Marked
Chapter 8

There was silence for a long time.

She remembered that more than she remembered the crying.

Maybe because the crying was too awful to remember.

Jose’s absence was a hollow sound, a missing pair of footsteps as they trekked the woods in search of the mark maker, a sharp pain behind her rib cage.

Though she’d hardly known him...she wondered, with a heavy heart, how much worse it was for the two surviving brothers.

Their mother and brother had just been violently killed...and right in front of them.

“Maybe the mark maker will help us.” Hector had said, voice hoarse.

All things considered, they were out of options so no one had objected.

Halfway through the journey, Simone, in a tiny, defeated voice, whispered, “What will happen to all those kids...?”

The others turned to look at her but it was Hector who replied.

“They’ll be marked most likely and then integrated into their twisted society.”

“My sister...” Simone breathed.

“Mine too,” Hector replied and there was a distinct pain in his voice, the sound of anger and frustration and more than anything else, the sound of defeat.

The black sky overheard held the promise of rain stamped over it in thick, gray clouds with the sun nowhere near rising, and even though she was cold, Rachel was glad.

Before, venturing into the woods at night had been a reckless and dangerous thing to do, but tonight she was thankful for the darkness that cloaked them and hid them from the poachers.

And it was easy to tell that they were not being followed.

The poachers were not keen on keeping quiet and were always more than happy to cheer when on the hunt.

She supposed it was their way of instilling a special kind of fear in the unmarked.

But tonight, mercifully, only the sounds of nature trailed them.

“We need to rescue them, you know? We can’t just sit around here and do nothing when they need to be saved.” Juan said.

“But how?” Simone asked.

Juan ran his hands through his hair in frustration, probably realizing that their odds against the capital weren’t great, maybe even nonexistent. “I don’t know, but we have to do something. We can go to the Mark Maker, ask him to mark us and then go after them.”

“That would be suicide,” Rachel said gently. “You saw what they were capable of.”

“We should set up camp for the night.” Hector said as he let his backpack fall to the ground. He turned in a complete circle as he surveyed their surroundings.

Trees rose overhead, filtering in only slivers of moonlight. A heavy boulder, densely littered with moss lay directly before them. An owl hooted somewhere high in the trees and there was the pitter-patter of tiny bush animals skittering by in the darkness.

Hector pointed at the boulder.

“That will keep some of the wind away; we’ll spend the night here and replace the Mark Maker at first light.”

They gathered behind the rock, using it to have something to lean their backs against. They couldn’t even start a fire and it was so incredibly cold.

“Hector,” Rachel whispered.

He lifted his gaze to her and she could see how sad his eyes looked even through his shaggy, brown hair. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing while those kids are marked.”

She wondered when he had become their leader of sorts but then again, no one else seemed to be stepping up to the plate but him.

Hector’s eyes met hers and they were smoldering, though she wasn’t quite sure which emotion was raging behind them. “I wish we could save them but there’s nothing we can do, Rachel. They must be in the capital by now and what chance do we really stand against them?”

He was right, yet Rachel still felt the need to do something, anything.

Her conscience would could not sit still, not while thoughts of defenseless compound children being marked or tortured flitted through her mind.

“Try to sleep,” Hector encouraged. “We’ll figure something out in the morning.”

*************************************************************

Bright sunlight pierced Rachel’s eyelids the next day.

The sounds of creatures and nature buzzed all around her.

For a moment she was dazed and confused, as though she were dreaming. Upon sitting up and taking in her surroundings- Simone resting against the boulder, Juan with his face shoved against Hector’s backpack and their clothing torn and dirty- the previous night’s events all came rushing back.

She stood and tried out her legs which seemed wobbly at best and searched the tiny clearing for Hector.

She found him crouching on a large, smooth rock. His elbows rested on his knees as he overlooked the forest towards the place where their home had once been.

White smoke drifted lazily into the sky from the mountain, the only sign that anything had transpired there the night before.

“Do you think there were survivors?” Rachel asked as she came to sit next to him.

“I saw people running into the woods.” He shrugged a little. “I guess all we can hope for is that others made it out too.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agreed.

