Marked

Chapter Thirty-Eight

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.