A Shepherd's Calling (What Comes After Book 2) (10 page)

The Shepherd cut her off, gently but firmly. “Janessa. Did you accept my offer?”

Fuming, she answered through clenched teeth and balled her left hand into a fist. “Yes, I did. What does that have to do with-”

“
Then you seek a better Way.” The Shepherd interrupted her again. This time, his voice was quieter and he became very still. He stared into her eyes until she sighed explosively and relaxed her fist.

When she did this, he relaxed a bit, as well. “You are still here, yes? You survived the culling of your old community, did you not?”

She drew breath to answer, but he would not permit it. “Even now, in the presence of a man who would rather you and your brother be dead, who arranged the fall of your old community, you are both still alive. Is this true?”

Janessa nodded. Several seconds passed before she asked, “So, what're you saying? There's some miracle in store for us? Like, we don't get killed or kicked out when we get there? 'Cause let me tell you, I don't believe in miracles.”

The Shepherd shook his head. “That's not what I'm saying. But
your
choices got you this far. All I'm asking is that you have some faith. Just a little. In yourself. In me. In God, if you so choose.” A faint smile touched his lips. “You might be surprised at what it can do.”

He waited for Janessa to continue arguing, but she said nothing. Instead, her brother offered a point of contention. “Man, now I
know
you crazy. Straight whack, man.”

Turning to Toby, the Shepherd's eyes were dark and intense, his countenance a storm cloud of barely contained anger. Seeing this, Toby held up his hand and began blinking rapidly. “We're going with you, man. We know the score.” His accent was thicker, evidence of his anxiety in the face of the Shepherd's displeasure. The words were heavily distorted:
We gon witchoo, man. We no da scow
.

The Shepherd was satisfied with the answer. Turning to Chris, Tom gestured to where the marines sat. “Shall we inquire after the nature of the delay, Master Hunter?”

The aging instructor grinned broadly. “I thought you'd never ask.”

5.1

Tom and Chris entered the small copse of trees, stopping beside the two marines within. To the Shepherd, the Major seemed pensive. Having retrieved his own field glasses during the approach, Tom used them to see what so concerned the military men.

Nearly half a mile away, across a stretch of gently rolling ground carpeted in knee-high grass, a covered bridge crossed some kind of divide. That divide cut across the length of the field, a winding, wandering line as far as the eye could see in either direction. That there was bridge to cross it told Tom going around could be problematic. That the bridge was covered implied it crossed a stream as opposed to a gorge or ravine. What was most interesting about the scene, though, and what was no doubt the focus of the marines attention, was on the road leading to the bridge.

On the side of the bridge closest to where Tom's small band stood watching, there was a vehicle stopped on the road. More specifically, it was parked broadside across the road, as though seeking to block entry to or from the bridge. A covered truck of some kind, it was very box like, with large tires and a tall antennae array. There was a large weapon mounted to the top of the vehicle, near the front, which appeared unmanned for the moment. In the middle of a road in an open field, the truck could have scarcely been more visible. It's body was white, lending great contrast to the two letters painted in black on the doors: 'U.N.'. Near the truck, a couple of men milled about on the road, dressed in camouflage fatigues with full field kits and equipment. They carried long arms of some kind, but whether assault rifles or carbines was difficult to tell at this range. Unmistakable as the white of the truck they guarded was the blue of their helmets.

“
Can you see where they're from?” Vargas asked as he returned the binoculars to his eyes.

There was a delay before the prone man replied and even when he did so, he continued to look through the optics on his weapon. “No, sir. Not from here.”

“
Peacekeepers, Major?” Turner asked, calling up from behind the others.

“
So it seems.” The officer was quiet, his tone even and thoughtful.

“
If you don't mind my asking, sir: what are they doing?” The Corporal's voice was fidgety.

“
They appear to be looking for something. Or waiting for something.” The Major's voice, still measured, became quieter.

A heartbeat later, the radioman blurted, “Are they looking for us? Sir?”

“
Why don't you find out for us, Corporal?” There was another message in Vargas' tone:
stop asking stupid questions
.

While Turner began to remove the radio from his back, the Major spoke again. “Scan only. DO NOT transmit.”

“
Yes, sir”

During this exchange, Tom looked at Chris. Relief washed through him when he saw his old teacher's face mirroring the same confusion he felt. With those expressions, the two men seemed to be saying to each other,
If these guys are really U.S. Marines working with N.A.T.O. and those guys on the road are really with the U.N., shouldn't they be on the same side? What is going on here?

“
Is there a problem?” Tom kept his voice quiet, similar to how Vargas had spoken. He did not wish to overtly intrude on the other man's thoughts.

“
I don't know yet, Mr. DuPuis. Let's give Turner a minute to find out if there's anything to overhear.” The marine lowered his binoculars again but did not put them away. Instead, he remained intent on the bridge and what was around it. “In the meantime, could you tell me if you can make out what colors are on the patches on their shoulders? You're younger than I am and no doubt have much better eyes.”

Tom watched the two men on the road for nearly half a minute. Though he strained, squinted and made every effort not to blink, his binoculars did not reveal anything of note on the men's left shoulders. Even though both men, in the course of their patrol circuit, turned to show all sides, he could detect only one patch their respective duty blouses.

“
I'm sorry,” Tom said at last. “I just see a blue circle on each man's right shoulder. I can't tell what's on the left.”

“
'Cause there's nothing to see,” Chris chimed in. Like the prone marine, his voice was distorted from speaking into the butt-stock of his rifle. Where the marine was laying on the ground, the Hunter remained standing, his fore stock resting on a stout pine branch while he viewed the area through his own scope. “No state or country identifiers. When I was active duty, only some former Soviet-bloc countries and a few African nations did that.” The older man cleared his throat. “Those fellas are too pale to be African, so that narrows it down a bit.”

