Shepherd's Watch

by Angie Counios

  My family is silent and terrified. Heather glances up—she seems to be the only one who knows I’m here. I deliberately look at the front door and, almost imperceptibly, she shakes her head no. There’s no way they can get out. I look meaningfully at the stairs and the woman, but Heather negates that too—she too thinks it’s unlikely I can take the woman by surprise. I scan the room, looking for some way to save them, but Heather’s watching me and she mouths the one word I don’t want from her: “Run.” She closes her eyes and turns away, and I know it’s because she’s fears the worst. I refuse to accept that.

  I push backwards into my room, grab the walking stick, and slide into the dark corner beside the dresser.

  What the hell am I going to do? Ollie and Gekas are either dead or dying. Mom, Dad, and Heather are being held at knifepoint by a woman Charlie and I brought into their lives, and I’m on my own. I’m sitting in the dark with a damn stick as a weapon, outmatched and scared shitless.

  Suddenly, the room slips into total darkness as the door shuts.

  “Don’t scream, Shepherd,” comes a whisper from the shadows.

  Charlie’s standing behind the door.

  “Where did you go?” I whisper back.

  “Where’d I go? Where’d you go?” Charlie replies.

  “I saw you running away!” I growl, “I told you to wait.”

  “Gear down. Rabbit girl took off into the woods and I tried to catch her because I figured you’d be pissed if I lost her.”

  “You broke your promise.”

  “Oh, we’re going to start keeping score? Now? Okay, well then, you broke your promise to Gekas and came inside.” He sighs. “Look, I saw you climb through the window, so I figured I better come in and save your ass.”

  “I don’t know what the hell to do.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Charlie… my family.”

  “We’re going to get them out safe.”

  “I think she may have hurt—”

  “Shepherd, get your shit together. Let’s deal with the problem. What do we know?”

  I know he’s trying to focus me, so I do my best to let go of the things we can’t control. Coach runs basketball drills like this all the time; it’s supposed to help us concentrate during a game even if it seems like we’re losing.

  “She’s got a knife,” I whisper.

  “Right,” he says. “Which means we keep our distance.”

  “She’s also not as old as we thought.”

  “Yeah, I saw that too. Either our hippy couple got busy long ago or they stole two kids. But it also means we can’t rely on her being weak to save our asses.”

  I think back to the book. “Maybe she’s Rebecca.”

  “And Tasha thinks she’s her mother?” He considers it. “Based on everything else we saw in the woods, that makes sense.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We use our advantages—”

  “There’s two of us and only one of her.”

  Charlie nods. “Plus, she doesn’t know we’re inside already.” He scoops up his backpack and goes to the window. “I’ll make a distraction to draw her away; you get your family out.”

  “There’s an axe on the ground under Heather’s window.”

  “Thanks.”

  I skip sharing any sentiments because I know he wouldn’t care for them, but I’m as worried for him as I am for my family.

  “Charlie—”

  “Shepherd, trust me. We’ll keep them safe.”

  chapter 113

  Charlie crawls onto the roof above the front door. It’s a ten-foot drop, but he doesn’t hesitate and jumps down. I wait until I see him wave the all clear and then I step back to the door, swinging it open a crack. The woman’s still downstairs, so I move out into the hallway, staying low behind the corner at the top of the stairs, and wait for his signal.

  It doesn’t take him long. The kitchen window above the sink shatters, and Mom and Heather scream. The woman leaps to her feet, moving from the stairs. He smashes the foyer window next, and the woman crosses to the door and looks out. Until Charlie draws her away, I can’t get downstairs to my family. Whatever he’s going to do, he better do it soon.

  I hear a hiss and the trees by the firepit glow red. There’s a hard thonk against the front window and I see Charlie’s flare roll over the edge of the deck and out of sight.

  This definitely gets her attention and she goes to the kitchen door and walks outside, looking back at Mom, Dad, and Heather, considering whether or not to leave them, before she gives in to her curiosity.

  The moment she’s off the deck, I rush down the stairs. My parents start to protest, but I hold out a hand to silence them.

  The ropes are my first problem, so I run to the kitchen, staying low, to grab a blade from the knife block. I peek around the edge of the island, making sure the woman hasn’t come back, before returning to my family.

  “Anthony, leave!” Mom whispers, near tears.

  “You can ground me later.” I grab the first rope and cut away at it. It’s rough and the serrated edge of the knife yanks against it.

  “Pull it tight,” I say, and Mom and Dad tug hard, removing the slack, and I’m able to make progress, the fibres starting to shred.

  Now that I’m close, I can see that Dad’s cut is deep; he’ll need stitches.

  He catches my look. “She got me good.”

  “What happened?”

  “She knocked, I answered, and she just attacked.”

  “Did she say anything?” I’m not ready to admit why she’s here.

  “She keeps asking, ‘Where’s Tasha?’ over and over.”

  Mom looks over her shoulder to the window. “She could be a psych patient, but I can’t imagine her getting this far from any hospital.”

  The rope tying them together gives way. I start freeing Mom’s hands, but she objects. “No, do Heather’s first.”

