Shepherd's Watch

by Angie Counios

  She holds my gaze and I think she knows I’m telling the truth.

  “Would you like to come with us?” I venture.

  “Yes,” she says, “but not without my sister.” At this she turns and rushes into the woods.

  Charlie gets to his feet quickly and chases after her, but I stay put. He turns back towards me, “What are you waiting for? Come on!”

  “We can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t know anything about her. She could be leading us into a trap and try to kill us!” I exclaim.

  “Have you looked at her?” Charlie scoffs.

  I admit she’s small and likely couldn’t overpower us, but none of this feels safe.

  “She knows these woods way better than we do—”

  “Which is why we need to catch up to her.” He looks back to where the small speck of her purple hoodie is still visible in the deep woods.

  “Go. I’ll catch up,” I say.

  He glares anxiously at me. “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “Go, keep up with her. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Charlie throws me a questioning look, but at my hurried nod he takes off into the woods. I sprint down to the boat to pull it ashore, yanking it all the way up the bank. Whatever happens next, I want to be sure that we’ll have a way home.

  I pull out my phone and check the battery and signal. As long as it’s on, Gekas can find it if things go bad.

  It’s 11:38 a.m. I scan the trees for Charlie. He’s running down the deer trail we took before and I sprint after him.

  I only hope we’re not being led into danger.

  chapter 106

  The path twists and turns and I have to work hard to catch up to Charlie. Tasha moves between the bushes and beneath the branches far more easily than the two of us do, advancing just slowly enough that we can follow. There doesn’t seem to be a plan or method to the path she takes and each time she chooses one direction over another, I can’t figure out any particular reason why.

  I keep an eye on the sun and the shadows that spill through the trees. We’re travelling north-northwest, but I have no sense where we are in relation to the beach or our cabin. I’m glad I’m in charge of the compass this time—if it clouds over today, at least we’ll know how to get home.

  Our journey rises and falls up hills and across streams, and although there are several points where the land is marshy, Tasha takes us over conveniently placed logs without sinking into the bog. The wetlands lead to another small creek and we move quickly along its winding banks, but suddenly Tasha slows to a walk.

  Charlie and I keep our distance and fight for breath.

  “They always say living naturally is healthy,” Charlie wheezes.

  I’m thirsty and my voice comes out in a croak, “Why’d she slow down?”

  We watch her move to a fallen pine tree that hangs over a small pool. As we step closer, I hear the trickle of water. She turns and waves at us to follow. We struggle to keep our balance on the log, but she slips swiftly between the prickly, cobweb-covered branches. We scramble across and eventually come to a small opening where the cracked stump meets a sharp embankment. Water percolates out of the soil, cutting through the sand and mud, and she cups her hand under it and drinks. She prompts us to do the same.

  Charlie studies the water, seeing where it runs into the pool to form a coppery stain. An oily film reflecting a spectrum of colours floats on the water’s surface.

  “Is it safe?” he asks.

  She nods and urges us to drink.

  Charlie sticks his hand underneath and immediately smiles. “It’s so cold.” He fills his palm and sips. “But, wow, tasty.”

  I test it too. “Sort of metallic.” It’s refreshing in my dry throat.

  Tasha smiles. The things she may have done to keep hidden in these woods makes me anxious about her intentions, but her kind gesture prompts my sympathy. Besides, if she intended to hurt us, wouldn’t she have tried already?

  This is the closest she’s allowed us to get to her and I notice the little stray hairs frizzing out from her braid, her tanned, clean skin, and a faint musky smell. Despite having lived out here for so long, she seems healthier than most people her age. She’s thin and weathered, but she doesn’t have bags under her eyes or the little gut and blotchy skin from unhealthy, mass-produced food that people so often have.

  She manoeuvres past us and hops back onto the tree trunk. She’s on the move. I take a last quick sip of water, and Charlie and I follow her down the log and back onto the creek bank.

  We travel further northwest and the stream eventually disappears as we turn onto another animal path. The bush is thick, and at several points all three of us have to crawl on our hands and knees, but even so, the trail is never blocked by any of the obstacles Charlie and I encountered when we were lost. Every path we take has been charted in Tasha’s mind, walked, crawled, and refined to its most appropriate, most traversable form.

  We climb to the top of a hill and I look up at the sun, seeing that it has already started to drop in the sky. I check my phone.

  “Holy shit, Charlie. We’ve been out for more than an hour.”

  We scan the horizon. I can no longer see the lake, but I do see the remnants of the fire tower poking up through the trees on the horizon.

  “We’re about ten kilometres out, maybe more,” says Charlie.

  I point. “Looks like we’ve been skirting outside the edge of the old fire burn.”

  “These paths must be decades old.”

  “If you can even call them paths.”

  Tasha points at a deer trail that winds down the hillside. “No!” she yells.

  Charlie looks down the track to where she’s gesturing. “No what?”

  “Man is bad.”

  “Yeah, yeah, we know. You shouldn’t be hanging with us,” says Charlie.

