24  Shepherds

Long. Long enough. A period of time long enough for nature to get them, Adonis thought, a waterfall of terror pounding through him with each throb of his heart. He had seen death before, obviously. He had watched his dad slowly die when he was basically a child. But never had he seen death as horrid and gruesome as this. He wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, as if he could squeeze the panic out of himself. Cold eyes, half-missing, sunk in their sockets, tears frozen. Scratches. Four whitish tips of ribs poking through a shirt. Blood. Rust-colored crust lining nostrils. Earth mixed with small chunks of ice and mingling with dry roots upturned all around the corpse. Paw prints churned in the mess, and Adonis assumed the gouges left in this guard’s body were from the teeth and claws of the same beast responsible for the prints. “Sam! What are you doing!” Adonis hissed as Sam edged slightly closer. Sam gently pressed his palm into Adonis’ abdomen to hold Adonis back as he knelt just inches away from it. “Shhh, it’s okay, Adonis. Let me just look at them for a second,” Sam said while injecting his voice with fake confidence to reassure Adonis. Sam analyzed the body as best he could with the darkness of the forest pressing in, and he noticed something strange about it. His eyebrows pulled together, but he jerked back on his heels as recognition flooded his mind. “Adonis, this is the guard who helped us escape the other night.” “No. No way. He had to be out here for longer. Sam, his ribs are literally coming out of his chest! He had to be rotting here for longer!” “No, I don’t think so,” Sam said sorrowfully. “Wolves got to him, but he’s been here for less than a week for sure. Blood is still stuck to his body in places. If he had been out here for awhile, it would all be gone now. The scent must have also attracted the wolves and whatever else has gotten to him, but I’m certain he’s only been dead for a couple days.” Adonis slowly lowered himself to the ground. He pushed a hand up his forehead, dragging his fingers through his hairline to rake all the loose strands back. His jaw trembled. He buried his hand back into his stomach and fiddled with the black hair tie that was still encircling his wrist. The selfish part of Adonis wished Aspen was here to put his hair up but the other half was glad that she didn’t have to see this. When he spoke, his voice was throaty. “Sam….he couldn’t have been older than sixteen. He was still a kid.” Sam waited a long time before answering. “I know.” “We wouldn’t have been able to escape without him. We would’ve been caught.” “I know.” “He’s been here since the beginning. I laughed in his face on the first day here, and Francis made a joke of him twice and he was my regular door guard-” “I know, Adonis! I know!” Sam clenched his hand and punched the ground as hard as he could.

As much experience as Adonis and Sam and everyone here had collected in their careers, they were not masterminds. They were not gods, nor superheros, nor could they turn invisible, nor did they not make sound when they stepped, all of which could have been extremely useful in the recent past. This ‘quick trip’ to the mountains was meant to be just that: uncomplicated, simple, likely just a rumor, and having to arrest someone for making the ‘bomb threat’ was implausible. Yet here they were, being told that saving this perfectly-ravaged town was left up to them. Briarcliff: a town with so many finely twisted tenebrous threads twined in between Odin’s fingers that it was laughably unrealistic that two mediocrely-prepped, early-twenties dudes should have to shoulder it all. And yet. Here. They. Were. Caught in it all. Caught in one hell of a tangled web. Caught, pulled, twisted, all between people they had barely met. Surface-level knowledge was all they had of the kid in front of them, but Sam could barely hold back his bile, and Adonis struggled to hold in his tears. They could not be undone now, not when everything was so close to working. Not when the agents were faithfully waiting for the ‘go.’ Not when the flock of Briarcliff’s children huddled in the field, shorn of their innocence, waiting for salvation while shivering in too-thin coats. Not now. Not now. Just keep it together, alright? We’ll be okay, Sam tells Adonis. Adonis nods. You’re right. Let’s go. We’ve got this. They’re tired. But if the wrong string were to break…

“Agents in position?” three ‘yeses’ came back to Adonis through his walkie-talkie. Trinity, Selena, nor any of the agents hadn’t thought to specifically seek out and bring two-way radios for whatever reason, and Adonis had managed to find only five scattered in the vans. Francis, as the leader of the driving team, possessed one and set to channel three, Adonis and Sam shared one on channel one, and the last three were distributed to the group around the childrens’ valley, also on channel one. Channel two was in-between, designated in case agents in channel one wished to speak only to each other.

