I can barely see it over my shoulder, but Sam’s grinning at Adam in a way that unsettles me. It’s like Sam genuinely likes him.
“It's good to have someone else around,” Sam says, “who gets how annoying Wesley is. Ruby, for some reason, finds him charming.”
“Enough distracting me, all of you.” I huff. “Quadrupling the guards because I'm leaving makes no sense. We're trying to move quickly.”
Adam says, “Two vehicles will arrive just as quickly as one. Like I said, you're queen. You have solid, reliable equipment now.”
“Yes, I am queen, and that means I'm the boss, so what I say goes. And I only want Sam, Wesley and I to head for Baton Rouge. Alone.”
Adam stomps his black combat boot, almost like a toddler, if toddlers wore uniforms with semi-automatic weapons in their holsters. “I'm the one who has to answer to the Port Heads when they ask for updates on your charitable mission. You’re supposed to be determining what aid needs to be rendered to the Marked. Which means I don't care whether you want them along or not. There's no way I can mollify the Port Heads unless I can assure them you're adequately protected.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Besides, they know you're leaving, and I don't trust them not to try something themselves. I'd send several hundred men, myself included, if you'd let me.”
“Oh good grief.” I scowl.
Sam lets me go and steps back. “He has a point. I'm good, but I can't do much if one of them sends a small army, and whether you want to be queen or not, you are now. People noticed so acting like it didn't happen isn't realistic.”
“So fifty people?” Adam asks.
I open my mouth to argue.
“Twelve is fine,” Sam says. “But make sure they’re your best.”
“Plus the standard four, for a total of sixteen?” Adam purses his lips before saying, “It’s my final offer.”
“Whatever,” I say. “That’s fine.”
“It’s because I care about you.” Adam steps closer, and his arms reach out for me. “I just got a sister. I don’t want to lose her.”
I stiffen when Adam pulls me in for a hug, but he’s my brother. The only good thing Solomon ever did for me was give me family. I soften a little and squeeze Adam around his ribs as tightly as I can.
“You be careful here too, okay?” I pull back and look at his face.
He nods. “I’ll be fine.”
“So will I.” I climb into the jeep and close the door, but I poke my head out of the window. “But Frank’s not coming right?”
Adam laughs. Why does he laugh? I figure it out when Frank climbs eagerly into the jeep next to me. I glare at Adam and he only smiles back at me. I’m too embarrassed to kick Frank out myself.
Once we start down the road toward Baton Rouge, all the packing and guard negotiation behind us, I wish I could go back and do it all over again. With no one to snarl at or cajole, I have nothing else to think about.
Except Rhonda.
Did Rafe kill her like he said he would? Did he spare her? If he did has she been punished? Rafe likes her and he's basically a good person, right? He wouldn't really. . . I try not to think about it. Wesley knows I'm fretting and Sam must too, because they joke and laugh and tell stories in the front seat, while I mope and stare at the trees out the side window from the back seat.
“Are you hungry or thirsty?” Frank asks.
I grit my teeth. “I’m fine, thanks.” Then I feel guilty for being annoyed. I can’t even describe what bothers me about him, but he sets me on edge.
The drive itself is uneventful. We navigate around potholes and debris. With eight guards in the van in front of us, we don't even have to clear tree branches or other blockages. We just sit and wait until they've cleared the area. Periodically one of the seven guards in the van behind us waves at me. I roll my eyes and wave back to show them I'm fine.
We stop halfway to eat the sandwiches we brought with us and let everyone stretch their legs. Sam leans against a tree and I lean against him. After I've finished mine, I close my eyes and snuggle into his chest. With his arms wrapped around me and his breath in my hair, I almost forget about Rhonda. Almost.
“Is everyone done eating?” Wesley asks.
When heads start nodding, I hop up to go pee. I've gone ten feet when I notice a guard following me. It's friggin' Frank, of course. “Umm, I'm going to pee. I might want to do that alone.”
He salutes and turns back to the group. Being a queen sucks.
