What Comes After (Book 1): A Shepherd Cometh

by Peter Carrier

  “We'll make due,” he offered by way of reassurance. He couldn't tell if his voice carried the right tone for the job.

  Surveying the carnage, Tom thought of the best way to be gone from this place. Without the Sentry, they could not carry as many supplies and they were out a pair of strong, willing hands. Realizing he should confirm the passing, he set his jaw and strode to Greg's body. Unceremoniously pushing Joel and Sister Spade from atop the large man, the Shepherd set two fingers on Greg's neck and waited several seconds. While he waited, he glanced at the numerous and grievous injuries; gashes and bruises where the edge of the shovel had cut flesh and broken bone, as well as the wicked, jagged tears where the spade had punctured skin. Feeling no pulse, Tom pulled one of the Sentry's hands aside and studied the mans face. Expression frozen, eyes open and unblinking, the young man knew his companion to be truly dead. The Shepherd closed Greg's eyes and let his own shoulders sag as he resumed planning their path.

  Half a minute later, he rose suddenly and picked up the pack of food Greg had filled. Taking Toby's rifle from where it still leaned against the wall, Tom made to leave the barn. He found his path barred by an unexpected obstacle as Janessa stepped in front of him and asked him something. He looked at her silently for a few seconds, not only because he needed to decipher her lip movements but to consider her request.

  “What about Toby?”

  He didn't need to hear her voice to know how serious she was. He could see it in the set of her jaw, the way her shoulders were squared and how she drew herself up to look him in the eye. The longer he drew out the silence, the more defiant she became.

  “I'm not leaving him here.” Enough of the ringing had faded that he could hear her resolve.

  “Alright,” he said. “But he's your responsibility, with everything that entails.” Tom spoke as neutrally as he could. He wasn't trying to convince her to change her mind, only underline the gravity of her request in no uncertain terms.

  “He's my brother, not yours.” she said simply, as though that statement explained everything. “I don't expect you to take care of him. Or me, for that matter.”

  The Shepherd shook his head. “I mean you will be accountable for any wrong he does. When he missteps, you're the one who will pay the price. Now do you understand?”

  Janessa shrugged. “He's my brother,” she said again. “What else can I do?”

  “Very well,” Tom murmured.

  Returning the food pack to the floor, he made his way back to the end of the hall between the stalls. The shadows here weren't as deep, telling the Shepherd the sun was higher in the sky than he would have liked. We should have been gone already, he thought. Frustration bubbling like magma just beneath the surface, Tom pulled the bolt from Toby's stall. He lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

  The door swung in, allowing Tom and Toby to regard each other from across the threshold of captivity. Tom gestured down the hall, toward the front room. “Let's go,” he said when the other didn't move.

  Toby's eyes narrowed. “How do I know this ain't some kind of trick?”

  Tom arched an eyebrow. “Did I need a trick to get you in there? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. This is a one time offer, Toby. Take it or leave it.”

  The other man waited, apparently deliberating the pros and cons. A handful of seconds passed before he walked out of the stall, past the Shepherd and down the hall. Tom followed, shaking his head. And I thought I was full of myself at that age, he mused.

  Letting the other man move several paces ahead, Tom stopped between the last pair of unopened doors. He looked from one to the other and was aware that Toby had only just set foot in the front room when Janessa sprinted across the open space and threw herself at her baby brother.

  They need a second, the Shepherd thought. While they embraced, he removed the bolt from each door. Taking a deep breath, he lifted one latch and then the other. He pushed both doors open half a foot and left them so cracked. He did not check them or offer a courtesy call to those within. After what had happened just a minute earlier, he had neither the patience or inclination to deal with whomever might be within. In turn, he considered, the occupants probably wanted nothing to do with the people outside the stalls. In any case, it's finished, he told himself. They can go their own way, now. No doubt they'll be better off without any 'help' from me.

  3.8

  Tom gathered up a few things, then went back to the siblings and cleared his throat beside them. As brother and sister separated, he thrust the food pack into Toby's chest.

  “What's this?” Toby sounded perturbed.

  “Breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next week or so. Ten days, if we're lucky.” Tom crossed back to Greg's body and pulled another pack from beneath the large man. Hefting it, he determined it was light enough for Ben.

  “Think you can manage this, big guy?” He asked while offering the pack to the boy.

  Ben looked at his mother and after she nodded, the boy went to the Shepherd and took the pack. It dipped when it changed hands, but didn't touch the floor. Ben struggled to get it over his shoulders, but Tom helped the boy position it and tighten the straps. After doing so, the young man looked up at Angie. “Can you shoot?”

  She nodded and took the rifle Tom held out to her. She made a serviceable examination of the weapon; checking the safety, action and the status of the chamber. While she did so, Tom picked up Toby's weapon and made a check of his companions. They appeared as ready as possible for what came next, so he made to depart.

