Sins of Our Ancestors Boxed Set

by Bridget E. Baker

  Uncle Dan frowns. “Amidst all these details, you didn't mention that the two of you are . . . well, what are you doing?”

  “Ruby's my girlfriend.”

  Uncle Dan glances at Wesley in confusion.

  Wesley snorts. “Don't look at me. I was as shocked as you.”

  “Well, okay.” Uncle Dan scratches his head. “I hope we can reason with your brother, Sam. Let's go find out. We haven't had a lick of luck in weeks. I think we're due.”

  Frank agrees to ride in the rear van so my uncle can ride with us. We reach Baton Rouge an hour before sunset. Armed guards stand near a barricade. Rafe's taking precautions. I'm glad, but I worry about the men Adam insisted I bring. I order them all to stand down and they actually listen. Without Adam around to countermand my every order, they're fairly well behaved.

  The Marked guards take their guns, but they don't take Sam's. Then they wave us through. Sam, under Wesley's direction, drives first this time, the Jeeps trailing after.

  Marked kids gather to watch us, exactly like the last time. But I recognize some of their faces today, and that almost makes it worse. Even though I see a few I know, I can't read their expressions. If I had to describe their set jaws, their dour brows and their flinty eyes, I'd say they look grim. I hope it means they're mad at me for taking so long. I hope it means they're scared the cure won't work. I hope it means anything but what I fear.

  Wesley points and Sam pulls up in front of the same hospital we parked near last time. When I see a reddish brown Mohawk moving toward us in the distance, my stomach ties in knots. It's Monday and I was due back Saturday. Rafe said he wouldn't wait. Was he lying?

  He walks straight over to the driver’s side window, but he doesn't walk up to Sam. He knocks on the glass separating me from him. I roll my window down.

  “Your Royal Highness,” he says. “So glad you condescended to come all the way down to Baton Rouge. I can see you brought an honor guard.”

  I frown. “I'm sorry it took so long, but I came as quickly as I could after ensuring the Cleansing wouldn't be pursued.”

  Rafe nods. “You did what you felt needed to be done.”

  I sigh with relief. “Oh good.”

  “I did what I had to do, too.”

  He didn't.

  Rafe turns on his heel and starts to walk down the main road. He calls out over his shoulder. “Please follow me. I see you have more people with you this time. We can bring some cots for everyone to the plasma center, or we can find them somewhere else to sleep. Up to you.”

  I open the door and practically run after him. “Don't do this. Don't play games with me Rafe. It's beneath you. Just tell me. Is Rhonda alive?”

  Rafe's words are clipped when he says, “I'm not playing games, and I won't apologize. This may feel like make-believe to you, but to the rest of us finding this cure is life and death, literally. I don't think you quite comprehend that.”

  I grab his hand. “Where is Rhonda?”

  Sam walks up behind me, and Uncle Dan too.

  Rafe lifts one eyebrow. “I don't make hollow threats, and I told you what would happen if you delayed. I executed Rhonda Orien at sunset on Saturday.”

  8

  I spit at Rafe. “What kind of monster are you?”

  Rafe wipes the spit from his face, and turns around to continue on his way as though nothing happened. Todd and the other six armed men walk right alongside him. I force myself to look at them, but I don't recognize anyone other than Todd. I'd feel more betrayed if Sean or some of the guards I met on our trip down to Galveston had been facing off against me.

  Sam’s voice is low and the words seem to sink into the ground around us as he speaks. “You really are our father's son, aren't you?”

  Rafe's shoulders stiffen, but he doesn't turn around, and he doesn't slow down.

  Sam's words remind me that I'm not the only person devastated by this news. I turn slowly toward Uncle Dan. I've never seen him cry. I've never even seen him angry. Aunt Anne screeched and squawked when I spilled coffee on her desk. She ranted when I forgot to clean my room or failed to water the garden. She cried when a chicken or a goat died. Uncle Dan only shrugged when Rhonda knocked the glass case off the mantel and it shattered, his Olympic gold medals sliding across the tile floor. Earlier today, when he told me Aunt Anne was being held, he looked fragile, human for the first time. I realized he might actually be susceptible to fear, to pain and to loss.