  She’s annoyed. “No.” She gestures again. “Man is bad.”

  I look at the sun and the position of the tower and realize she’s pointing north. I point at the trail too. “Man is bad?”

  Tasha nods and smiles and I look at Charlie. “I think this trail will take us back to the cabin.” But we don’t consider this for long because she’s sprinted off again, down the other side of the hill. We have to race to catch up.

  At the bottom of the hill we come across a muddy, stagnant river and she moves along the bank toward a beaver dam, then steps lightly onto its soft, crackling surface.

  “That doesn’t look safe,” says Charlie.

  She’s halfway across. We need to follow or she’ll leave us behind.

  “Just don’t fall in,” I say.

  “Can’t be that bad,” Charlie says, a slight quiver in his voice.

  “Just a cesspool of beaver crap and leeches probably.”

  Charlie stares down at the dirty water. “Message received.”

  We clamber over the crisscrossed structure of chewed branches and mud, our legs cracking the mesh several times, and we have to struggle to untangle ourselves.

  On the other side, we follow Tasha until the willow and birch trees disappear and an old spruce forest rises above us. The sun is blocked by the crown of the forest and it’s no longer easy to tell how late in the day we are. I check the phone. No signal.

  Tasha picks up the pace, jogging between the trees, and we follow. We run in silence for what must be another half-hour, three ghosts racing through the woods.

  She comes to a halt, ducking behind a tall spruce.

  “What?” I ask, catching my breath.

  She points again. “Home.”

  chapter 107

  Through the thick forest is a small house built of hewn logs and mud. Its roof is steeply pitched, a crude little window sits beneath the peak. It isn’t pretty, not something Mom might call quaint
. It’s been torn out of the land with blistered hands, scraped arms, and ragged skin through years of hardship and adaptation.

  Tasha walks toward it, but I hold Charlie back.

  “What?” he asks.

  “We still don’t know who she is. We need to wait.”

  “You really think this is a setup?”

  I nod, keeping an eye on Tasha, trying to determine all the possible ways this could be a trap. I look around for exits, places that might be safe.

  She turns when she realizes we’re not with her and waves us over.

  I raise my hand. “Go on, we’ll wait here.”

  She looks confused but continues on to the house.

  Charlie moves in a wide arc along the tree line to my left, toward two small buildings perched behind the main house.

  “Where are you going?” I whisper loudly.

  “Scouting things out,” he says, pointing to my right, “you check that way.”

  I don’t like the idea of splitting up, but I move through the trees and try to remain alert to my surroundings. There is very little undergrowth, so there’s little likelihood that someone could sneak up without us noticing. I wish we had something to defend ourselves with, and when I spy a thick stick on the ground, I pick it up.

  Through the spruce, I see Charlie patrolling the far side, examining the first building. I hope he isn’t planning to go inside, but I highly doubt he’d pass up the opportunity.

  There’s no sign of Tasha at the house. I’m not certain if she’s waiting for us inside, but I have no interest in going in to find out. The roof slopes low to the ground on the sides like the witch’s house in an old fairy tale. I’ve seen enough horror movies not to trust a place like this.

  Charlie’s coming around the back of the smallest of the buildings behind the house. Far behind all the buildings, through the trees, I can just spot a clearing. As I walk toward it, some instinct making me move as quietly as I can, I come across a crudely constructed pair of crosses. Built from driftwood, they’ve been carved and shaped with care. Scratched into the smooth surfaces are the words mother and father.

  Charlie joins me. “The one building looks like some sort of food prep room or smokehouse, and the other is the crapper. I don’t know what Tasha eats, but trust me, do not go in there!”

  “Didn’t Tasha say her mother wouldn’t let her leave?” I ask. “But how can that be if she’s dead?”

  Charlie studies the earth below the crosses. “These graves aren’t fresh. The wild grass has grown over them.”

  “Maybe they died a long time ago?”

  He squats and scrutinizes the area. “But look, there’s barely any depression in the ground. ”

  “Perhaps she and her sister look after the graves?”

  “Or maybe nothing’s even buried here.”

  “You think she’s making things up?”

  He shrugs.

  This guessing game is unnerving, but it’s worse because I can tell that Charlie has no clue what to make of any of this either.

  We move back to the front of the house where Tasha left us and wait.

  “You think she’s hiding from us?” Charlie asks.

  “Why bring us here then?” I respond.

  “Maybe there’s an underground lair,” he suggests. “Or a tunnel that lets her sneak off into the woods.”

  My unease escalates and it must show.

  “Relax, Shepherd. Unless she’s a witch—which I doubt entirely—I’m pretty sure she’s still inside.”

  “Sorry. Just on edge. Something doesn’t seem right about this.”

  “Yeah, I agree, but there’s been plenty of time for her to finish us off and she hasn’t.” He starts toward the house.

  “Where are you going?!”

  “I think we’ve waited long enough. Time to move this along.”

  I tag behind. I’ve already learned that Charlie and I shouldn’t be separated for too long when we do stupid things. The door to the house is made of split wood, lashed together with rope and reinforced with cross pieces. Charlie knocks.