“Prince, are you confident to lead after the children have been secured?” Sam leaned in and asked. “Yes, sir. I am prepared.” Prince became one of the radio-holders after Aspen made him the leader of the storm drain tunnels. “On my mark.” Adonis took back the radio. He stepped from the dappled-moonlight, created by the great pines’ feathery tips, into the crisp wash of bright moonlight. “Set.” He tied the top layer of his hair into a ponytail on his crown to keep it out of his face. His fingers brushed his cheeks, his mind betrayed him: he dared to wonder what the dead boy’s cheek felt like. Squinting, he steeled his mind and shook off the memory of his young, sunken face; nothing could be allowed to distract him from the alive children, the children who still depended on rescue from him. Sam and he were planning to return to the boy after tonight, learn his name and family, and give him a proper burial for his bravery and honor. “Now!” Agents without walkie-talkies watched those who did have them. On cue, they raised their hands and waved, jump-starting the group to walk down the hill and to the camp. Like ants returning to their hill, they crept down the mountainside towards the flickering bonfire centered in the ocean of tents. It seemed all the children were crowded around it, as well as the guards. The fire was the only source of light in the camp. The tents around the perimeter faded into darkness, and long ghastly shadows flickered ominously whenever someone in the middle moved.

Sam nodded to Adonis, who returned his nod, then split off and they lost sight of each other. Sam savored the crisp wind on his face, and took a deep breath of the air. The very clean air. Not air tainted with the thick-sweet smell of rotting- Focus, Sam told off his brain in a highly practiced way. Still, his brows drew together, the sunken face flashing in his mind too. Light and quick, he skipped between the boulders and tree trunks, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He was pretty sure all of the camp was gathered around the fire, but say, if a stick snapped at just the wrong second, he did not want a too-curious guard or child to trace the sound. It seemed that Aspen’s idea to get the children was going to be easier than they had anticipated. Her plan was to, with the least violence possible, immobilize each guard (however many there are) using their own handcuffs, and somehow clump the kids together and lead them away. Simple. Theoretically mess-free, but Sam knew that if it was really going to be this easy, someone would have done this before. After helping the agents and kids back to the entrance of the storm drain, he, Adonis, and the pre-selected agents would sprint to the manor and help Aspen. Nothing is ever as easy as that though, Sam thought, apprehensive. A grim thought dawned on him: Nobody can find that body. That would just be…too much. Finally, Sam reached the perimeter. He slowed and paused, his hands aloft and fisted, his front foot planted, his eyes sharp as he checked for safety around himself. A breeze stirred, rippling the canvas of a tent right in front of him. He caught eyes with Prince as he looked about, struggling to decipher it as Prince’s face in the hazy darkness. Nodding, Sam lowered his hands and resumed creeping towards the middle. Rustle. Sam whipped around. The sound didn’t seem like it had come from the right area to be Adonis, but: “Adonis? Adonis?” he whisper-called twice. Nothing. That means- He looked around again, certain it wasn’t an animal. He was right. The guard was already running, sprinting, raising a hand to her cheek, opening her mouth… Sam took off after her. He was determined to still be as silent as possible, as a scuffle right now would still attract too much attention. He alternated between watching the uneven ground fly beneath his feet and monitoring the guard’s progress as he gained on her. She cast one more look over her shoulder, flicking her head to the side, her long copper braid flying in a dramatic arc. Sam saw her draw in a sharp breath. No! “Help! I’m-” Sam barrelled into her, knocking her smaller frame to the ground with ease. He wrapped his left arm around her midsection to be a weak cushion between her and the ground, but he still cringed as they landed with a thump and he felt the air whoosh out of her. As a precaution, he covered her mouth with his right hand. Refusing to lose a fight, she fought her mouth open and bit down hard on Sam’s finger. He cursed and pulled his hand away, whipped his other arm out from under her, then drove his right elbow into the top of her back. Spluttering, she