Frank won't meet my eyes when I stomp back to the jeep. “Hold on for a moment.” I shout so the men will all hear me as they're loading back up into their vans. “We're headed into Marked territory, and while I'm impressed by your bravery, and willingness to risk infection, I want to prepare you as well as possible beforehand.”
Sam smiles.
I pull out the set of syringes I made Adam bring me at the last minute when he insisted on sending all these soldiers. “God told me that if I'll share a bit of my . . . uh, my blessed blood with you, he will protect you too.”
Wesley chuckles and I ignore him.
Once the sixteen guards have been inoculated, we load up for the rest of the drive to Baton Rouge. I feel like I'm driving to my own execution, watching the miles roll by one at a time, biting my lip and tapping the window in intervals. I wish God did talk to me, or even better, listen to me. Maybe then I'd feel better about Rhonda. As I stare off into the trees flying past, I notice something that's most definitely not a tree. It's a man, waving wildly at us from the underbrush. At first I ignore him. Lone individuals in the wilderness aren't common now, and they almost never carry good news.
Except I recognize him. It's Uncle Dan.
“Stop the car,” I say.
Wesley glances behind me and then Sam does too. Their eyes widen.
“How'd I miss him?” Sam asks.
“I imagine he was hiding until he realized who we were.”
“How could he know?” Wesley asks.
Sam pulls the Jeep over and twists around in his seat. He reaches back and pulls on one of my ringlets. “Not many people have hair like this.”
The van ahead of us slowed when we did, and now it spins in a terrifyingly tight circle to loop back around. The guards pour out of both vehicles when I open my door. Every one of them has a gun drawn, all of them aimed at my uncle. He slows his run toward me and holds up both hands, palms out.
“Calm down.” I say. “He's my uncle. He means us no harm.”
Uncle Dan walks slowly toward me and one by one, my overzealous guards turned soldiers lower their weapons. Once we're within a few paces of one another, I can tell that his forehead's clear. I breathe a sigh of relief and jog the last few steps. He pulls me into a huge hug and for the first time in weeks, I feel completely safe. Now that he's here, he can take care of everything. Uncle Dan's always been larger than life, or death for that matter. Two time sharp shooting Olympic gold medalist. Owner of a booming security firm Before, and head of Defense in Port Gibson since he arrived. Everyone either loves him, fears him, or respects him. Sometimes all three. If anyone can make things right, it's Uncle Dan.
About ten seconds into my stupidly long hug, I remember that he's going to hate me as soon as I tell him about Rhonda. I pull away, bracing myself against his reaction. I wrack my brain, looking for any way to explain things that he might possibly understand.
Before I can figure out where to begin, he opens his mouth. “I need your help.” His voice cracks on the word help and I take a good look at my unbreakable uncle. His lank hair falls in his face. His jacket's torn, his gloves are missing and his nails have been bitten to the quick. His pants are muddy almost up to his knees, and he's got a knapsack slung over his shoulder but it looks almost empty. No wonder my guards freaked out.
My uncle has always been a granite slab: solid, cool and firm. Only, now it's like his slab cracked. Tiny fissures threaten to break him into pieces. I almost can't process his words. My uncle, the superman who raised me in
the middle of an apocalypse and never faltered, is begging for my help?
The world doesn't make sense anymore. I want to collapse into a huddle and cry, but I don't. Because that's not who I am, not anymore. I survived the discovery that my dad was a liar and a kidnapper. He created the virus that killed the world. And I powered through the bombshell that he wasn't really my father, and the news that my mother didn't die in childbirth and is in fact still alive today. I survived Marked attacks, an abusive biological father and recently I outsmarted his power hungry political enemies.
I can do whatever my uncle needs too. My voice doesn't waver when I ask, “What's wrong?”
My uncle looks even more pathetic when his shoulders slump, which I hadn't realized was possible. “Your aunt, she was Marked in that attack back in Port Gibson.”
I nod my head. “I know. Sam told me.”
Uncle Dan reaches out and clasps Sam's gloved hands in his own bare ones. “Thank you for taking care of her Sam. I can never repay you. Never.”