  “Hey, man,” Toby called out. “What about mine? You gonna give me back my gun or what?”

  Tom looked at Janessa's brother. “I'm bringing you along because Janessa insisted you come. That doesn't mean I trust you enough to have a weapon. Maybe you can earn this back, but that's something for another day. I don't think we'll be doing a lot of shooting, anyway.”

  Toby began to sputter, but stopped short when Janessa elbowed him in the ribs. She asked Tom, “How do you figure?”

  Standing by the large barn door, the Shepherd surveyed the yard one last time. “No one in the field had a long arm anywhere in sight. None of the windows on the ground floor of the house are sealed. That and having only one armed guard on the property tells me that the residents feel safe here. Folk are less apt to be ready to make an armed response to something when they feel safe.”

  “What happens when they go back to the house and get the guns in there? Didn't really think this one through-” Toby's reproach was again cut short, this time when his sister smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow.”

  “You'd run into a burning building? For something that might not even make a difference? Instead of putting out the fire or taking food and water or getting other people to safety?” Tom shook his head. “I put the weapons on the first bed I lit off. The folk in the yard may have sidearms to shoot at us, but I'll wager they're more distracted by other things. Now,” changing his tone as he told them what came next, “stay together. We're going for the trees on closest end of the property. Janessa will be on point, Angie will set the pace. If anyone approaches, draw a bead on them and say something. If they keep coming after that, or they're armed, drop 'em. Let's get out of here.”

  They left the barn, feeling vulnerable and exposed the moment they were out of the large building's shadow. Crossing the southern yard, they avoided the small outbuilding Tom and Janessa had briefly sheltered behind earlier that morning. The Shepherd brought up the rear, facing the burning farm house and the other satellite structures. Toby's rifle ready on his shoulder, he agonized over the slow creep of their retreat but knew there was nothing that could be done about it. He only hoped that Angie could maintain this pace until they reached the river.

  He noticed a couple of farmhands at a well. The two men had stopped pulling up a bucket and were watching his groups departure. Before they could take other action, the Shepherd brought up the borrowed .308 and took aim at one of the men. It only took a moment before their
interest was properly restored to the blaze engulfing their home.

  Tom figured it took his group about eight minutes to reach the treeline. It had taken him and Janessa half that time to cover the same ground. The disgust he felt couldn't be directed at Angie, since she hadn't wanted to be hit in the leg. All the same, Tom was desperately searching for a way to expedite their return to the canoe. Things were further complicated when Angie offered a hissing gasp and asked the group to stop. Dismayed, Tom still agreed. The mother sat down heavily on a flat rock and began to roll up her pant leg. Ben hovered nearby, looking at his mother and asking what was wrong. The Shepherd looked back to the farmhouse. They weren't even a hundred feet from the clearing, which put them less than a thousand feet from the barn. This won't do, he thought.

  Tom turned back to the group, now clustered around the rock. Janessa and Toby had the good sense to be watching the forest while the others tended to their hurt member. The Shepherd watched Angie stop rolling her pant leg up just before it got to her knee. She winced when she pulled again, but could bring the material no further along.

  “What is it, Mom? What's wrong?” Ben was beside his mother, grabbing her arm with both of his small hands.

  “Shh, baby. Momma needs to look at the hurt. Hush, now.” She did well to keep the panic from her voice, but she could not hide the shaking of her hands.

  Tom knelt beside Angie and lay down the rifle. “Let me,” he murmured.

  Removing a folding knife from his coat, the young man cut the denim on either side of her knee. Tom gently rolled the flaps of material until her knee was exposed. Though she didn't make a sound, Tom felt her eyes on him. The kneecap sat askew between the bones of her leg, and the skin of her lower thigh and upper calf were streaked with red just under the surface. He looked up at her. She knows it's bad. It was no easier to bear with Ben hovering around them.

  “So,” Janessa asked quietly, still watching the trees. “How bad is it?”

  Tom kept quiet, wanting to see how Angie wanted to handle it. The Shepherd and the mother looked at each other pensively for long heartbeats before she replied. “Um, not good,” she laughed and sniffed, “but, ah, I'll manage. Ben, sweetie, could you get some me some water from the bag?”

  The boy was so eager to help he nearly toppled over in his hurry to set down the bag. He did drop the water bottle when he finally dug it out. Even though he was quick to do as his mother asked, he missed the motion of her wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm.

  “Here, Mom.” Ben thrust the bottle into her arms. “I got it for you.” He watched her drink, eyes wider than Tom would have thought possible.

  While Angie drank, Tom asked her a question. “Were you headed somewhere particular, Angie? Or away from somewhere? Before you joined Greg and the others, that is.” He paused while she looked at him, holding the last gulp of water in her mouth. “I need to know so I can figure out where we go from here.”

