare.”

  He’s like Mary Poppins. Only without the umbrella.

  “How can you carry so much shit and have nothing for cover?” The rain’s falling on my face and running down the back of my neck and I’m getting cold. “Look, we need to find shelter—”

  “But if we keep moving—” Charlie protests.

  “No, we need to stop—”

  “Maybe find an open hill, signal for help—”

  “Charlie, we need to wait this out.”

  “We could use the lighter to start a fire and warm up.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s too wet to burn anything.”

  “How about the flare? Maybe we could ignite something.”

  “What if we need to get someone’s attention?” I snap back. “It’s daytime now, but we might be out here all night if we can’t find a way home.”

  “But if we start a fire, somebody might see it—”

  “Sure. Or we could burn the whole forest down. Sounds like your kind of thing.”

  “Hey, are you still pissed about the alley?”

  “No, I’m pissed about everything. You always do this sort of shit, charging in wherever, doing whatever the hell you want without listening, and then it all goes to hell for me.”

  “I’m in this too, you know!”

  “Yeah, but your parents don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to you.”

  I’ve gone too far.

  “Shit, sorry.”

  “Nope, you’ve got a point.”

  I can tell I’ve hurt him.

  “Come on, Charlie, I’m just cold and tired. I want to be back at the cabin.”

  “Hey, you’re right. It doesn’t matter.” He starts walking again.

  “Charlie, wait—”

  “Shepherd, enough.” He glares at me, rain dripping into his eyes. “You know what? You’re not perfect. You can be a real asshole too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, I tried hanging out with you after we caught Sheri’s killer. I went to your games, even when you didn’t invite me. I went to the dumb parties you and your friends went to, and watched all the people drink too much and talk about boring, stupid shit.” He gets up in my face. “But when did any of them do anything for this world that fixed something, that saved someone? Huh? When? You may not like me or the way I do shit, but at least I try.”

  I can barely process everything he’s just said, as he marches off into the foliage.

  I chase after him. “Don’t… Wait!”

  He keeps moving through the trees. “No, Shepherd, you just keep doing whatever the hell it is you do and I’ll go my own way.”

  “Dammit, Charlie, slow down! We need to stay together.”

  He stops. He’s a fair distance away by now and his head is down. He’s got to be bitterly cold too.

  “If we split up, it’ll makes things worse. Please, stay. We’ll get through this better if we work together.”

 
He turns and comes back, slowly. “So what do you want to do?”

  I look around and see a towering spruce with a thick, wide base. “Let’s get under there.”

  He shoots me a questioning look but complies.

  We worm our way under the branches, close to the trunk. There’s very little room to move and we have to lie on our sides close together.

  “This is a little closer than I ever thought I’d have to be with you, Shepherd.”

  “Same. You said you had clothes in your bag?”

  He nods.

  “Hand it to me.” I dig through it, take out his socks and bandanna, wriggle out from beneath the spruce, and tie his stuff to the tree in case someone passes this way. I crawl back underneath.

  Charlie shivers in his wet tee-shirt and jeans.

  “You’re freezing,” I say.

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Dude, your body doesn’t care how tough you think you are.”

  He knows where I’m about to go with this. “No, Shepherd—”

  “Seriously, if we get closer, our body heat will keep us both warm.”

  “No—”

  “If this rain keeps up until nightfall and the temperature drops or if no one finds us right away—”

  “No.”

  I can see in his eyes that he gets it but doesn’t want to admit it. “Charlie, quit being an asshole. It’s for your own good.” I raise my hand as much as I can in the cramped quarters. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  He glares at me. “Fine. Just be careful where you put your parts, okay?”

  “Fair enough.”

  chapter 71

  For years, the men had been moving further into her forest.

  At first, she approached them, their strange, unnatural odour was so different from other animals. But they quickly proved themselves untrustworthy and dangerous. They’d come here, acting friendly with food and other offerings, but then some would desire vile and disgusting things and try to take them at any cost. She learned not to hesitate, not to pause in protecting herself from them, from their ways and wants. Soon, it seemed easier to stop them before they even spoke their lies.