Free What Comes After (Book 1): A Shepherd Cometh by Peter Carrier

his right wrist drop a bit, so it hung just over the hammer of his gun. Maybe I was wrong about the when .
    Dust must have felt the tension between Tom and Summers, because he looked up. Seeing where the Shepherd's hand was and how still he had become, Dust froze.
    “Hold up, man. It doesn't have to be that way.” Dust spoke quietly, the handkerchief covering his face muffling his voice even more.
    Without taking his eyes from Summers, Tom replied just as softly. “Your man over there is awfully worked up about something.”
    “There's a very real possibility that the world as we've known it for the last twelve or thirteen years is about to be turned on it's head. That'll do things to people. Stress 'em right the hell out. He also might be thinking what I was thinking.” This he said to Tom in the same confidential tone he'd used a moment earlier.
    “What was that?” Tom was still watching the man behind Dust.
    “That these might belong to friends of yours.”
    This gave Tom pause. “I see your point.” His tension began to dissipate, but he remained ready to act.
    Summers had apparently tired of waiting for a response. He began taking quick strides towards Tom and Dust while asking, “Do I need to be beat it out of you, new guy? I asked you a question-”
    He stopped mid-stride and mid-sentence when he saw how the two men were poised. He began reaching into his jacket very slowly. “You okay, Dust?”
    “Fine, man. I'll be better if you don't go for your piece, though. Since you're both twitchy as hell right now, think it's for the best.” Dust shook his head as he answered Summers.
    Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, Dust continued speaking to both men in the same quiet voice. “Everyone who doesn't wanna get shot, listen up: the Old Man wants to know what's going on out here. I recommend we do exactly that and spare ourselves the wrath of the most dangerous individual in this neck of the woods. Capice?”
    Summers shook his head, his earlier frustration turned to anger. “Naw, man. He was ready to draw on you. I think he's gonna have an accident out here-”
    “Wasn't me he was ready to draw on,” Dust clarified. As understanding came to Summers, Dust continued. “Seeing how you were acting, can't really say that I blame him, either.”
    Summers seemed taken aback. “How I was acting? What are you talking about? I asked him a question, was all.”
    Dust shook his head. “Man, I love you like a brother, but sometimes you can be a real dick.”
    Dust turned back to the Shepherd. “The people who made that print and left those tracks: not friends of yours?”
    Tom shook his head. “Haven't seen a vehicle move under it's own power since I was thirteen.”
    “Alright, then. What's your theory?”
    Tom looked from Dust to Summers, saw how the other half dozen men were watching this exchange with vested interest. Even if he felt it wasn't his place to offer Tracking 101 pointers to people operating in their own territory, he accepted that there could be more at stake here than his own well-being. Taking a breath, he offered his observation.
    “See how there's only one set of tracks?” When Dust and Summers nodded, he continued. “That means one of two things; either the vehicle came in and went out exactly the same way, which is unlikely given the clarity and depth of the tread. Or-”
    Dust finished the thought. “Or the vehicle was parked here before the ground got wet, then left after it started raining. But not long before it stopped, or the tread would be muddy and harder to see.”
    Tom nodded. “Exactly. Given that there are at least two different sets of footprints around the treads, that indicates a small group was moving around in this general area before they decided to leave.”
    “What would they have been doing?” Summers asked.
    Tom shrugged in reply. “Your guess is as good as mine. Could have been looking for something. Stashing something. Who knows?” He did not