  Heather is closest to the front window and helping her leaves me exposed, but I know Mom won’t give me any other choice. I crawl around, doing my best to hide behind Heather and Dad.

  My sister stares at me and we don’t say anything. We both know this is messed up and I’m pretty sure that out of everyone, she’s the one who most likely knows that I brought this upon them.

  “As soon as I get you free, go straight for the door, okay?”

  She nods, but I know she’ll ignore my plea, and stay around to help Mom and Dad.

  “Heather, this woman isn’t good,” I tell her. “If I’m worrying about you, then I won’t be able to get everyone out safe.”

  She doesn’t like what I’m saying, so I add, “Look, Charlie’s out there right now, pissing her off.” I force a grin. “If anyone can keep her busy, it’s him.”

  I think she’s finally going to listen, when her smile fades and I turn to see the woman standing in the door.

  “You!” the woman yells.

  chapter 114

  I drop the knife next to Heather, hoping I can buy my sister time to cut herself free. I pick up the walking stick and step backwards toward the couch to give myself room, but this unwittingly puts Mom, Dad, and Heather between us and in striking distance.

  “You did this!” the woman yells.

  If I weren’t so focused on the sheer terror of the moment, I’m sure I’d see Mom and Dad trying to figure out what she means by that.

  “You came into my forest with your filth and your stink and your machines and ruined it. We didn’t need you and we didn’t want you.”

  “You hurt people, Rebecca.” It’s a guess, but she doesn’t argue. I move slowly to the center of the room, pulling her attention away from my family until there’s nothing between us except my stick.

  “Who did I hurt? That man? That disgusting man with his gun?”

  Ther
e was that hunter who’d gone missing; I guess he really wasn’t abducted by aliens.

  “Yes, and Terry, the man with the boat,” This is the moment I sense that my family is beginning to understand what I’m talking about. “And the photographer.” I’m not certain about this, but it might be my only chance to connect the pieces.

  “I tried to warn her, like I warned you—”

  “With a slaughtered deer?”

  “I only wanted to scare her, but she ran and she fell and died.”

  I don’t know what to believe.

  “What about Joanna?”

  She flinches at the name. “Who?”

  “Joanna Grassing? The girl you kidnapped?”

  “I didn’t— Tasha is mine.”

  She has completely reinvented reality. I don’t know much I can push. “No, Rebecca, you took her from her mother and her stepfather.”

  “They were foolish and stupid.”

  “That wasn’t yours to judge.”

  “She would have died—”

  “She wasn’t yours.”

  I can see in her eyes that I’ve gone too far.

  She points the knife at my family. “Give her back to me.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Give her—”

  “She’s gone. She ran away.”

  She looks deflated by this information but not for long, “You ruined everything, you and that other one.”

  She rushes me and I take a solid swing at her. The stick connects with her arm, forcing her to drop the knife. The pain is visible on her face, but she bulls through it and before I can pull back and hit her again, she’s on me, pushing me backwards.

  My head slams into the floor and my teeth crack together—a big white flash bursts in my vision. She fights like an animal, clawing at my face, grabbing my hair, gouging at my eyes. I can’t get my arms out for another swing, and she slams my skull into the wood floor again and again.

  Everything blurs and then I feel her push off and move away. The knife. She’s going to finish me off, but all I can think is that Mom, Dad, and Heather will be next if I don’t do something.

  I try to pull myself up, but she knocks me back with something hard and she’s over me with her arms raised high and everyone is screaming and I know I won’t be able to stop her from stabbing me.

  But then she’s gone. Through the blur, I see her fighting. Is Ollie back protecting the family? As my vision clears, I realize that it’s actually Charlie who’s come to save my ass.

  I roll over and drag myself off the floor. My arms are noodles and my head feels like a swollen beach ball, but I need to do whatever I can to stop this nightmare.

  Heather has taken my knife and cut through her ropes and is now working on getting Mom and Dad free. I crawl to Mom to try and lend a hand, but she helps me more by holding me steady until the rest of me catches up.

  Charlie fights like a beast. Rebecca goes for his face and eyes, but he pummels her every chance he gets. She can’t keep up. She needs distance, but he won’t give it, and I think he’s got her, until she gets a leg around him and pulls him backwards. She claws at his neck, digging deep gouges into his flesh.

  I stumble away from Mom and grab the first thing I find—which happens to be the coffee table. It’s light and I swing it at Rebecca’s head, but my aim’s off and it breaks across her back. Charlie takes advantage and grabs her hair, then clubs her in the ear several times. He’s almost got her off him, but she’s punching him in the side and it isn’t until it’s too late that I realize she’s got her knife out and it’s covered in blood.

  People scream and I’m racing for the walking stick. I swing and it crunches into the back of her skull and she tumbles forward. I fall with her from the momentum and land on my knees, then collapse onto my back, and Dad rushes past me, pulling the woman off Charlie. Mom’s there and she’s already rolling him over and looking at his side and his blood is all over her hands.

  My head’s ringing, but I hear Mom telling Dad to grab towels and ice and for Heather to call 911. I want to get up and help my friend, but I can’t really move. Then I see the woman and she’s moving and I know this living hell isn’t over yet.