  Tasha comes to the entrance immediately and comes outside, closing the door behind her. “Scarlet’s sleeping.”

  Tasha’s sister.

  “Can’t you wake her?” I ask.

  “No, Mother says Scarlet should sleep.”

  Mother? Something’s definitely not right.

  Charlie seems to have no such concern, though. “Is Mother here?” he asks.

  She shakes her head no.

  Charlie looks into the sky for the sun. “I think we need to leave soon.”

  Tasha seems worried. “If I wake Scarlet too early, Mother will get mad.”

  Charlie ignores her. “You know, if you come with us to see the person who had the blue walls, Tasha, your mother is going to be mad anyway.”

  Tasha stands there, her eyes questioning, seemingly confused by Charlie’s dismissive attitude toward her parent’s wishes.

  He persists, “If you don’t come with us now, then Tony and I need to leave.”

  She considers this.

  Whether she’s trustworthy or not, I know it’s hard to disobey your parents—especially when people you’ve been told to avoid are trying to convince you to do it. I’ve done it more than once since meeting Charlie and it’s never gotten easier.

  “Okay. I’ll wake her,” Tasha says quietly.

  She retreats back inside but doesn’t close the door. For the first time, Charlie and I get a glimpse of her world.

  chapter 108

  Charlie steps inside first. “Whoa…”

  It isn’t until I enter that I understand how tiny the house really is. There’s a small table on one side, a wood stove in the corner, and a ladder that leads to the floor above. On the other side is a bench and above it, a small shelf of old books, including To Kill a Mockingbird, The Pearl, The Old Man and the Sea, and 1984. Some of them are tattered and burnt.

  Charlie studies the titles. “Some good reading here.”

  “There’s barely any room to move.”

  “Not all of us get to live in mansions, Shepherd.”

  I know it’s a dig, but I ignore it.

  “Hey, Shepherd, look.” Charlie has a book in one hand—Crime and Punishment by a guy named Dyovsky or something—and a picture in the other. He hands the photo to me. Like some of the books, it seems to have survived a fire. It has a white border like a retro Instagram filter, and shows a young couple in front of a red brick wall with vines trailing all over it.

  “You think it’s the parents? She sure doesn’t look like them.”

  Charlie shrugs. “If things are the way we think they are, she wouldn’t.” He picks up another thick book, this one a collection of plays by Shakespeare, and flips through it. “Who do you think Rebecca is?” He shows me the inside cover. The name appears in blue ink over and over, as if a young child had been practising how to print it.

  “Another kid?” I ask.

  “Three of them?”

  “Maybe.”

  “So where is she?”

  Tasha interrupts us as she descends the ladder, holding a tightly swaddled infant in her arms.

  Scarlet is a baby.

  “Can we help?” I ask.

  She looks at us strangely, holding the bundle close. “No.”

  Charlie shows her the picture. “Are these your parents?”

  She gets a distant look. “No. I don’t know those people.”

  “They aren’t the ones buried out back?” he asks.

  She gives us a quizzical look. “Never go out back.”

  “Says who?”

  “Mother.”

  Charlie and I glance at each other. The sooner we get out of here, the better.

  “Do you need anything else?” I ask.

/>   She looks around the tiny room. “No.”

  “Then it’s time to go.”

  chapter 109

  We follow Tasha, still holding her sister tight, through the spruce forest, and I still can’t figure out how she knows where she’s going. I can’t see the sun, but it’s darker now. Night must be coming soon. I could check my phone, but I’d rather not know; by the time we get home, Mom and Dad will be ready to freak on us anyway. And I’m guessing that when they see who we’ve brought back with us, it’ll be even worse.

  Charlie falls back beside me. “Man, this is getting messed up.”

  “Like, who exactly are we bringing back?” I ask.

  “Yeah. And if the people in that photo aren’t her parents, and the bodies out there aren’t them either, then who does that leave us with?”

  “I told you before, we have no clue who Tasha really is,” I whisper.

  “Maybe she’s just been out here alone with her sister too long.”

  “Scarlet? The sister who seems a little too young?

  Charlie shakes his head. “Yeah, I suppose one sort of needs a dad for these things.”

  “Where’s any male, for that matter? Or the mysterious mom? We are so off the rails on this…”

  He sighs. “I know. I thought that we’d get answers by coming out here, but—”

  “All we have are more questions,” I finish.

  He walks silently beside me and I can tell he’s frustrated.

  “I’m used to things falling into place,” he says a minute later. “I come up with a plan and things seem to somehow work out. But this time, I feel like we’re just drifting along without direction.”

  I think about how people keep telling me our past luck has been only that—luck. A knot twists in my stomach. “Charlie—”

  “No,” he cuts me off. “I got us into this mess, Shepherd. I’ll see what I can sort out.” He scoots ahead and I close in to listen.

  “Tasha, who’s out here with you?” he asks.

  “I told you. Me, my sister, and Mother.”