  He collapses to his knees now, hands balled into tight fists, tears streaking his face. His head shakes almost imperceptibly, and I realize he's not fragile anymore, he's not cracked. No, Uncle Dan is shattered. The desperation, exhaustion, and helplessness have travelled deep enough to decimate the core of who he was.

  “Why isn't he angry?” I whisper. “I was worried he'd attack Rafe.”

  Sam pulls me against him. “Rafe still controls Job. And if Dan attacks him, your uncle will be Marked too. Then he can't go back to save Anne. The strongest men know when to fight and when to fold, but it doesn't mean it's easy to do.”

  Why didn't I inoculate my uncle before we came? I can't even bear to look at him right now. I'm sure he blames me for Rhonda's death, because I blame myself.

  Something niggles at the back of my mind. A memory from last week before all the real chaos began. Solomon told me Sam was dead once when he wasn't. Maybe this isn't true either. Maybe Rafe's punishing us with this, making us think he killed Rhonda. He's a leader, a tough man, and although it would piss him off, he's not entirely unlike David Solomon.

  “Do you think he really did it?” I glance from Sam to Wesley. “Or could he be lying?”

  My hope withers on the vine when Wesley won't meet my eyes, but it's not entirely dead. No one knows him better than Wesley, but even he’s only known him a few weeks.

  I sprint down the path after Rafe, my desperate hope giving wings to my feet. Boots behind me drumming against the pavement tell me Sam, Wesley, and the guards are chasing after me. Good grief. I slow down until they catch up. Uncle Dan forces himself to his feet and hobbles along after us too. He looks ten years older than the man I remember in Port Gibson. At least catching up to me has given him purpose, and he's moving instead of slumped on the ground.

  By the time we catch up to Rafe, we're nearly to the plasma center.

  “Raphael.” I figure using his full given name might remind him that we know him, we know who he is, and his brother's here with us. His answers matter here.

  He stops moving, and spins on his booted foot. He raises one eyebrow.

  “I came to help you of my own volition,” I say. “I've been a friend to you and I offered whatever you needed. I only stayed longer in Galveston because it was the only way to ensure your people would be safe from WPN. I notified you with a messenger of the delay and my reasons for it. I risked my life that day to pass the test so I could end the threat of the Cleansing.”

  Rafe coughs. “My army protected you when you escaped Galveston. Without our help, you'd have been vulnerable to Solomon's pursuing guards. When you escaped, Sam was shot what? Six times? Without my men, you'd never have survived the day. After which, knowing your blood was our only hope, you still tried to sneak away from our camp. Only your guilt brought you back, and you jumped at the chance to return to Galveston to procure an allegedly valuable journal the following day.”

  “Allegedly valuable, yes, and I went back with your blessing. To save your brother.”

  Rafe sighs. “I'm glad Sam's here and relieved he's still alive.” He doesn't even glance at Sam and he shouldn't, because Sam loved Rhonda too. Sam's as angry as I am.

  “How could you do it?” I ask. “When you knew the reason for the delay? Did your heart stop beating when Tercera kicked into year two?”

  Rafe spins around, his eyes flashing. “You want to pretend your time in WPN wasn't the least bit motivated by power or luxury? You stayed for yourself, and you have only yourself to blame.”

  “I wanted to run from t
hose insane lunatics after they told me I had to pass some Bible Exam. They would've killed me if I failed, which they set me up to do. I only stayed to help your people, you impatient, erratic, egomaniacal lunatic! Your rigid unwillingness to wait is on you.”

  Rafe steps toward me. “No one ever helps us. No one. They never have, not since the Marking. You aren't the perfect angel you imagine you are.”

  “We sent you the suppressant for years,” I say. “And supplies. I know because my aunt, the mother of the girl you shot, made that suppressant every month.”

  Rafe snorts. “The suppressant was a Band-Aid. The cure has never been a priority. The worst thing about Tercera is that it kills us too slowly. We all know we're dying, but there's never any rush, so the poor Marked kids never, ever come first. You've tossed pills at us from behind your walls for a decade, ignoring the fact that we're barely surviving. When we break an arm, we have to read outdated textbooks that detail how to set it, and bind it and then we have to muddle through the execution on our own. If that arm never works again, well that’s too bad. When one of us gets an infection, we guess which antibiotics to take, antibiotics we scrounge from old pharmacies, long since expired. No one cares about us, no one helps us, and that's how it's always been, so don't act like some kind of saint.”