Sam shakes his head.
“What you don't know,” my Uncle says, “is that we travelled to the Marked community near Port Gibson.”
I nod. “I did know that, actually. You found some anomalies there. The hormonal suppressant was failing, but not in a way that makes any sense.”
Uncle Dan's mouth clicks shut. “Yes. How did you—”
“I've been to Baton Rouge,” I say, “and we met Rafe. I think Aunt Anne noticed the same thing that Job and I did.”
“Wait,” Uncle Dan's head swivels wildly. “Where's Job? Is he here?”
I shake my head. “He's still in Baton Rouge. We're headed back there now.” A lump rises in my throat and I can't say anything else.
Sam takes my hand in his. He understands.
Wesley clears his throat. “Hello, sir. I was in Baton Rouge too, with Rafe, but never in quite the same place as your wife. I haven't seen her since that night in Port Gibson, but I heard she requested records and samples of the suppressant that stopped working. When last we were in Baton Rouge, Job worried the suppressant wasn't really failing. He suspected that somehow the suppressant was tampered with or replaced prior to delivery. He knew his mother would never do that.”
My uncle digs the toe of his black boot into a clod of dirt. “Of course she wouldn't. But she saw the pills, and they weren't the ones she made. Someone switched them for prenatal vitamins for some reason, and she felt there might be time yet for a handful of the children to go back on if we could locate enough of the real suppressant. She rushed back to tell someone in Port Gibson.”
The muscles in his jaw tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen. “They charged her with assault with intent to infect when she tried to talk to someone in town. When she begged them to find me, they charged her with a felony. She's already been tried and they found her guilty. No one would even listen to why she returned, and they didn't care that she never touched anyone. She's being executed in five days.”
Wesley exhales and rubs his eyes with his hands. “My dad?”
Uncle Dan nods. “And after I never pursued you when you almost Marked Ruby.”
Wesley swears.
Uncle Dan says. “Sam, you have to come back with me and talk to your dad for us. He's the only one who can stop this now. Please, I'm begging you. She didn't do anything wrong. She didn't touch anyone. She was only trying to help the Marked kids.”
Three days to save Rhonda. Three more to save Job, one of which is already gone. And the reason for Rafe's pressure weighs even heavier. I have no idea how much time we have left before my antibodies won't be able to help these kids. The further they progress, the less my blood can do for them.
I'm needed in Baton Rouge.
But there are only five days until my aunt dies. Sam needs to plead for clemency with his dad. If there is a God, he has a terrible sense of justice and an even worse sense of timing. I'd like to tell him a thing or two.
“We can't go with you.” I try to say it loudly, but it comes out as the barest whisper.
“Why not?” Uncle Dan glances around, as if really registering the men surrounding us for the first time.
“Are these soldiers from WPN?”
I sit down on the edge of the road and put my face in my hands. I need to tell my uncle what's going on, but I can't have these guards listening in. “I need some privacy, guys. Why don't you secure the perimeter for a minute?”
Braden, the broad shouldered, raven-haired guard Adam put in charge, salutes me. He barks out commands, and the men follow, ducking away one at a time.
Uncle Dan watches quietly. “Sixteen WPN guards follow your commands?”
“You never mentioned that WPN's leader was my biological father. Did you know?”
Uncle Dan frowns. “Your dad told us that was a lie.”
“You knew his wife was my mother?”
Uncle Dan sinks down next to me. He rubs his hands across the bristle covering his jaw. He clears his throat, but finally he says, “Yes.”
Sam walks around us and sits down on my other side.
“You knew she was alive,” I ask, “because you saw her on broadcasts?”
He nods.
“You didn't think I might want to know who my mom was and that she survived Tercera?”
He throws his hands in the air. “What a child wants, it’s not something you worry about much when you’re trying to keep them alive. When you’re raising them.”
I fume.
“You have a right to be angry with us,” Uncle Dan says, “But we concealed the information from you with a purpose. Anne didn’t want to tell you about her while she was still with him. Don told us he was the worst kind of man. Ill-tempered, manipulative, deceitful, and even abusive.”
