A Shepherd's Calling (What Comes After Book 2) (3 page)

“
And why might that be?” Janessa looked from Tom to Chris.

“
Haven't figured that part out, yet,” Tom answered. “However things go tomorrow morning, I don't think they mean us harm. I also don't see them coming after us if we turn them down.” He took a few breaths and added, “I am curious, though.”

“
About what?” Chris and Ben asked at the same time. The older man and the boy both blinked, looked at each other and grinned.

Tom shook his head as he replied. “Where they got their information, how they got here, where they came from... all of it.” The last bit he did not ask aloud:
why me?

Toby grunted and began to stir. Janessa knelt beside him, immediately focused on her brother's return to consciousness. Digging through the pack beneath his head, she fished out one of his water bottles and pressed the thick plastic cylinder into his hand. He groaned and shook his head, which caused him to groan even louder and lay very still.

His sister chuckled. “Forgot that part too, huh? Drink some water, dumb-ass. It'll make you feel better.”

Toby stared daggers at Janessa, who continued chuckling and shook her own head. She looked to those standing near her. “So it's settled, then?”

The Shepherd and his former mentor had been staring at each other during the siblings exchange. Still looking at Chris, Tom replied to the young woman. “Is what settled?”

“
Where we're going tomorrow. I figured I'd get Mr. Lazy Pants up and working, again.” She gave Toby a playful kick in the leg.

Nodding, the Shepherd confirmed it for her. “Let's plan on leaving in the morning, after our conversation with the marines. While we're sorting out what comes next, why don't we hear about how you two know each other?” This was asked with the young man gesturing from Chris to Ben.
You see where I'm going with this, Mr. Farr?
Tom wondered.
How can you not?

For his part, Ben merely blinked, then looked from the younger man to the older man. “What's he mean?”

Chris put a hand on Ben's shoulder, squeezed reassuringly. In a patient, fatherly tone, the older man told the boy, “He wants to know how I met you and your ma.” Clearing his throat, his voice became firm, his words now directed at the Shepherd. “I'll relate why I left New Mont later, as it's less pertinent to the meeting of Ben and his mother. Home is not as you left it, Shepherd, but that's another story.” Chris held up a hand to stave off the interruption. “How I met them and what's happened since is relevant to what's happening now. Since time is limited, isn't that the more important part to tell?” He accented this question with a raised eyebrow.

Tom's jaw worked. Though it frustrated him, his former teacher had a point.
Clever as always, Mr. Farr,
he thought.
I should have known better. You're not going to make this easy, telling me why you are not where you should be. Always some other purpose, some ulterior motive. What lesson am I to learn
from this?

Chris looked around the vehicle bay, his bearing suggesting it was a place known to him. “This was where it happened. Where Angie, Ben and I first crossed paths.” He smiled and pointed to the locked aluminum shutter that served as a barrier to the outside world. “Well... technically, it was on the other side of that door.”

That thing was god damned
huge
.

Chris Farr leaned a little closer, checking the moist earth near the metal personnel door. The early morning sun was dispelling some of the shadows, but the mist could be playing tricks on his old eyes. One hand on the wall of the fire house, he bent lower still. Tracing the edges of the depression with his index finger, the outdoors-man could only shake his head in wonder.

He stretched his hand forward, palm down across the disturbance. Even splayed completely open, the outside edges of the print peeked from beneath the Hunter's hand. He suppressed a shudder that had little to do with the spring chill and Chris let his eyes follow the tracks. Clear as the day would be long, they trailed across the yard at front of the building and disappeared into the still darkened woods. Evenly spaced and cleanly pressed, this told him whatever had made the prints was likely unhurt and moving with some purpose. Like him, it was probably hunting. The tracks were fresh, too: only hours old.

This thought did not sit well with Chris. Frowning, he put his hands atop his knees, making to push himself out of his squat. Another thought occurred to him, and the impulse to rise was suppressed, every bit as much by habit as instinctive self-preservation.

There should be very few wolves in these parts, and none that large. Christ, that thing must be nearly my size.
Realization struck him with the force of a hammer. He felt his back stiffen while his guts twisted and tightened.

Idiot
, he chastised himself.
When are you gonna learn?

Eyes and ears alert, the older man slowly resumed standing. He winced at the popping of his knee and hip, more for the noise of their protest rather than any discomfort he felt. With exaggerated slowness, he turned toward the forest and began casually crossing the open field. While his stride suggested he was at ease, it was all Chris could do to keep his eyes focused ahead. He knew better than to rubberneck. That would only tell the hunters their prey was aware of something amiss and that time to strike was at hand.
Act natural
, he told himself.
You only need another dozen steps to make that tree, then you'll be fine
.
This ain't your first rodeo.

The rustle came a few steps later. As he suspected, it was behind him and to the right. However, it was
much
closer than he thought it would be. This far from the fire house, the grass and brush were close to knee height. Even if his pursuer were an accomplished stalker, slinking that close to the ground unseen would be a nearly impossible task.
And I would have heard or seen something before now
, Chris thought dryly.
I may be old, but I'm not deaf
. He silenced the rest of his thoughts when the rustling became a sliding whisper.

He knew better than to wait for another sound. There would be no growl or grunt or howl until after the chase had been joined and by then, it would likely be too late for him. A single step took him from stroll to sprint. He also knew better than to turn and deal with the one at his back. Not when he saw, from the corner of his eye, a large beast lurking just inside the tree line. He could see it pacing him, judging his speed and distance, ready to burst into the clearing at a moment's notice.

When the evergreen was but a few yards away, Chris felt the nip at his calf. The creature's teeth failed to find purchase, due to some combination of mistimed attack and the thick hide and denim that made up the his leggings.
Lucky, there
, he thought with quickened breath. His eyes still on the bigger animal to his left, he noticed it remained couched in the shadowed forest.

