Marked (Sins of Our Ancestors Book 1)

by Bridget E. Baker

  “Depends,” Job says. “What do we know about World Peace Now?”

  “Not much.” I tick a few things off on my fingers. “They’re planning mass murder, so they must fear the Marked. They live in some kind of communal religious compound.”

  “They’re trying to repopulate the earth with Godly people,” says Job, “They think Tercera was God’s plan to cleanse the earth of the wicked, per our captors from earlier.”

  “Then why fear infection?” Rhonda asks. “If the Marked are still here, isn’t that part of God’s plan, too? And if only the wicked get wiped out from Tercera, how’s it a threat?”

  “A tool can be turned on its owner, or so they say.” Job finishes his second can of stew.

  “Good dinner Sam, thanks.” Rhonda leans over and pats his leg. “You can always count on good old Defense provisions, right? I thought I’d get a break from them on this trip. I thought we’d be scrounging, but we needed to hide, and I’m hungry enough I don’t care.” She laughs.

  “It was better last night. Ruby caught a rabbit.”

  “A bunny?” Rhonda turns to me with an incredulous look on her face. “You killed a bunny? You always let them go.”

  I blush. “Sam killed it.”

  “Ruby caught it. And she put some...” Sam rubs his fingers together, “some little leaves and stuff in the stew, too.”

  “Well, aren’t you quite the little traveling homemaker?” Rhonda snickers. “What exactly did you add?”

  “Basil and thyme,” I say. “Nothing fancy.”

  Rhonda raises one eyebrow. “Where’d you even get those?”

  “I brought some dried herbs with me. I’d put more—”

  Rhonda’s laughing too hard to hear me.

  “Why’s that so funny?”

  “Only you.” Rhonda wheezes. “Only you would bring dried herbs on a mission.”

  I frown.

  “Your cooking skills may finally be appreciated before too long,” Rhonda says. “When we get the cure and you get your boyfriend back.”

  My face turns bright red.

  “Is he her boyfriend, or not?” Sam asks.

  “Wesley’s Marked,” I say.

  “Until we get a cure,” Sam says. “What then?”

  “I don’t know.” I look down at the ground.

  “Ruby’s loved Wesley for years.” Rhonda smiles. “She didn’t realize he was pining for her, too. It was about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I thought about telling one of them, but it was too much fun to watch. Now, with him being Marked, it’s a little Romeo and Juliette-esque.”

  Sam asks Rhonda. “What’d you bring?” He grabs for her bag and she snatches it back. They shove each other around a bit, both laughing. Finally, Sam gets it away from her and opens it up. “Jerky, smart. Crackers? Really? That’s it? I’m disappointed.”

  “I was in a hurry, okay? Besides, I don’t do the trading for the family. Ruby handles all that. I had to make do with what I found.”

  I bite my lip.

  “I did have some other stuff, but we already ate it. Soup, noodles, rice. We boiled it when we had a fire. We’re too close now, so I saved this stuff for the end.”

  “All right,” Sam says.

  “Besides, for a normal person, your stew’s too heavy to carry. I couldn’t have lugged it this far.”

  “We didn’t plan to leave,” Sam says. “We got what was in the truck.”

  “You don’t have to worry about things being heavy. You’re built like a bear.” Rhonda pats Sam’s arm again. I tear into my poor, innocent lip. I love Rhonda, but if she keeps touching Sam, I might claw her eyes out. I have no right to be angry. It’s not like Sam and I are . . . well, anything. I’m not even sure he really likes me. We have chemistry maybe, but it’s not like he’s kissed me. He drops my hand like it’s on fire when anyone else is around.

  And anyway, I’m not sure I like him like that.

  The exhaustion from the day crashes over me in a wave. I consider curling up right where I am. Sam looks my way, but I can’t read his expression. Everything’s confusing.

  “Let’s figure this out,” I say. “I need sleep. We walk to the bridge to Galveston, and look for a boat. The water in the West Bay’s calm. I’ve been fishing out there with my dad. I could point out the building we lived in from the coast; I’m pretty sure.”

  “Why risk stealing a boat when we might not have to? Why don’t we walk up and tell WPN we want to convert?” Rhonda asks.