  “I'm sorry the Unmarked ignored you. I'm sorry no one has helped you, and I don't claim to be a saint, but I've been trying. Basic triage rules require the most pressing issues to be prioritized. That's what I did a few days ago, knowing you might be insane enough to shoot my cousin. I did it because it's what Rhonda would've wanted.” I choke up and cough to clear my throat. I wipe my eyes and press on. “I'll continue to do the same now, even though you have clearly lost your mind. We have five days to save my aunt. She's going to be executed for trying to alert the Unmarked about the failure of the suppressants that kept you alive. She thought some of you might still be able to go back on them, if we could figure out where they were exchanged. She was tried for her trouble and is awaiting execution.”

  Rafe frowns. “We don't want to go back on the suppressants. I'm sorry she's awaiting execution. It's unfortunate, but it's one person. There are a hundred thousand of us.”

  My mouth drops open. “Unfortunate? It's tragic. And one life may not matter to you in general, but hers should. She may be the one person who could actually take my blood and create the solution I’m beginning to think you don’t deserve.”

  He shakes his head. “You aren't leaving, not for any reason.”

  “Rafe, I did what I did because we only had a few weeks to prevent the Cleansing, and we have months yet to figure out how to use my blood as a cure. My aunt has days. You must see that there's a difference.”

  “Wrong,” Rafe says. “Your aunt isn't the only person at risk right now. My people are dying every day. My friend Paul died on Saturday. Morgan died this morning. You don't care about them, but I do. I'm sick of everyone else's emergencies, every other person's problems mattering more than ours. We're your top priority today and every day until we have a solution. I did what I did because you need to understand, all of you. We are done waiting, done being patient. Done with being shoved to the end of the line, and if my actions make me a monster, so be it. If I’m a monster, maybe people will actually listen to me for once.”

  I glance at Wesley, who looks as confused as me. “You said you 'did what you did'. Are you talking about Rhonda? Did you really shoot her?”

  Rafe nods. “My ultimatum got you here, which is what my people need.”

  Sam says, “We were already coming. Your actions ensured that every single one of us hates you more than anyone else alive.”

  Rafe flinches. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Well young man,” Uncle Dan says, his voice deep, but still shaky with grief, “you did what you needed to do, and I'll do what I need to do. Tomorrow morning I'm taking my son and my remaining daughter and returning to the Unmarked. I need them to help me halt my wife’s execution. We also need Sam to petition his father to hear the appeal of her case, and then we'll all testify on her behalf. Job's testimony is absolutely critical, as is Ruby's. With Sam's petition, we're hoping his dad will reverse the ruling. We will return as quickly as possible.”

  Rafe laughs. “My dad only cares about himself. He won't reverse anything.”

  Dan squares his shoulders. “Your father has been a dear friend of mine for many years. He may not be perfect, but he loves Sam and he cares about me. He might reverse the ruling and ask for a new trial because I've asked him, but he certainly will if his son begs.”

  “I'm his son and he hasn't done a single thing for me, not ever.” Rafe walks the last few steps and opens the door to the plasma center. “If you're relying on my dad's help, you're wasting your time.” Rafe steps inside.

  Uncle Dan calls out loudly. “It is my choice to make, and my time to waste. I'll be gathering my children and taking them with me.”

  “Well then.” Rafe's voice carries from inside the one story, red brick building. “Come on in and see what Job's working on.” Todd and three Marked kids I don't know follow him inside.

  I look at my surroundings for the first time. The Life Share Blood Center looks the same, down to the armed guards standing on either side of the entrance, but there's far more activity surrounding it. The formerly empty building facing Jasmine Boulevard behind it, and the tall, striped, concrete and columned building to the left of it are both busy, people standing outside and talking, others ducking inside.

  “What's going on?” I ask.

