As promised, he found the others in the den. When he entered, it was clear to the Shepherd he had interrupted a discussion. Knowing better than to get involved, he instead went to the window nearest the rear door. Placing his pack against the wall and laying his folded coat atop it, Tom crossed his feet and slowly sank into a seated position beneath the window, rifle across his lap. He removed his hat and placed it on his coat, then let his head rest against the wall. No sooner had he done so than his stomach renewed it's insistence to be filled.
The young man sent his left hand in search of food. Sliding beneath the coat and around the cover flap of his rucksack, Tom's questing digits found their goal. Pulling out a small, tightly wrapped item, the Shepherd slowly released the knots keeping the pouch closed. Tom was aware of three pairs of eyes watching him bring a pod of peas to his mouth. Looking up at Angie first, then Greg, he bit the pod in half, causing it to snap. Chewing as they continued to watch, he told them, “Don't stop on my account.”
“We were just about done, anyway.” Angie said, clearing her throat as Greg scowled at her.
The Shepherd nodded. Swallowing the peas, he produced a strip of jerked venison. Before tearing off a chunk, he looked at the woman and the larger man. “Alright. Since I have your attention, what can you tell me about the farm?”
2.6
The grounds were exactly as Greg described. A farmhouse was situated at the north of a several acre parcel, with smaller outbuildings around a large barn that had seen better days even before the End. Being just after sunrise, he expected the place to be bustling and he was not disappointed. Between the chicken coup and the corn field behind the barn, Tom counted half a dozen individuals, but it was the figure on the roof of the barn that held his attention.
The man there alternated position on the uneven shingles, at times sitting, at times laying. While he would occasionally turn to face this way or that, he remained in the same place on the roof, never straying far from a tall ladder. Twice, the Shepherd saw the other man raise binoculars; once turning away to check the northern half of the farmland and minutes later, turning back towards Tom to check the southern portion. Occasionally, the man would use his field glasses to check west, but the majority of the time he spent facing north or south.
It made sense that some manner of guard would be posted here. After all, this seemed where the bulk of the community's food was grown and stored. Something about it did not sit well with Tom, however. It wasn't just the fact the man had a rifle within arms reach. What would be the point of posting a guard if he were not armed? But why was the man so focused on those two directions? The Shepherd could not determine the source of his disquiet, but had long ago learned to trust his instincts on these matters.
While Tom moved quietly around brush and trees to his next vantage point, he thought back on the early morning trek that had brought him here. It had taken little convincing to get the Sentry, the woman and the boy to accompany him. Whatever reservations they had about going to the farm of their own volition dissolved when they realized they had only one more meal. There were other concerns to allay, but those had been reasonable.
“But why at night? Why can't we wait until morning?” Angie's concern seemed genuine, borne form anxiety or fear rather than inconvenience.
“We need to be quick,” Tom replied. “If we wait until morning, we could be more than half a day behind them. Not to mention we'll need to travel slower so we aren't spotted. They might have reinforced the farm already, which'll make it that much harder to get what we need and do what we must. At the very least, they'll have had time to figure out what they want to do.”
Greg countered in his baritone. “So it's better for us to travel through the ruins at night, when we know the Muppets are more active. Safer for us to cross the river in the dark, when we can't see the rocks until it would be too late to turn away from them. Besides, didn't you say earlier that they would have their hands full, for a while?”
“That I did. If you saw the size of the horde barreling down the road toward the school, you'd have said the same thing. But their leaders are crafty. You know this. You also know they have a lot of hands to get things done quickly. We do have an advantage in time, but we need to keep going if we're to make the most of it.” The Shepherd spoke firmly, but not without patience. These people have forgotten their drive, if they'd ever had it to begin with. Maybe they just got soft. Knowing you have another meal coming will do that, he thought.
Tom saw the fatigue and reluctance on each of their faces. He sighed. “I didn't say it would be easy. I said it would be our best chance.” He looked at his companions as he continued. “Nothing we do now will be easy. Nothing we've done since the End has been easy. The easy thing to do would be to curl up and wait to die. If that's your inclination, I see a corner over there.”
Greg's face darkened. “How dare you-”
“How dare I what? Call you out for getting cold feet when things get rough?” Tom watched the larger man clench and unclench his fists. “You angry?”
The Sentry glowered, his voice a quiet hiss. “What do you think?”.
The Shepherd nodded. “Good. Anger is a gift. Let's use it to finish what you started.”
Tom found a suitable place to make the next observation, so he got down on his belly and raised his binoculars. Since he'd come around to the east side of the property, he was afforded a well-lit view without needing to shield his eyes. He scanned for several minutes, paying particular attention to the buildings between the house and barn. It made sense that they would have repaired the damaged pen as quickly as possible, which would explain why he had yet to notice it. His plan didn't require the pen to still be damaged, at any rate. Besides, he would have time to take a better look when he was closer, even if that examination would be hurried.
As he considered his possible courses of action, Tom saw someone appear from the trees on the western edge of the property. Raising the binoculars to his eyes again, the Shepherd found he recognized the figure jogging towards the farmhouse. Isn't that Toby?