  I shake my head. “There’s no guarantee they’ll believe us. And if we get in that way, how would we escape?”

  “Those are good points,” Sam says, “but if we go in tactically, we’re more likely to get gunned down. If they welcome converts, that’s our best bet.”

  I snort. “So we waltz up to the front gate and tell them everything? While pretending that we love God and want to join their loopy compound?”

  “I’m with Ruby,” Job says. “We aren’t even active Christians. We don’t know enough about WPN’s beliefs to fill a thimble, much less convince them we believe too. We’re better off playing to their fears. We say we approve of the Marked attacks if they ask, and suggest they should find the cure in case any of the righteous get sick in the cleansing they have slated.”

  “We walk up, say, ‘Hey by the way, we know about your plan to massacre the Marked kids, and guess what? We wanna join you?’ They’ll know we killed their guys and shoot us in the head,” Rhonda says.

  “I prefer my head hole free.” Sam smiles. “Maybe we don’t tell them we know about the Cleansing. Job’s right that we play to their fears, though. We tell them we hate the Marked. We think they pose a threat and want to eliminate them. The Unmarked kicked us out for taking radical but necessary positions. We heard WPN understands. No religion, just half-truth.”

  “Not a bad plan,” Job says. “We tell them the Marked killed our family and we’re pissed.”

  It’s not even a lie, not really. I try not to think about Aunt Anne or I get weepy.

  Rhonda and Sam nod. This could go any which way. We have no idea how they’ll react to any of it.

  “We should make that our fall back,” I say. “First, we scope out the island. If there aren’t guard towers, we try to sneak around in a boat.”

  “What’s with you and floating?” Rhonda asks. “If we want to go in tactically, we cross the bridge.”

  “They’ll have it under guard,” I say.

  “I don’t wanna rely on something that one bullet might sink.” Rhonda scowls.

  “What’s the big deal?” I ask. “You can swim.”

  “Sharks,” Rhonda says.

  I roll my eyes. “They leave humans alone.”

  “We had this substitute at school once who didn’t want to do anything. She made us watch tv and the week she was there, some channel played this terrible marathon program. Shark Week.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “And?”

  She shudders. “Boats are out.”

  “So we go in tactically, and if that fails, we tell them why we’re there. That gives us options.”

  Rhonda sets her jaw just like her mom. “What do you guys think?”

  Sam shakes his head. “I’m more afraid of this discussion than a sea full of sharks.”

  Job snorts. “Ruby’s plan makes sense. Investigate and go from there. We can always come clean if sneaking in doesn’t work.”

  “Except then they can’t trust us.” Rhonda shakes her head.

  “Bullets do kill sharks, you know.” I walk over to Rhonda’s pews and toss down the blanket Sam gave me.

  “Most guns don’t work once they’re wet,” Rhonda says.

  I set my gun on the pew next to my backpack, safety on. “So we keep them dry.” I pull my little blanket out of my bag to use as a pillow and lay down fully dressed.

  Job pops his head over my pew a minute later. “You okay?”

  Job’s presence means Sam and Rhonda are alone together. Probably flirting. Th
e two perfect physical specimens in the room, reminiscing about their shared Defense training. Complimenting each other’s skills. Rhonda’s telling Sam he’s super strong, like a battering ram, and rubbing his arm. Gah.

  Job’s being sweet, so I try to appreciate the gesture. “I’m fine, just tired.”

  “Long day, huh?”

  “Yeah, I need some sleep.” And he needs to get back over there to chaperone.

  He looks at me for a moment, but I don’t back down.

  “Message received, little sis. I’ll buzz off, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t lonely. I know Sam can be reserved, but you’re with family now. Everything’s going to be okay.” He kisses my forehead.

  He’s a good guy. “I’m glad to have your help, Job.” He squeezes my hand and walks back to help Rhonda and Sam clean up. I sigh with relief.

  I drop off to sleep quickly, but I wake before anyone else as a result. I don’t need an alarm clock or even sunlight, thanks to a very helpful cockroach perched on my nose, antennae twiddling. I consider it one of the crowning achievements of my life that I don’t scream. I swat it away and shudder violently. Rhonda shifts when I crawl out of the pews, but she doesn’t wake up.