  “You sent more plasma back,” Todd says. “Job found some way to amplify it or replicate it, or something. He's doing some tests using antibodies from his blood too. We've expanded his clinical trials and cleaned up the surrounding buildings to make space.”

  I walk slowly to the doors and step inside. The last time I came inside, Rhonda stood next to me. My next breath is ragged, but I force myself to keep walking. Sam, Wesley, and eventually Uncle Dan follow me through the door. Frank's on their heels, followed by Stan. I hold out my hand. “My guards will all wait outside.”

  Frank opens his mouth to argue, and Sam cuts him off. “You'll listen to your queen.”

  “Queen?” Job's smiling when he stands up. “I thought Rafe was kidding about that. Is that what took so long? I'm glad you sent some extra with Rafe, but we're out of your plasma again. I need more right away. Why didn't you come Saturday?”

  Why isn't Job angry, sad, or at least upset? He crosses the room purposefully and pulls me into a quick hug. “Glad you made it.” He turns toward Sam, still smiling. “And you! It's amazing to see you standing here. How'd you survive six shots to the chest?” He hugs Sam, too. He does a double take when he sees his dad.

  “Dad!” He leaps the two remaining steps that separate them, and pulls his dad into a hug. When he lets go, he looks around expectantly. “Wait, where's mom?”

  Uncle Dan sighs. “She went back to Port Gibson to look for information on the suppressant failing, but she didn't get a message to me before she was caught. They tried her for risking Marking the Unmarked on Friday.”

  Job frowns. “She would never Mark anyone else.”

  Uncle Dan shrugs. “Fairchild didn't see it that way, probably because of all the Marked attacks. There've been seven people Marked in the last few weeks. He found her guilty. We have five days before the sentence is carried out.”

  Job turns to Rafe. “The twins can handle the trials for a few days. They're up to speed on all the protocols and requirements.”

  Rafe shakes his head. “Job, you know I want to help you and you've made it clear your mother would be a real asset, but I can't risk the one person I have who can run these.”

  Job breathes in once and then back out slowly. “Ruby knows nearly as much as I do.”

  Rafe says, “She can't leave either because we need you both. I'm sorry.”

  “You aren't sorry.” I cross my arms and scowl at Rafe. “And I don
't think you even told Job.”

  Job's brow furrows. “Told me what?”

  Rafe swallows and looks at the ground.

  “You've been working in here non-stop,” I say. “Right? Day and night?”

  Job nods.

  “Rafe gave me an ultimatum last week.” My hands clench into fists so tightly that my nails score my palms. “He said I had to return to Baton Rouge by Saturday evening.”

  “And?” Job looks around in a daze, from Wesley to Sam and back to me.

  “It's Monday,” I say quietly.

  Job glances at Rafe. “What did you say you'd do if she was late?”

  Rafe's jaw clenches.

  Sam grinds out the words. “He executed Rhonda.”

  Job snorts. “No way. Rafe wouldn't do that.”

  Rafe looks anywhere but at Job's face. His boots shift, and he shuffles toward the door. “I rule among the leaderless, the cast offs, because my people trust me. I keep every promise I make. I'll let your father leave to try and prevent the death of your mother.” Rafe shoulders square. “I'll even let Wesley or Sam go with him to plead with our father if you’re delusional enough to think it might help, but I need at least one of them as leverage to make sure Ruby focuses.”

  “You want me to focus?” I ask. “Say what you mean. You need someone here you can threaten to kill if our results are sub par. Isn’t that the truth?”

  Rafe doesn't flinch, not this time. “It's non-negotiable.”

  I've been so caught up with my own anger that I didn't watch Job or notice his reaction to the news about Rhonda. A small whimper catches my attention. Job has collapsed to the floor, his knees folded against his chest, and he’s rocking back and forth. Tears flow freely down his cheeks. Uncle Dan walks over to him and pulls Job against his chest. He pats his back, finding some hidden reserve of strength left with which to comfort his child, Rhonda’s twin.

  I almost hope Job's useless now. I hope Rafe broke his mind, temporarily at least, and has to watch as all his people die because of his own rash, unfeeling, sociopathic actions. He deserves that. Besides, the Marked don't deserve to live if this is how they operate.