The runner disappeared into the house only to exit less than a minute later, with another person in tow. The Old Man was pulling on a light coat to ward off the early morning chill as they stepped off the wrap around porch and began crossing the yard. They moved with purpose to another group that emerged from the same trees that produced Toby. Tom turned his field glasses to the new group and nearly swore aloud when he counted two large men among it's number, one ebon, one alabaster. In order to curb the impulse, he bit down hard on both lips and let the physical pain meld with his frustration before washing both away.
“The Lord will offer you no burden you are unable to bear.” Father Jacobs voice spoke soothingly from the past. Sighing explosively, Tom shook his head.
There was a brief exchange when both groups finally came together, near one of the outbuildings. Shane and Rujuan shared a few words before the Old Man turned to Greg. The Sentry shook his head slowly, more intent on his bound hands than meeting Shane's eyes. Something about Greg's bearing or answer displeased the Old Man, as Shane quickly grabbed a fistful of Angie's hair and jerked her head back violently. Greg took a step toward Shane, no doubt to free the woman, but instead fell to his knees when Rujuan struck him in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun. Undeterred, the Old Man stormed to the large, sliding doors at the front of the barn, dragging Angie behind him by her hair.
Tom watched another man pull one of the doors open before Shane and Toby entered the darkened barn, bringing the boy and the woman with them. They were inside perhaps half a minute before returning to view, without the mother and son. Shane looked at Rujuan and gestured to the house. He seemed to say something to Toby, who nodded before stepping back into the barn and pulling the large door closed.
The Shepherd had heard no gunshots or screams since Angie and Ben were brought into the barn. While they might be hurt, they were most likely still alive. He would need a way to free them and
Greg, as well. This in addition to the original tasks of getting enough food for the start of their journey and releasing the remaining 'stock' being held here. Time was of the essence, but all of those things took a back seat to the most immediate priority. During the 'reunion' between Shane and Greg, Tom had seen Rujuan and Toby, but not Janessa. These are not circumstances to further divide your numbers, Tom thought. So, if Rujuan is here with his team, where does that put her? Probably looking for me.
As if on cue, he heard a branch pop softly ten or so yards to his left. Turning his head a fraction of an inch, Tom could just make out the form of a person moving slowly through the trees. While it moved in his general direction, it did not move directly toward him. After a moment, he realized she was looking down, trying to follow his tracks and trail sign. She hasn't seen me yet, he thought. If I can keep this pine between us, I might be able to get the drop on her. Tom knew better than to expect it to work. After all, it was the sort of thing he'd seen in movies when he was a child. But a slim chance of avoiding detection was better than the guarantee of it if he remained where he was.
Quietly as he could, the young man set his binoculars atop the pack resting beside him. Watching Janessa closely, he waited for her focus to return to the ground. When it did, Tom pushed himself up and pulled his body into a crouch against the tree trunk, painfully aware of the noise he made in the process. Each shift of muscle, every scrape of skin against low-hanging leaves, the rustle of his clothes as they stretched or folded: every sound an auditory explosion seeking to give away his position.
He suddenly found himself grateful that these people did things differently than he had learned. While he had been critical of Dust's allowance for Mike to go off on his own, Tom recognized that if Rujuan had not done the same here, his number might be up. Two pairs of ears to hear his movements, two sets of eyes to read the ground for his trail sign, two armed persons to deal with. That situation would likely end much differently than this one.
He listened intently, picking up every sound of Janessa's slow, measured steps; the rustle of her clothing, the creaking of her boots as she shifted her weight, the whisper of the leaves and pine needles sliding underfoot with her every step. Tom heard Janessa stop, or more precisely, registered the silence and interpreted the lack of noise as her cessation of motion. He found his mouth suddenly dry and his eyes resting on the rucksack only a few feet in front of him. She sees it, he thought. She knows I'm close.
Several long breaths passed as Tom waited for her to make her decision. Eventually, he saw the barrel of her weapon appear from the other side of the pine. Creeping into view less than a foot away from his right shoulder, he waited to see it bounce before he acted. Nearly six inches of it were revealed before he saw the tell-tale wobble of the front sight as she took a near noiseless step.
She's good, Tom thought as he moved. He crossed his left hand over his chest and grabbed the cool metal directly ahead of the wooden stock. He did this so he would be able to face her squarely as he turned his hips and stepped away from the tree. Applying pressure down and away from the two of them, the Shepherd emerged from behind the tree as the rifle was pushed gently but insistently away by the force of his step. As he came into view, Tom raised a finger to his lips and looked Janessa in the eyes.
She didn't panic or flinch, nor did she twitch and pull the trigger. Like him, she seemed to be waiting for something. They stood in the dwindling shade of the forest at sunrise and watched each other for a few moments. Tom moved the finger from his lips and opened his hand, slowly bringing it to his side with the palm out toward Janessa. His other hand retained its grip on the barrel of her rifle, but he pushed it no further away. Quietly, almost casually, the young man posed a question to her. “What were you going to do when you found me?”