She desperately wanted to believe that not everything had been lost on the mountain.

“I’m so sorry about your mom and Jose,” She whispered, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

He looked down at her hand and swallowed hard.

“Thank you. I hope your mother made it out.”

She pulled her hand away and they were silent for a moment.

“We’re going to get the kids back,” Hector announced after a while, his voice just a pitch higher than a murmur.

Rachel’s heart swelled with hope but also fear. It felt good to have a purpose, even if the chances of them succeeding were slim.

“I don’t know how yet, but we’re going to do it.”

“Do you think he’ll really help us?” Rachel asked, referring to the Mark maker.

Hector shrugged, just another twitch of his shoulder. “Who knows? But I sure hope so ’cause he’s all we’ve got right now.” He stood and dusted the back of his pants. “Come on, let’s replace something to eat.”

Rachel followed him down the hill and watched him search through the bushes for animals.

They chanced upon a bush sprinkled with red berries and while Rachel picked them, he crouched on the ground, fashioning a snare of twisting branches and leaves.

When she pulled back a branch, a small, brown rabbit scurried between her legs and made a mad dash for cover. Hector motioned for her to hold still, and she was briefly reminded of the first time she'd met him, as he hunted squirrels near the river.

"I'm going after it," He whispered.

“Okay. I’m going to look over there.” She pointed to the east.

Her mind was full of spinning questions and thoughts and it was starting to give her a headache so she decided to try and be useful. She’d foraged in the forest plenty of times- if anyone knew what to look for it was her.

A soft melody emanated from her lips as she gathered berries and nuts into her jacket.

She took a step forward and suddenly the ground was gone from beneath her. She yelled as something cool and rubbery grabbed a hold of her ankle and then she was seeing the world upside down, the berries and nuts sent flying into the air.

“Rachel!” Hector yelled and a few moments later he broke into the clearing, his head dashing back and forth, searching for the threat.

His eyes widened when he saw her and he fumbled with something on his belt.

Blood rushed to her head from being upside down.

Hector held up a knife and braced himself, one arm under Rachel’s shoulder as the other slammed the blade against the tree, ripping the cord in one smooth motion.

Rachel landed on him hard and they both toppled to the ground, his arm awkwardly bent behind her back, her body half splayed over his, their legs tangled together.

“Don’t move! Don’t move or I swear I’ll cut ya.” A screechy voice announced.

Hector groaned and Rachel lifted her gaze to see a scraggly man with a beard that reached down to his chest pointing a large, hooked knife at them.

“It's me,” Hector groaned. “I was here the other night, remember?”

“I don’t know you.” The wiry man growled and shimmied his knife at them in what Rachel supposed was meant to be a threatening gesture.

He was perhaps five feet tall and thin and nearly naked. Only a small slip of fabric-covered parts of him that Rachel never wanted to see and his ribs were visible and jutting out, making him look like a moving skeleton with hair.

“Come on , Charles, we’re harmless. We just want to know more about the mark.”

The man dropped the arm that was holding the knife and cocked his head to the side. “The Mark, you say?”

Hector nodded.

“All right you two, then get up and follow me. Now do it quick, ya hear? I know the poachers been out here last night.”

“Yeah, they have.” Hector said sourly. He was on his feet now and helped Rachel onto hers. “They attacked our home, killed some of our people.”

At that, the old man jump up onto a rock and used it to propel himself towards Rachel. His bony fingers grabbed her and he pressed his knife to her throat while she scrambled to figure out what was happening. “You brought them here!? Why the hell would you bring em here? If they kill me, girly’s comin with me!”

Rachel hated to break it to him, but all she really had to do was move her elbow into his face and he’d be incapacitated.

Still, the knife at her throat told her to hold still.

“No, no,” Hector explained, waving his arms in front of him. “We lost them, we weren’t followed, please, just let her go, Charles.”

Charles let out a grumpy harrumph and pushed Rachel away from him. “I shoulda never let ya hooligans into my home. Now we’ll all be killed! Now they’ll chop all our heads off.” He began pacing back and forth, thrusting his knife into the air as he yelled at the sky.