twisted and craned her neck to throw him a glare. Sam glowered back, and without taking his eyes off her as she fought to draw in a breath, wrested the handcuffs hanging from her hip. She sensed his hand pulling the cuffs free and bucked her hips to try to throw him off. He sighed, but didn’t move. “Get off me!” she hissed indignantly. Sam groaned dramatically and finally lifted his elbow from her back so she could breathe. “Look, I’m not against you. Unless you like Odin. Do you genuinely work for Odin?” “No, but I do like staying alive. We’re being watched, always,” she whispered back, jerking her chin at an unassuming tree growing a few yards away. Sam whipped around, searching the tree’s bark for something. He assumed she meant there was a camera hidden in it, but he didn’t immediately see the glint of a lens or the blink of a light, so he turned back to her and said, “Don’t worry about that anymore. It’s all being taken care of tonight.” “Great.” She sat for a moment more, mindlessly nudging a ridge of dirt with the toe of her boot. She looked back to Sam, who was watching her quietly. “Will you let me up now?” Sam jumped slightly. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” Yet he didn’t move. She gave a small shake of her head an expression that clearly said ‘what?’ “Promise you won’t take me down as soon as you get up?” “Pinky promise,” she said, rolling her eyes and holding up her pinky for extra theatrics. Sam hopped up and offered her his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” “Eh, I’ll be fine. So what are you doing, exactly? Are you working alone?” A wave of high-pitched screams rolled across the valley. Sam groaned and ran an anxious hand through his hair. “Other than wasting time with you, I’m supposed to be helping with that.” He flung his hand towards the vague center. “Just follow me, ok-?” Her boot came out of nowhere. One second, Sam was facing the direction towards the center, the kids’ irregular screaming echoing in his ears, then he was facing the dirt with a high, piercing pitch ringing in his head when his skull collided with something hard. Sam rolled onto his back, squinting at her angrily and clutching his head, and debating whether he was annoyed with her attitude or impressed by her ferocious kick. Offering no explanation, she swiftly knelt next to Sam to grab the handcuffs from where they had fallen, murmuring something, and quickly righted herself. Sam guessed what she was thinking when another guard thundered around the corner. His hair was as distressed as his face was flustered. He quickly recovered and a cocky air overcame him. “Taylor! There you are!” his voice boomed. He spread his arms wide like he was expecting a hug from the female guard. Taylor, apparently, Sam told himself. “I was looking all over for you. You’re missing all the fun.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, towards the noisy mess that was the center of the camp. Sam itched to get up and ditch Taylor with this dude, to help his coworkers like he should be. But something fluttered in his chest, urging him to wait for this to play out. Sam couldn’t read people like Adonis, but something went wrong with Taylor when this guy had come out of nowhere. Taylor rose on her toes and looked over his shoulder innocently. “It looks to me like you’re running away from all the ‘fun,’” she sweetly replied. He blustered for a moment, but quickly recovered by gesturing at Sam and laughing heartily. “And what’s this, Tay-Tay?” Sam worked his jaw, still puzzling. “I caught him,” she answered. Breezily. Confidently. The guard laughed again, a little too loudly. “Hah! Oh come on, really? You actually took him down?” He scoffed, “Come on, there’s no way you think I’m gonna believe that. A little thing like you, taking down a big guy like that.” He directed his next words to Sam, who was starting to feel revulsion closing up his throat. “You just gave in because of her pretty face, didn’t you? Well, hey man, no shame, no shame-” “Taylor?” Sam blatantly cut off the guard and turned back to her. There. The smallest tremor passed through her hand. Hm. “How old are you?” “I’m sixteen.” “Interesting.” Sam craned his neck back to the guard. The guard looked away and shifted his feet. Disgust rooted itself in Sam’s gut. “Very interesting.” Taylor is clearly uncomfortable near this dude, and I don’t like the way he talks to her at all. Sam reasoned that Taylor probably only took him down to use his capture as an excuse to be near Sam. Perfectly reasonable, and now that I think I know what she’s doing, I can help her… “Here, Taylor, give me those cuffs. I’ll show you how you put them on a prisoner,” the guard stepped over Sam, who had to strongly fight the urge to trip him, and reached out to Taylor. She quickly tossed the cuffs to him so he didn’t have to walk any farther. “Thanks, Boyer!” she enthusiastically said, emphasizing his name. She prattled on about how she hasn’t gotten the chance to use them yet, during which Sam mouthed ‘now?’ She shook her head, turning her shaking into excited nodding and an exclamation as Boyer glanced at her and overly explained the latch on the cuffs. “And then, all you gotta do is-” Boyer turned his back to Taylor and leaned over to Sam’s hand. Taylor screwed up her face, lifted her foot, and kicked Boyer. Sam rolled out of the way as he toppled forward, his face smashing into the slushy dirt-snow. Boyer groaned but recovered quickly and swept his leg wide, trying to catch Taylor’s ankles. She easily lept over his clumsy kick, her braid majestically arcing mid-air again, then bouncing in between her shoulder blades as planted a knee next to Boyer and repeatedly slugged him, pummeling him deeper into the dirt. Sam restrained a gleeful cackle at the sight. His humor had gone from dark to morbid while at the manor. Another group of screams rent the air. Sam was jolted back to reality. He got up, dusted himself off, and collected himself a bit before he cut in between Taylor and Boyer. “Excellent form, Taylor,” Sam gently put his palm on her shoulder. She froze with a jerk and blinked, like she was surprised. She slowly stood up, shaking out her fists, and Sam swooped in with exaggerated sarcasm: “Here, Taylor, this is how you put on handcuffs! I’ll even give you a demonstration!” Sam efficiently cuffed Boyer, who still pitifully laid in the mud, and told Taylor to grab one of his hands; he was coming back to the camp with them one way or another. His cowardice, nor his condescending mannerisms to Taylor, were not going to be rewarded. “Who is he, by the way?” Sam asked while prepping for their slogging in the mud by yanking Boyer’s wrist. Taylor chuckled when Boyer did not immediately belch out an answer. “Firstly, he’s a positively adamant supporter for Odin’s ideas. Secondly, he’s a disgusting creep, and thirdly, he’s got no backbone-” “I’ve got enough back for ya to stab it,” Boyer replied. “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you, buttface,” Taylor replied in her over-sweetened voice. “I am your captain! Treat me with respect, brat!” Boyer lifted his head to passionately yell around filth caking his lips. “I called you a backstabber!” Taylor dropped his wrist and lunged for a nearby tent-stake. “Want to make that literal, or keep it figurative?” she asked in a dangerously lowered voice. Boyer glared, but did not have an answer for her. “That’s what I thought.” “Alright Taylor, we’ve got to drag this lump thirty more feet. Stick with me,” Sam gently reprimanded her. He was keenly, painfully, aware of how much time this mess had used up. Precious time. The fine grains of precious time sifting away through the gaps in Aspen’s plan; she nor anyone else could have known which people at the manor would create problems. “Sorry, Sir.” “Sam,” he offered her. They walked closer and closer towards the center of the camp. When Sam could faintly see a golden glow of the bonfire through the canvassy sea, he paused and lifted a finger to his lips. Not like silence would matter much anyways, as Sam could clearly hear Adonis yelling for order and children screaming and the guttural sounds of fighting, but Taylor nodded and stopped as well. She patiently watched Sam for more cues. He gently placed Boyer’s wrist on the ground and peeked around the tents. He vacillated between just joining the fight or trying to make an entrance. Boyer looked between Taylor and Sam. Taylor was watching Sam, and Sam was watching the middle. He noticed their careful silence. So, Sam’s decision was made when Boyer drew in a deep breath and bellowed as loud as he physically could. Sam whirled around, hooked a hand in Boyer’s armpit, and forcing all his energy forwards, threw Boyer straight into the side of the tent they were hiding behind. Boyer was a fantastic wrecking ball. The canvas caved in, tent poles snapped, whatever was inside the tent cracked loudly, and both the children and adults screaming and fighting in turn were shocked to stillness. Taylor crossed her arms and smirked at them. Sam stepped over Boyer’s limp form, gesturing at him with a point, and said in a booming voice, “Guards! This is your captain! This is an order to cease fighting this second, or you will be