  Angie swallowed and nodded. Closing her eyes, she pressed the water bottle to her forehead and took a breath before responding. “To somewhere. Here, actually.” She smiled bitterly. “I remembered my half-sister lived near here, and we'd heard that there was a community in the area. So when the military guys showed up in their humvees, we figured we'd see if they'd visited anyone else.” It seemed she would say more but before she could, she winced and clutched her leg.

  Tom spoke to Angie after a brief reprieve. “Can you still walk? We need to put as much ground between us and the farm as soon as possible. Maybe continue your tale on the way, if you'd be so kind.”

  The Shepherd picked up the .308 as he stood. Tapping Toby on the arm with his free hand, he offered the rifle to back to the other young man. Toby glanced at the weapon and then at the Shepherd.

  “For real?” He asked skeptically.

  Tom nodded to Angie. “She needs help walking, so we'll need another gun ready. Stay within arms reach of me at all times. No closer, no further. The moment you stray is the moment you've drawn your last breath. Understood?”

  Once again, Toby appeared to consider it before replying. “Alright. How long do I need to stay that close?”

  The Shepherd blinked at him, seeing the wheels turning in his head.. “Until I say otherwise. And Toby,” he said, bending down to help Angie stand. “Yours isn't the only life depending on it.” He saw that the other young man did not readily understand the added condition, but his sister did.

  Janessa glanced at Toby, then at Tom. “Don't mess this up, Toby. Do as he says.” There was no mistaking the grit in her voice or the anger in her eyes.

  When Angie was on her feet, the Shepherd kept his arm around her waist to help guide her around the stone. After a test period of support, the mother patted him on the arm and told him she was okay for now. Still, Tom stayed close by her as the small group set off. At Angie's suggestion, they moved to the north. The Shepherd had them remain in the trees, edging a few hundred feet from the clearing. It would take half an hour or more to circle around, but it was the safest option.

  Tom prompted Angie to resume her story. “Why are we headed north?”

  “That's where Ben and I came from,” she said. She wobbled on her next step and gasped just before Tom caught her. She only stopped for a moment before assuring him she was fine and continuing along. “We knew of two other communities reasonably close by. This one,” she gestured toward the clearing, “and another due east of where we were. Caleb and I decided to go south check this one, in case Chelsea was still here. Connor and Kristen went east.”

  “When was that?” Tom asked, splitting his attention as evenly as possible between watching the forest and the wounded woman.

  “Couple weeks ago. It took a few days to find the survivors at the school, since we didn't come out near the farm. Thank God for small favors.”

  Tom nodded at this. “What did you find when you got there?”

  “Not much. They were surprised to see me and more than a little suspicious, especially when I started asking questions. Everyone I talked to said they hadn't seen anything associated with the government, military or otherwise, since just after the End. But the Old Man and someone else, another guy... they both seemed like they knew more then they were letting on.” Angie stopped briefly to adjust a strap on her pack, continued when she resumed walking. “We'd been here for a couple days when I got a feeling that something wasn't right. They made us 'guests' at that point.” Her pause was longer this time and the discomfort she wore had nothing to do with her knee. “We managed to convince some of them to help us escape. We tried to help the rest...” She trailed off and the others let the conversation lapse into a respectful silence for a few minutes.

  “What happened to Caleb?” Tom intended to be gentle, knowing no other way to ask than directly. “I'm sorry-”

  “Don't be,” Angie said. “We realized we were being followed at end of the second day. Caleb said he'd draw them out and off our trail. We were supposed to meet at the old fire station the day before yesterday. He might still be there.” This last trailed off before she fell quiet.

  “Think it's worth heading back to?” Tom asked.

  She nodded. “Can't think of anywhere else to go. Besides, even if he isn't waiting there, it's not far from the station to Respite.”

  “So... How do we get there?” The Shepherd watched her while he asked, keeping it as casual as he could. “The station, I mean. So we can try to meet up with Caleb and let him know what's going on here.” He saw that she understood why he was asking. Neither of them looked at her leg, but they both knew she wouldn't be making the trip.

  To this end, she gestured for him to come closer. He leaned as close as he could without impeding her forward motion and without drawing Toby any nearer. Her voice pitched low and for his ears alone, she said, “If I tell you, you need to do something for me. For Ben, really. And I'll have your word on it before hand.”

  Tom looked at her dubiously. “What is it?” He realized the stupidity of
the question even as it passed his lips.

  Angie shook her head. “Promise, first.”

  The small group pressed on quietly for several minutes, and Tom and Angie studied the house in the midst of the clearing. They watched it burn and heard fragments of shouting from those attempting to put out the fire. Meanwhile, Janessa and Toby held their own hushed conversation. Ben was part of neither discussion, trailing along behind the others and silent as a ghost.

  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.”

  3.9

  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.