Rachel looked sideways at Hector. This was supposed to be their protector? This was the masterful man that had re-created the marks?

All things considered, the woods might not have been the worst place after all...

“Charles, you need to focus. Listen to me, we were not followed but we need your help. Some of our people were captured and we need help getting them back.”

“Well you’ve come to the wrong place, laddy. Ain’t no way to rescue any prisoner sent to the capital. I am not your guy, I ain’t no miracle worker.” Charles used the tip of his knife to scratch his head and inched closer to Rachel to sniff her.

“Y’all smell of fear anyway, s’no way y’all would make it three feet into the capital without being killed.”

Rachel backed away from him, freaked out.

“Oh my, God!”

Rachel snapped her head to the sound of Simone’s voice and spotted her and Juan running towards them. They stopped abruptly. Juan lifted his gun and trained it on Charles.

“What is that?” Simone shrieked.

Charles snorted and lifted his arms into the air, shaking them. “Why me? Why you gotta send me these fools? Ay caramba.”

“Put the gun down, Juan, it’s just Charles.” At Hector’s words, Juan took a closer look at the man and then a tight smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Come now ya stupid lads before the poachers best be catching us out here.” Charles waived his knife at the kids and began wobbling through the forest. “No-not there! Don’t step there!” The bony man crouched to the ground and groaned in exasperation. “Y’all gonna set off all my traps! Argh! Just do what I do!”

Rachel felt foolish following after Charles.

He jumped his way across the woods, clambering up onto rocks, jumping from one to the other, and then climbing the trees like a monkey.

“There’s no way I can do that.” she said.

“I’ll help you,” Hector extended his hand out to her. “It’s not that hard. The crazy man carved holes into the trees for us to put our hands and feet into.”

She nodded and had to admit she was starting to like Hector more and more by the minute. Perhaps he wasn’t the party animal she’d made him out to be.

All things considered, he made a pretty decent leader.

“Think of it as rock climbing on the mountain,” He added, taking her hand in his.

She nodded, feeling more confident. Rock climbing was something they learned from a young age back at the compound. Still, following Charles was no easy feat and she was panting by the time the maze was over.

Charles led them onto a massive tree with a branch as thick as Rachel’s torso and one by one he told them to jump. The branch deposited them into the front lawn of a little wooden cabin. All around it, sharp wooden beams created a circular perimeter, their sharpened ends pointed out with some even rusted with old blood.

Rachel cringed.

“Come on fellows, get inside, lest you want the hungry wolves to be getting ya.”

Simone grabbed Rachel’s hand, give it a light squeeze and then followed everyone through the door of Charles’ cabin. “He’s freaking bonkers,” she hissed into Rachel ear.

In addition to bonkers, the man was also a hoarder.

The walls of his cabin were completely cluttered with an assortment of metal trinkets, weapons dangling from the ceiling that they had to duck under to avoid, animals pelts and heads over the fireplace.

Charles approached a table piled high with papers, ink, and surgical instruments. He dragged his arm across the surface, pushing everything away to create a space big enough to seat him comfortably.

He climbed up onto the table and crouched on it, focusing his beady, little eyes on them.

“Interesting lot, you got here.” He said, gesturing. The skin on his under arm was saggy and flapped whenever he moved. “What brings ya to me?”

“Like I told you before, our home was attacked.” Hector said.

“They killed the old folks, took all the children, too. Our siblings were among them and we’re interested in getting your mark to go after them.” Juan continued.

“Fools! All of you.” The old man cackled and threw himself onto his back, his thin, twig-like legs shaking in the air as he vibrated with laughter.

When it was over, his face became somber and he grabbed Simone by the flap of her jacket.

He thumped his hand on her forehead.

“Ow!” She yelped.

“I can do it- put he fake mark on ya. But that won’t keep you alive were yalls is going.”

“What do you mean? We heard you were the best- that you were the closest thing to the mark.”

“Yall laddys don’t know a thing do ya? What have they been teaching you up on that rock?”