punishable by law! Children, you are going to be escorted out of camp and taken to a safe location! We are not working for Odin, you will be safe with us, understand?” His answer was two-hundred-odd open-mouthed faces staring blankly at him. The agents quickly took down the rest of the guards. Sam put on foot on Boyer’s back to prevent him from moving any more, and fiercely monitored the children. He knew that the younger ones were likely terrified beyond their wits, but he hoped that some of the older teens in the group would be willing to trust and maybe even help the agents. Taylor leaned up to Sam’s ear and murmured something while pointing around the circle. “Wait! Those seven right there, yeah the one with black hair too, those guards can be released!” Sam called out to the agents. He subtly nodded to Taylor. “Thanks. We’ll take all the help we can get.” Taylor gave him a thumbs-up. She was glad that she took the time to get to know the other guards, because now she knew exactly who to trust. Only four guards, not including Boyer (who she hated with a burning passion for multiple reasons), were the ones who were ‘questionable at best.’ They weren’t trustworthy, but taking those few down was laughably easy; Taylor knew the guards here were barely guards at all. Mostly, they were just unwilling glorified nannies. Taylor watched the agent’s efficiency with fascination. Their formation had allowed them to completely encircle the camp, and they efficiently pushed everyone right up to the edges of the campfire, like herding sheep dogs. They did it with such ease. And that bothered her immensely. Doubtful questions swirled in her mind. She stepped away from all the action for a moment, wondering, If this was so easy, why didn’t I just do this earlier! I had Finlay on my side, and those friends I pointed out. Are we really all so cowardly we couldn’t stand up for ourselves? For everyone here? And more questions sprang from those, as well as a deep, deep shame. If it was really this easy, we’ve just been making excuses when we could have been making changes to get rid of Odin’s power. Why does he have so much control? If I was willing to fight and I just didn’t because I was scared, then is that what everyone else thinks too? But then, why? How? How did he get all this power!? These words whirled, night after night, day after day, hellbent on finding that sweet release in knowing the answers, and yet never finding it. Her cheeks had flushed with indignant anger just moments ago, but now the hot flush drained away; she was defeated, ashamed. Sure, a great victory had just happened, and she had her moment of heroism when she got to take sweet revenge on Boyer, but it didn’t feel right. Finlay wasn’t here to celebrate with her. There wasn’t much to celebrate, because it’s not a victory to be saved by someone else, but if he was here they would have celebrated nonetheless. Because that’s just how Finlay is. But at least it didn’t feel like the responsibility of saving Briarcliff rested solely on her anymore. Sure, it never was only just her battle, but nonetheless she had taken it on. Her and her conspirator, Finlay. They had spent secretive nights together, whispering ideas of how to attack, formulating plans they both knew would never come to fruition, but were fun to create anyways. Stop that, she scolded herself. Stop circling back to him. It’s distracting you from reality! The night pressed onward, and she and these agents who had just saved her ass ransacked tents for supplies while constantly looking over their shoulders to make sure Odin was not going to materialize suddenly; she knew she needed to be more into the moment, more focused on herself and not the memory of Finlay to be fully present in the moment. Yet her mind would not let go, cycling Finlay, Finlay, Finlay, Finlay, he was a constant thought, a presence. She knew that if he was here, he would say this whole operation was “amazingly, terribly, and most importantly, honorably stupid.” Oh, she missed him so much it wasn’t even funny. Maybe if he was actually physically next to her, the thought of him would not distract her so. Blushing, she smiled and thought she quite looked forward to searching the manor until she found him. Later. For now, she would still have to struggle to focus on herself, her body. Now was not the time for reminiscence. This hastily-invented rescue plan was quickly unfolding before her, and she intended on helping it’s execution the best she could. For herself. For the kids around her. Hell, for the adults too, who were too scared to act. For Finlay. Her efforts were for them.