  I grab my bag and walk convulsively outside. I feel a little better after I pee and brush my teeth. I’m headed back inside when I see Sam standing by the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “What are you doing?” I raise one eyebrow.

  “I had third watch, so I heard you leave. I figured you wanted to be alone, but I came out to make sure you were safe.”

  Great. Guy with supersonic hearing just listened in while I peed and gargled. At least I didn’t scream over that gargantuan bug. I hope he noted my bravery.

  “I didn’t know there were watches.”

  “We left you out. You looked pretty tired.”

  “Thanks.” I try to duck past him, but he grabs my arm.

  I feel a question coming that I’m not ready for. I deflect without thinking. “If you need to borrow some toothpaste, you don’t have to manhandle me. Just ask.”

  “Believe it or not, I have my own, standard issue. It’s more powder than paste, but it does the trick.”

  “Need me to check for you?” I say, flirting like an idiot.

  “No.”

  The bottom drops out of my stomach. What’s wrong? Yesterday he seemed playful. Into me, maybe.

  “Morning, guys.” Job pushes past us. “We really need to get going if we’re going to reach WPN in one day. Also, I’m starving. You got any food left, Sam? Rhonda’s been passing out dry oatmeal, which is gross, but I think she’s nearly out.”

  Sam leans close and whispers in my ear. “You have to talk to me eventually.” His breath really is minty fresh. Why’s he upset? Interruptions, or something else?

  I’m not sure I want to know. I push past Sam and back into the church, eager to escape the unknown, even if it’s only a reprieve. Light streams through the upper windows in the church, rendering flashlights unnecessary. Sam follows me inside and pulls more food from his magic bag. He shares out some kind of hard biscuits and dried fruit in little plastic packages.

  “Wow, MREs.” Rhonda laughs. “Meals rejected by everyone.”

  I take a package. “Are they that bad?”

  Rhonda nods. “So bad. Everyone in Defense hates them.”

  Sam’s face relaxes. “Meals rarely edible.”

  Rhonda smiles. “Meals rejected by the enemy?”

  “Morsels, regurgitated, eviscerated.” Sam taps his on a pew and it makes a knocking sound.

  The corner of Job’s mouth turns up. “Eviscerated? Use that in a sentence.”

  Sam shadowboxes Job in the gut. “I’ll eviscerate you for mocking me.”

  Job doubles over in feigned pain. “No need to disembowel me. I didn’t think you knew complicated words, that’s all.”

  Rhonda pats Sam’s arm. “Sam’s smarter than me. I think he wants people to assume he’s dumb.”

  Sam shrugs. “I just don’t care what people think.”

  Rhonda sighs. “Their dumb remarks annoy me, but if you don’t care, I guess I shouldn’t either. Thanks for breakfast.”

  I grit my teeth and gnaw on my biscuit. They’re right about one thing. This food sucks.

  Rhonda and Sam keep joking around like they’re best friends. Not to be petty, but Rhonda already has a twin. Everyone in the world can’t love her best. I busy myself with preparing to leave so no one will notice I’m sulking. I’m the first one done eating, the first one with my laces tied, and the first one with my bag packed. Of course, Sam’s ready seconds after me. A few minutes later Job’s got his bag in hand, eager to leave.

  “Where’s Rhonda?” I didn’t see her leave.

  “She found a bathroom.” Job rolls his eyes. “Apparently there’s even a mirror.”

  My hair must be a nightmare. I desperately need an excuse to head in there. “I’ll try to hurry her up.”

  “Girls.” Job shakes his head.

  I bumble down the hall, knocking into walls and benches. I should’ve brought my flashlight. The main sanctuary had windows, but the hallway doesn’t.

  “Rhonda?”

  “Over here.”

  She has her flashlight out.

  “Wow, you found a mirror?” I feign indifference. “I’m scared to look. I probably look like Medusa.”

  “Actually, your curls look great,” she says. “It’s too bad the Council makes us keep our hair in braids. Yours looks way better down.”

  I peek around her shoulder. She has mascara. Scratch that. She has an entire make-up bag. Why in the world would she put on make-up out here? She wasn’t wearing any yesterday.

  I can only think of one reason. A big, gorgeous ox of a reason.