  She’s on me, the knife flashes and I’ve got the stick between me and her. Blood pours from her mouth and nose—I’ve likely broken her skull—but she’s putting all her weight behind the knife and my arms are sponges and she’s pushing it against my chest.

  A gunshot goes off, then another, and another, and the knife drops sideways and the woman falls on top of me.

  I lie there, not moving. Mom is dealing with Charlie and Dad rushes somewhere past my head toward the front door, calling out Gekas’s name.

  She’d slumped at the door, bloody, her service revolver in hand.

  Heather kneels beside me, pulling Rebecca away.

  “Tony! You okay, little brother?”

  “I don’t—” I think of the blood on Mom’s hands. “I think so. How’s Charlie?”

  Pain crosses Heather’s face, but she doesn’t bullshit me. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay… okay…” I repeat, more to myself than anyone in particular.

  “I’m going to get you something for your head.”

  I tell her not to worry about me, but she probably feels as helpless as I do, so I don’t argue. She disappears and returns with a bag of frozen peas that she sets on my forehead. It’s cold, but it feels good.

  I close my eyes.

  chapter 115

  I pass out until Heather wakes me up. Mom won’t let me close my eyes anymore and tells Heather to keep me talking. My mind is pretty foggy and it’s hard to think, but I do my best.

  “Have you checked on Ollie?” I ask her.

  She nods. “Dad looked at him. His breathing is shallow.”

  “Did she—?” I don’t want to imagine Rebecca using her knife on him.

  “I don’t think so. That foolish dog rushed her after Dad was cut, and she hit Ollie to get him off. He fought her until she knocked him out.”

  I keep looking over at Charlie to see how he’s doing. He doesn’t look good. Mom’s got a pile of bloody rags beside her and she’s wrapped torn bed sheets around him to keep pressure against his wounds. She keeps close to him, though, holding him. His hand looks gray against her red-stained skin.

  Dad’s sitting beside Gekas and she actually looks better than Charlie. He’s got a towel against her back, but he’s got her sitting up and leaning forward. She’s still holding her revolver, keeping an eye on Rebecca, but I’m pretty sure she’s dead.

  An ambulance arrives and the emts treat Charlie and Gekas, but she tells them to quit worrying about her and help Charlie. When a second ambulance shows up, Gekas doesn’t fight off their assistance as hard.

  They load me on a stretcher as well because Mom insists I get a full head-to-toe examination, and since they’re offering me painkillers for my pounding head, I don’t argue.

  As they take me outside, the cops arrive. I know there’ll be questions and I’ll have a lot of explaining to do, which only makes me worry about Charlie more. He’d be stubborn with them and he’d keep me from saying too much.

  The thought of him being a smartass makes me smile.

  chapter 116

  They keep me under observation at the hospital for forty-

  eight hours. The first night, they wake me several times and ask how I’m doing. My head quits throbbing by the second day, and after an examination and a ct scan, they figure I’m good enough to be on my way.

  But I don’t leave.

  Gekas and Charlie were rushed through emergency and straight into operating rooms. They stitched Gekas back together fairly quickly and filled her with blood and fluids. She’s in a cast to restrict movement and they’ve warned her that she’s got a lot of physical rehab ahead of her.

>   Mom and Dad tell me Ollie was beaten pretty badly, but the vets did X-rays and they couldn’t see any serious internal damage. But Rebecca hit him a couple of times in the side of the head and they think he might have some hearing loss, which upsets me. Still, I’m just thankful that he’s alive.

  Charlie is a different story. They’ve filled him full of blood and they have to fight to keep it all in. They shoved tubes down his throat and operated on every part of his guts to piece him back together before they even considered closing him up again. When they’d done everything they could, they airlifted him out of Estoria to the nearest city, where they have bigger and better medical instruments. Without even discussing it, Mom, Dad, Heather, and I follow him and book ourselves into a hotel to keep a constant vigil by his bedside.

  The doctors and nurses run him through every scanning machine in the building, and test every fluid in him to make sure things aren’t worse than they imagine. Their other big problem is keeping him breathing regularly, and they wrestle with this the most. He’ll seem fine and then alarms go off and they rush us out and close the door and we sit for hours in the waiting room before we can see him again.

  He’s unconscious for long periods of time and we sit around his room, reading, playing on our phones, or napping. Flowers begin to arrive from people Charlie knows, like Diane, Laurie, and Ali, as well as a few without any names.

  At one point when I look up, I see Mom watching me across the room. She smiles tiredly, then looks at Heather. “Will you let us know if anything changes? Dad and I are going to take Tony down for some food.”

  Heather nods and it isn’t until we’re out in the hallway that I realize they’re taking me for teatime. I should’ve figured it was coming, even with Charlie in the hospital. Maybe especially because he’s in the hospital.

  We go down and get a coffee for Dad and me, while Mom takes a tea, as well as three doughnuts—a cruller, a vanilla, and a maple. As the woman behind the till boxes the pastries up, I can’t help but think that no matter how hard these chain restaurants try to be fresh and tasty, they’ll never match the excellence that is Cup of Joan’s.