Marked

The ride to the mountain was a bumpy one. The night obscured most of the scenery outside the armored truck but Rachel could still make out the massive tree trunks that buzzed by. Sweet mountain air seeped through cracks and crevices, filling her lungs, calming her, if only just a little.

She jostled in her seat, her teeth rattling inside her skull. She held on to the bottom of the bench with a white-knuckled grip, hoping the ride would be a quick one.

The groans of the other trucks behind them echoed through the night like the grumbles of wild beasts. The entirety of the bunker’s army crammed into the cars like sardines, not willing to risk the capital catching their aircrafts on radar. Yalina had assured them that the air was more monitored than the land and that they’d be far enough away from the capital that their little trip to the mountain full of weapons should go undetected.

Either way, they had to work fast. It had already been half an hour of driving and Rachel was growing impatient. Sitting around gave her too much time to think—she just wanted to go into action, to have adrenaline pumping through her veins. Only then was she able to forget about Jed and Hector and Ruth. Only then was she able to focus on the task at hand.

Juan sat across from her, his shoulders tense as he leaned forward, elbows resting against his knees. He smacked his thumbs against one another over and over. In the dim lighting, he looked much older, no longer the kid she’d met back on the mountain. She sometimes forgot he was only seventeen.

Beside him sat Yalina, quietly lost in far-away thoughts. Only Simone was missing but Rachel knew she’d decided to stay behind with a few other women to care for the bunker’s children. A small group of guards--the only ones we could afford to spare--would stay with them and take them deep into the woods if Rachel’s team failed.

Rachel had been pleasantly surprised at how many people had volunteered to fight. Old, young, male, and female alike. Everyone who could fight was aboard the armored trucks.

Pride surged through her at the bravery of the people around her but also a debilitating fear. She hoped all this would not be in vain.

She closed her eyes and focused on steadying the storm of emotions within her. Her head leaned back against cool metal. Her breathing grew slower and slower, her eyelids heavier.

Though she wasn’t fully asleep, she was transported back to the first time she’d seen him, to the first time she’d seen Hector.

The groan of the engine transformed to the hush-hush of the forest, the sound of the tires turned to twigs cracking as the forest awakened with life.

It was at that hour, where even the birds hadn’t yet begun their songs, when the sky would turn from periwinkle to blue, that Rachel would sneak away from her cave. The place where the river left the mountain and where the grass was dewy was her favorite place to draw.

And as she’d sketched that day, she’d hear the whistle of an arrow through the forest followed by a thud.

Then the sound of the triumphant hunter’s boots, snapping twigs beneath them as he walked to collect his kill.

Though she’d expected hunters to be out at that hour, what she hadn’t expected was for one of his prey to dash across her lap, scattering her supplies in the process.

Startled, she looked to the edge of the forest where the hunter had emerged from. It’d been a tall man, in a long-sleeved t-shirt and light washed jeans. He’d brought his index finger to his lips and had motioned for her to stay quiet.

She’d been frozen then, her eyes dashing between the man and the squirrel one rock over who scratched at its face with its paws.

Sunlight had turned the man’s hair chestnut and she’d gotten an inexplicable urge to replicate the color with paint.

The man had lifted his bow, the arrow notched in the groove, the fletching just barely touching his full bottom lip.

Releasing the arrow, it’d whistled through the air, making a wet sound as it pierced the animal.

Rachel remembered she’d made a noise of surprise, something between a gasp and a cry.

The man, Hector, had approached her. He’d knelt down beside her and gathered her supplies and said, “I’m sorry you had to see that. But we’ve got little kids to feed.”

And then, he’d collected his kill, tied it to his belt beside two other birds and had gone on his way.

She hadn’t known him then, but now that she did, she recognized the kindness of his acts.

He was a selfless man, of that, she was sure. And she wished so badly to return to that point in time, to a time in history where Hector was free, relatively safe and unmarked.

Rachel opened her eyes, blinking them rapidly to keep from crying.

After another half hour of traveling, the truck came to an abrupt stop.

Rachel flexed her jaw, trying to get her ears to pop. She had grown unaccustomed to the elevation during the time she’d spent living underground and now struggled to regain her sense of direction.

Up on the mountain, the air was thinner, the wind colder, the air fresher.

Familiar.

Michael hopped out of the driver’s seat, his bandaged hands now covered with a long, black shirt.

He nodded to her and produced from his pocket a small, glowing stick. He waved it above his head, guiding the other trucks toward him.

Once the last of the trucks came to a halt, the people looked to him for direction. “We’ll take two teams to bring the weapons out. No need for all of us to cram in there. The rest of you stay out here and keep watch. Pass the message along.” He said to the people near him.

Murmurs travelled down the length of the crowd, skittering and echoing in the mountain wind.

Rachel turned to look at Juan. “How many bombs do you think we’ll need for your plan to work?”

“A lot,” He replied. “We need enough to drop into the city after the electricity has been shut off, enough that their numbers will be weakened. ”

“That’s a great plan, Juan. Good job.” Yalina clapped him on the back. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Juan rolled his eyes. “Well, might as well put the aircraft into good use. Once we shut off the power they won’t be able to see the aircraft coming so we don’t have to worry about them shooting us out of the sky. It has to be timed just right and we gotta drop the bombs where it will hurt them the most. That’s where you come in.” He pointed to Yalina’s chest.

“Let’s get going.” Michael urged. They followed after him, a group of about twenty, woman and men alike. They climbed over sharps rocks and bumpy terrain. It reminded Rachel of the compound, especially when the mouth of a cave became visible.

Unlike her home mountain, this one had a metal door in plain sight.

“You know the city inside and out. Where’s a good place to dump those babies onto?” Juan asked.

“Well, the guard’s stations for starters. That’s where they train and hang out and they’ve got guard posts too.” Yalina was huffing, much like the other bunker people, the strain of climbing the mountain taking its toll on them.

Rachel looked at Juan and they both shared a smile. It was so easy for them; they’d been doing this their whole lives after all, that the climb hardly fazed them.

Michael reached the door and pulled out a notepad with a bunch of numbers scrawled on it. Rachel strained to see what was on it but she could only make out scribbles. He proceeded to punch the code in furiously. The metal door remained closed but a green button erupted from the surface and flashed.

Michael pressed it and leaned forward to very careful enunciate a word into the speaker. “Freedom,” He said and the heaviness of the word hung in the air like a weight. Rachel wondered if his father had kept this place a secret because he held on to the hope that someday freedom would be attainable again.

He just hadn’t anticipate that his wife would thwart him at every step, even long after he was dead.

The door flung open revealing a long hallway ahead that lit up slowly, each overhead light bursting to life, buzzing with an inanimate yawn.

“Come on, the weapons are this way.” Michael motioned for them to follow with his hand and they obliged, carefully trekking their way down the hall. Though it was unlikely anyone else was in there, the unfamiliar landscape made them cautious.

The mouth of the hall opened up into a room filled with massive screens all mounted on the wall. Chairs lay out before the screens and in front of the chairs were many dormant panels. Michael flipped on a switch to his left and the room flooded with light.

It was empty and quiet and the cold seeped into the soles of their feet from the heart of the mountain rock beneath them.

To the right lay a door where Michael punched in another code. It swung open and the group peered inside. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of weapons, all neatly catalogued and arranged against the walls. Ammo, grenades, hand bombs, everything was labeled and meticulously organized.

“Grab some bags and let’s fill up.”