After Chris had made this observation, Tom glanced over his shoulder at the radio man. Turner had one hand on the radio, near a panel of buttons, switches and knobs. The other hand pressed a receiver to his ear, to which he listened closely while occasionally pressing a button or turning a knob. Only moments after Tom had turned to watch him, the Corporal looked up at Vargas and shook his head. “Normal frequencies are quiet, sir. No activity on the other channels, either. Would you like me to check again?”

The Major appeared to consider this, but ultimately declined. “No. Seems unnecessary, at this point. We'll definitely have you check again later, though. Let Dettweiler know we're coming to him.”

Vargas turned to Nadeau. “Look to you like they're just sight-seeing, Sergeant?”

“
That it does, Major,” Nadeau replied.

The other marine said this while getting up into a crouch. He packed the rifle away in a canvas-style bag covered in the same omnipresent digital camouflage as the weapon itself. He tied that bag to the side of his rucksack, stood and shouldered his burden. Retrieving the carbine propped against the tree he had hidden behind, the Sergeant turned to the officer. “What a coincidence, huh, sir?”

Vargas nodded, putting away his field glasses. “Ready to go, Mr. DuPuis?”

Tom looked to Chris, who nodded and climbed out of the cluster of trees they had been using as cover while they observed the bridge. He then looked left, saw Janessa, Toby and Ben standing just behind Turner.
All my ducks are in a row
, Tom thought. He nodded to the Major.

“
Then let's rejoin the others. Nadeau, bring up the rear. Turner, stay with our guests.” With that, Vargas took point and they moved out.

The officer lead them due west, remaining well inside the tree line. A ten minute march brought them out along a game trail of some kind, and Vargas quickly followed it to a small mound of earth and stone, covered and surrounded on all sides by shrub and grass. Tom was struck briefly by a feeling of deja vu: this path seemed eerily reminiscent of the one he and Ben had used just a few short days ago, to flee a mob of Turned that had overrun the ruined house in which they'd hid for a time.
So many miles
away, yet so many things the same. I hope this one leads to a better place, and that no one here suffers Eric's fate.

He pushed the musing from his head when he saw movement in the bushes about the mound. Before Tom could raise his rifle, Chris caught his elbow. Looking back at the older man, he saw the Hunter shake his head. When next he looked at the pile of stones and shrubs, Tom saw the large form of Dettweiler appear beside Vargas. The two military men spoke in quick, hushed voices while the others caught up.

Tom felt a hand clap him soundly on the shoulder. Turning, Tom saw the stocky form of Nadeau moving past him. The marine had a slight smile on his dirt-smeared face, and he spoke in a gruff voice. “Nice to see someone was paying attention.”

When Tom reached the cluster of rocks and brush, he heard Dettweiler replying to Vargas. “I understand that, Major, but I don't know a faster way around without putting us in their area of observation.” The large man ceased his quiet rumble when he noticed the arrival of Tom and the other civilians.

The Shepherd resisted the urge to speak first.
The first voice isn't necessarily the best, nor is the loudest necessarily right
, Father Jacob had said on several occasions.
Hold your words until they are necessary. When you must speak, do so concisely and with conviction. Remember: silence is seldom the wrong thing to say, and often the very best
.

The Major looked at Tom. “We're discussing how best to circumvent the men on the road back there.”

“
They won't help us?” The Shepherd asked.

Vargas and Dettweiler looked at each other. The Sergeant appeared ready to answer, but deferred to the officer when Vargas began to speak. “It's complicated,” the Major replied. “And waaaaaaay beyond what we're authorized to discuss with you. The short of it is this: things will be easier for everyone involved if they don't know we're here.”

Dettweiler continued when the other man paused. “It's further complicated by the fact that they seldom travel alone. There must be at least one other patrol vehicle somewhere close by, possibly as many as three more.” Now it was the Sergeant's turn to wait while the rest of the company considered his words.

Chris tapped Tom on the arm. “I have an idea, Shepherd.”

“
What might that be?” The Shepherd asked the Hunter.

The outdoors-man spoke deliberately, his eyes on Tom but his voice pitched for all to hear. “That bridge crosses a stream that cuts the width of the field ahead of us and back into the forest. Maybe six miles downstream, it dumps into a basin near an old water testing facility. We could make our way down to the facility, use the bridges there to cross over and make it to the marine's vehicles before sundown. We'd never have to leave the forest. That's the quickest way I can think of to get where we want to be and minimize our chances of being seen.”

“
That'll put us back at the trucks
just
before sundown,” the Major said. “Depending on what we hear on the radio, we might need to bed down for the night.” Vargas poked his tongue in his cheek before continuing. “Bet you already have a place in mind, don't you?”

The former teacher smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “As a matter of fact, I do: there's a cabin not far from the water testing area. We could get there before nightfall.”

It was mid-morning when they made their course correction. Dettweiler and Eby, bringing up the rear, mentioned they lost sight of the truck twenty minutes later. They pressed on, Nadeau and the Major in the lead with the rest of the marines scattered around the Shepherd's small band. As before, Tom and Chris walked together. Occasionally, they were joined by Ben, as the boy would range between those two and the siblings. For their part, the siblings kept to themselves, but welcomed the boy when he walked with them. During one of these times when it was just the Shepherd and the Hunter, the student asked his former mentor a question.

“
Why the water testing facility?”

“
Those U.N. boys are looking for something, but we don't know what. I imagine you're just as curious as I am about it, however. Near as I can figure, there are only three things out this way that are worth looking for. One is Respite, but I don't think that's it. More than ten years after the End... why worry about what's left of the communities, now?”

Tom agreed. He'd already said as much to Vargas earlier that morning. “Alright. What are you calling the second point of interest?”