  Rhonda already has a lot of things I don’t. Straight, smooth hair. Big dark eyes. Fitted, tough looking clothes. Knee high boots. Amazing skills. Athletic ability. Height. And most of all, a banging rack. Does she really need to widen the chasm?

  “What’re you doing?” I narrow my make-up free eyes at her.

  “Just putting on some mascara,” she says. “No biggie. You’re blonde, so you understand. If I don’t put on mascara, my eyes disappear completely.”

  Light. Keep it light, Ruby. I love Rhonda, maybe more than any other person in the world. If she likes Sam, I should be happy for them, because no one on Earth would choose me over her. I need to think of a way to shift the conversation that doesn’t give away how I feel, but encourages her to be honest with me.

  “Do you like Sam?” The words tumble out. So much for broaching the subject smoothly.

  Rhonda shines her flashlight in my face. I’m like a deer about to be hit by a semi-truck.

  “Do you?”

  I clear my throat. “Why else would you be putting on mascara in the middle of nowhere?”

  “You do.” Rhonda shifts the flashlight so it’s not blinding me anymore. Of course, I still can’t see anything. Retinal burn.

  “That’s why I kept pushing Wesley, you know.”

  “So, you do?” I hate that my voice wavers.

  “I’ve liked him for years, Ruby.”

  I want to puke, and ball up my fists and hit the wall, and collapse in a heap to cry. I can’t compete with Rhonda. I don’t compare to her for one, but liking someone she likes will break me. If Sam bizarrely did like me, it’d upset me because she’d be sad. When he likes her, I’ll be angry and petty. It’s a lose-lose.

  “You gave up on Wesley already?” Rhonda asks.

  “No, but maybe I’m mad at him for almost Marking me. I don’t know. Ever since we came on this trip, Sam’s been . . . different.”

  “It’s the first time you’ve ever been around him, just the two of you. He’s pretty intense,” Rhonda says. “People don’t slow down to notice.”

  I nod.

  “I’m not glad you like him,” Rhonda says, “but I get it. And—”

  “And what?” I ask.


  She exhales and clicks a button on the flashlight. The base lights up and low light bathes the small room. “He doesn’t like me like I want. He never has.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “Because I do, okay? We’ve talked about it.”

  I’m completely floored. Rhonda’s perfect. “He’s crazy.”

  Rhonda shrugs. “It is what it is. If he likes you, I’ll be happy for you, I swear. But Wesley? I can’t imagine he’ll be pleased if he gets cured only to come back and find you and Sam together.” Rhonda pokes me. If she’s teasing me about it already, I hope that means we’ll be okay.

  “If we can cure Wesley, he’ll forget all about me in his joy at having his life back.”

  Rhonda shakes her head. “That boy thinks you hung the stars.”

  I look at the ground. “I don’t know how I feel about him anymore, but unless we find a cure it’s irrelevant anyway.”

  “How does Sam feel about you risking your life to save Wesley?”

  I shrug. “I don’t think he loves it, which is why—”

  “His tantrums whenever Wesley comes up are a good sign.”

  I shrug. I should feel excited that someone else noticed, but I feel sad instead. Or maybe guilty. “The boys are ready to go. You almost done?”

  Rhonda puts on one more layer of mascara and shoves it into the bag. “Yep.”

  “Actually, I’m blonde too,” I say. “Mind if I borrow the mascara?”

  “Like you need any help.” She rolls her eyes.

  My jaw drops. “Are you kidding? I look like a ten-year-old boy.”

  “You’re ethereal, innocent, and delicate. I’m like a she-man. . . Job with boobs.”

  Laughter erupts from my belly, filling the small space and reverberating. She’s as far from a she-male as possible, but the image of Job with boobs? Priceless.

  Rhonda places a hand on my arm. “I’m not upset you like Sam, because who doesn’t? If it has to be someone else, and believe me it does, I’d rather he end up with you than one of his fangirls.”

  Every year after the seventeen year olds Path, the Council reassesses each settlement’s needs. Port Gibson gets transfers, mostly new adults, but some older people too. For the last few years, Sam’s acquired a gaggle of doe-eyed followers after each transfer. I didn’t even like Sam yet and they annoyed me. I can only imagine it’s worse if you work with him . . . and have feelings for him.