“Dad was right. Although his name was Donald Carillon. You could’ve been honest with me about that, at least. My own last name?” I shake my head.
Uncle Dan’s brow furrows and I feel guilty for being angry. “It all sort of ran together and to maintain the pretense, we had to remember all of it.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if what we did was right. I suppose only you can decide that, but we thought it was right at the time. You've met your mother, I take it?”
“I have and she hasn't had an easy time. Dad was right. David Solomon was. . .” I whistle.
“Was?”
Sam sits close enough that our thighs touch. His support buoys me.
“Josephine shot him,” I say.
Uncle Dan's eyebrows rise. “And now the guards are following you around because?”
“Unfortunately because I'm their new queen. Look, the point is—”
Uncle Dan splutters. “I'm sorry, did you say you're the new queen? Of WPN?”
I sigh. “Yep, I am.”
He looks from Wesley to Sam and back to me again. “I don't understand.”
“It's a whole long story, but the point is, we did find my dad's old study the first time we went, and Dad did have another journal there. The headline news is that Dad injected me with a powerful shot of antibodies which render me immune to Tercera.”
Uncle Dan beams. “That's great. You can cure Anne!” He cranes around to look at Wesley. “I assume she already cured you?”
Wesley bobs his head. “She did. Which is why we were attacking, trying to tell you guys. It’s why we kept asking for her. I was her first save at the Last Supper, among other firsts.” He winks at me, joking about being my first kiss.
Sam's body stiffens next to me, and he scowls at Wesley.
Wes has got to stop poking Sam’s buttons.
“I wish we’d listened to you instead of seeing you as a threat.”
So many things could have been avoided. So much time could’ve been saved. If Wesley hadn't Marked me and I hadn't healed him and he hadn't tried to reach me, my aunt wouldn't be Marked. Actually, none of this would have happened. It's horrifying to realize how each of these small events led us to where we are now. Again, I've got some t
hings to talk to the man upstairs about, if he's really up there. And if he really listens, which seems monumentally unlikely given the state of the world.
But I’d never have met my mom or Adam. Solomon would still be terrorizing everyone, and probably eradicating Rafe and all his people in the next few days. Maybe some of it happened for a reason.
“You have five days to save Aunt Anne,” I say. “And we want to help you, but I need to tell you something else first, because this isn’t our only deadline.”
Uncle Dan's eyebrows draw together and his eyes focus, as if he’s putting puzzle pieces together finally. “Where are Job and Rhonda again?”
I try to swallow the lump that forms whenever I think about Rhonda, but it's not working.
Sam clears his throat. “The leader of the Marked is a guy named Rafe. Incidentally he's also my younger brother.”
Uncle Dan's eyes widen. “Really?”
Sam nods. “That's not relevant, though. Or I don't think it is.” Sam goes on to explain how I escaped Galveston the first time and then why I went back. He tells Uncle Dan about Rafe's ultimatum, and why I stayed on the island in spite of it to prevent the Cleansing.
When Sam explains about the Test and David Solomon's edict, Uncle Dan closes his eyes. “Something happened and it took more than three days.”
I nod, but his eyes remain closed so he can't see me. I force the lump down so I can speak. “Yes.”
“Rhonda?”
I force the words out. “I sent a messenger to Rafe, asking him for more time.”
Uncle Dan opens his eyes. “And?”
I shake my head.
“Surely he wouldn't really kill her?” he asks. “What kind of leader would do that?”
“A leader who thinks he has no other choice.” Wesley says. “A leader who started making hard decisions at the age of ten. He's all alone and no one's ever helped them.”
“We go to Baton Rouge first,” Uncle Dan says. “And then we head back to Port Gibson. Sam, will you help? Your dad will be there for the execution.”
Sam wraps one arm around my shoulder and kisses my forehead. “I won't leave Ruby and I doubt Rafe will let her leave Baton Rouge.”
Sins of Our Ancestors Boxed Set Page 57