Means the next one's close enough
. His mind formed this thought, more emotional impulse than conscious connection of words, as he took one last step and threw himself at a branch nearly six feet off the ground. Grabbing the stout limb with both hands, he felt thick bark bite into his palms. With both arms wrapped around the heavy branch, he scrambled up the trunk of the pine with little grace but great success. He ended atop the branch in a half-crouch and moved to a more secure, seated position before looking down and confirming his suspicion.

Not one, but two animals glowered at him from the base of the tree. Their tails were high, fur on end, eyes focused and unblinking. Their muzzles angled up at him, prominently displaying pointed, yellowed teeth. Savage, unnatural sounds issued from mouths that opened and snapped shut viciously, as though their growling and barking could offer some projection of force to knock the human from his perch. The smaller of the two appeared to be part spaniel, if the spots and coat were any indicator. The larger one had the block head of a lab, but lacked the musculature to be pure bred.

“
Not today, little one,” he murmured.

Chris watched the two dogs at the base of the tree for a moment, then looked back into the forest proper. The eyes of the bigger animal still on him, but only for a heartbeat, before it turned it's massive head to the brick building. The Hunter did the same and noticed more movement in the trees on either side of the fire station.

So you weren't after me
, the man thought. He performed a series of rote motions, every bit as mechanical as the device those motions brought to bear.
You already had this place staked out.
The .30-06 was off his back and swung easily to his shoulder.
What, then, were you waiting for?
His left hand wrapped itself in the loose band of the sling twice before gripping the checkered wood of the fore stock, directly beneath the barrel.
What did I interrupt in search of my own breakfast?
His cheek rested against the cool pad on the stock, his left eye closing as his right eye took up the needed clearance to use the scope.
And for the love of God, how many of you are out there?

He was just beginning to sweep the far end of the tree line when he heard a banging thump come from the building.
That would be the door I was just checking
, he thought. Curious as to what had opened it, Chris opened his left eye and lifted his head. Just over the top of his scope, the older man saw something that made his jaw drop.

A boy stood in the doorway. He couldn't be more than 6 or 7, and he was alone. But that wasn't all. As soon as the boy stepped out of the building, there were two explosions of motion. Dark, furry blurs raced from the trees, one from either side of the clearing.

This close, the scope would be useless. With a minor movement of his head, Chris returned his cheek to the stock, sighted along the barrel and released the safety. He didn't need to account for wind, only range and movement. He put the barrel just under the head of the first dog and touched his finger to the trigger. He was so practiced with the weapon, and it was so finely tuned, that the shot seemed to fire when the Hunter no more than thought about the rifle going off. The report was almost immediately lost to the ringing that rose in his ears. The recoil of the shot pushed his shoulder, a firm reminder to chamber the next round.

Peripherally, he saw his first target drop while he brought his weapon back to his shoulder. He knew he had even less time now, so center mass was the only real option. He lined up with the dog's chest and squeezed the trigger a second time. Another crack, another thump of recoil. Working the bolt, the Hunter saw the devastating effect of his shot: spine and shoulders shattered, the animal convulsed mid-step, jerking to the side. It crashed into the brick wall of the fire house, then collapsed into a twitching mass of fur just yards from where the child still stood.

Seeing that the boy was clear from immediate danger, Chris surveyed the clearing and tree line. Several spots of rustling motion and scattered yips, each growing more distant. Of the larger beast, there was no sign. The only indicator it had ever been there was a momentary waving of shrubs and leaves where it had watched the attack.

Just the two, then,
the Hunter thought, saddened.

Looking down, he saw the dogs still at the base of the tree. The spaniel-mix was scrabbling at the trunk, trying to find purchase enough to climb off the ground. While it had eyes only for the man above, its larger companion had turned away. With ears raised, the lab listened to the sounds of the pack as it retreated. A moment later it bolted, no doubt meaning to rejoin the group.

Chris couldn't take the chance that the dog might change its course at the last minute and turn toward the boy. Again raising the .30-06 to his shoulder, the Hunter sighted along the side of the barrel to draw his bead. When the child was no longer in his sight picture, Chris touched off the shot. Even after all these years, it was still hard for him to watch. Graceful, loping strides became a clumsy trip and haphazard splay of limbs. At least he couldn't hear it whine.

When Chris turned back to the spaniel, it was looking from him to where the larger dog had gone. It stopped barking and dropped onto all fours. It watched him, head cocked to the side and ears perked up, as he worked the bolt. The animal seemed distracted by the shining flash of brass when the spent cartridge was cleared from the chamber. Chris thought it looked hopeful when its eyes met his again, their respective gazes connected by the black barrel of the rifle.

“
Not today, little one,” the man said quietly. He exhaled thunder and the small creature was no more.

“
Hold up.” Toby had regained consciousness during Chris' retelling and was waving his hands, looking at the outdoors-man “You mean to tell me a dog ran you up a tree? Man, you
real bad-ass.
”

The older man smiled and shook his head. “Not one dog: a pack. After you've been out in the world a while, you'll understand. They hardly ever move around on their own. They're just not solitary animals.”

Toby looked at Ben, gestured at Chris. “What he look like up in that tree, little man? Musta been pretty goofy, right? Watchin' a grown man climb like a monkey or somethin'.”

It was Ben's turn to shake his head. “I didn't see him get up the tree. He was already in it when I saw him. I didn't see him get down, either.” A smile crept onto the child's face. “But yeah, I think he woulda looked pretty funny.”

Chris tousled the boy's hair. The older man's smile deepened as he continued. “Angie had reached him by that point, pulled him down and covered him with her own body. Neither of them saw that I was pretty spry for an old guy. That let me retain my dignity for a few more minutes, anyway.”