Just as quietly, she answered. “Hadn't figured that part out, yet. Suppose it depended on how I found you.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Let's say you found me like this.”
Janessa scowled, marring her pretty face. Giving a light tug on her weapon, she made a pointed observation. “Guess I wait for you to either let go of my rifle or tell me what you want.”
Almost immediately, Tom released his grip. This so surprised the young woman that she nearly toppled over from the pressure she had been applying against the Shepherd's hold. She stared at him almost stupidly, open-mouthed with disbelief.
In the same quiet, casual voice, the young man addressed her reaction. “If I'd wanted you dead, I would have shot you already, or come at you with my knife. If you mean me no harm, I mean you no harm.”
Janessa blinked at him. “So, are you coming with me or not?”
The Shepherd stared back her. “Maybe. Are you headed to the farm over yonder? 'Cause that's where I'm headed.”
The young woman nodded mutely.
“Then it looks like we'll be traveling partners for a spell.” Tom offered this with a smile, then turned and picked up his own rifle and pack. When the rucksack was upon his back and the rifle slung over his shoulder, the young man turned back to Janessa. He found her regarding him with the same awestruck expression she'd had when he relinquished control of her weapon.
“What are you going to do?” She couldn't help but grin sheepishly as she asked the question.
Tom offered a wry smile in return. “You know, I hadn't thought about it. Depends on what I find when I get there, I guess.” The smile remained on his lips but slowly left his eyes. “What will I find when I get there, Janessa?”
Seeing that look, the young woman thought to bring her rifle back to bear on the Shepherd, but stopped just as she began to move. She hadn't seen his right hand drift back to his belt, but now saw his fingers tapping the black grip of the revolver holstered there. She froze in place and looked back at him with narrowed eyes.
Tom shook his head. “The time for that has passed,” he said. “I have business on that farm and mean to see it done. I'd welcome your assistance if you'll offer it. Otherwise... I recommend you toss that .30-06 aside and clear on out before things get ugly.”
Janessa ground her teeth. “Ain't givin' up my rifle, even if I ain't stoppin' you. That'd be suicide.”
“Then you've got two options,” the Shepherd offered, outlining her possible courses of action. “You can help me do the right thing.” Here he paused, expecting her to interject. He was not disappointed.
The young woman snorted. “'Right thing'? What is that, exactly?”
“Get Angie and Ben out of the barn and away to somewhere safe. Well, safer than here, at any rate. Greg, too, if we have time. You'd be free to go your own course, after that.”
Janessa shook her head. “Nah,” she said. “Think I'll take option two: stand aside and watch you get your dumb ass killed all on your own.”
Tom sighed. “I applaud your loyalty, but that isn't the other option as I see it.” He saw the wheels turning in her head, watched realization dawn in terrible light on her beautiful features. In the same quiet voice he had used with Erik, he confirmed her fears. “Now, are you goin' with me or are you goin' in the ground?”
Her voice just above a whisper, she said, “I thought you didn't mean me any harm?”
The Shepherd nodded, sadness on his face. “That was before you tried to ready your weapon on me a second time. I can't leave you behind me with a loaded gun after you said you'd rather watch me die.” She looked ready to say something else, but he cut her off. “Discussion time's over. What's it gonna be?”
She stared at him mutely, caught somewhere between hate and horror.
“Empty it.” Tom watched her hands go through the motions, practiced to perform the action without conscious thought, much the same as he was. When she had removed the last round, he issued another command in the same mono-tone. “Give me the bolt.” Janessa appeared confused as she slid the weighted metal rod from it's bore at the top of the rifle and handed it to the young man.
The bolt immediately disappeared into the
Shepherd's coat pocket. When it was snug in that fabric prison, Tom pulled his own rifle from his shoulder. Ejecting the magazine, he transferred it to his other hand while he worked the bolt to release the chambered round. Having done so, he pressed the loose cartridge into the top of the stack and put the clip in his other outside coat pocket. Closing the chamber, he handed the replica M14 to Janessa.
“What... what's going on here?” Janessa's voice carried with it a note of puzzlement as she looked from the Shepherd's rifle, then to Shepherd himself.
“It isn't obvious? You caught me and you're bringing me in. Let's go.”
2.7
“Where are we going?” Janessa still sounded as though in a mental fog, but seemed willing to follow the Shepherd.
“The barn, by way of that shed.” Tom pointed to a small outbuilding between them and the larger structure. Sparing her a brief glance, he saw her clarity returning by the second. Father Jacob had mentioned intimidation had some advantages, but they were nearly all short term and at the expense of longer term gain. Confusion and temporary obedience were two of them, but neither tended to last long. Persuasion through reason was a better way. She's strong, Tom thought. I'll need to put the question to her soon.
They waited long enough for the guard on the barn roof to turn northward again, then they set off. Moving at a brisk walk, the Shepherd indicated the small shed and went directly to it. Since he chose where they were going, Janessa naturally fell into step behind him. This well-suited their deception, as anyone who saw them would notice her carrying two rifles and perhaps assume she was taking him somewhere at gunpoint.
What Comes After (Book 1): A Shepherd Cometh Page 12