Marked

The pair of eyes that met Rachel’s weren’t human.

Their cheers and hollers reached her and it was with shock that she realized nothing lay beneath the poacher’s gaze but cold and cruel determination.

She knew she should move, run, do something but fear had frozen her in her tracks. Worse yet was the sound of their laughter, like the cackling of hyenas, reminding her that she was now their prey, and they the hunters.

Ruth tugged on her wrist, forcing her out of her head and into reality.

“We’re going to lose them in the river. Just stay close and don’t look back.”

Ruth made a beeline for the forest and Rachel followed closely behind her.

There was an overwhelming urge to turn around and see if Bane was following but her mother was leading too quick- too fast- to even think.

Every step sent a shooting impact up her legs.

Branches slapped her across the face while the forest became a blur of greens and browns, all melting together to create chaos.

A desperate thought gripped her then.

Will the river be enough?

They had cars, they were faster, stronger and armed and she knew they would stop at nothing to capture them. To the poachers, this was far more than a job, it was a sport, something ingrained deep into the mechanisms of their brains.

Hunt the unmarked.

And have fun while doing it.

Rachel cringed as her foot bent over a rock.

She pressed on, her breath as wild as the hair that escaped her bun and blinded her as she went.

A few yards out, she spotted a vast clearing where the trees had been cut down and the land lay bare and realized they were going the wrong way.

“Mom, the river isn’t--”

“Change of plans,” Ruth panted. “When I tell you to jump, you jump. You don’t hesitate-you don’t ask questions, you just jump. Do you understand?”

Rachel nodded her head furiously.

Behind them, she could hear the whirring of an engine and the delighted shouts of the poachers.

They were steps from the edge of the forest when it came into view--a steep slope, jagged and rough, leading down between two plates of land.

Panic rose in her chest.

It must have been a twenty-foot drop.

A gunshot cracked against the air, ricocheting from tree to tree and Rachel ducked.

“Mom!”

“Just do as I say, Rachel!”

The engine drew closer.

Rachel stole a glimpse behind her and saw the white armor of the truck just visible between the breaks in the trees.

We’re going to die.

My God we’re going to die.

They reached the end of the clearing, their feet sending rocks skittering down into the abyss.

Ruth gripped her palm and Rachel bent over, her other hand braced against her knee.

“Now, Rachel!” Her mom shouted but Rachel yanked her hand back at the last moment, a gripping fear of heights overcoming self preservation.

She watched as Ruth folded her body into the fetal position, arms cradled around her head like a cage, and tumbled over sharp rocks and branches and debris with nothing to break her fall except for the hard-packed earth at the bottom

“Look guys, we’ve got one up ahead!” Someone shouted.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the car clearly now.

Four men were mounted on it, clinging to side bars as they idled toward her.

Rachel tore her eyes from them and saw that her mother had reached the bottom.

For a fleeting second, she thought she must be dead but then Ruth pulled herself up onto her hands and knees and yelled, “Rachel, you stupid, stupid girl! Jump!”

But it was too late.

The men were mere feet away now and all Rachel could do was stand there like a deer frozen in headlights.

“We can have us some fun with this pretty one!” A poacher cackled, one finger pointed at her. “She looks brand new.”

“I call it first!” Another chimed.

“Hey, there’s plenty to go around. We’ll take turns.”

Rachel reached for her pocket knife and felt it’s comforting blade flat against the side of her skirt.

Whatever monstrous things they planned to do with her, she would not go easily.

Death over Mark, that had always been the mantra.

But she found that mantras were difficult to hold on to when you were terrified for your life.

“Don’t be afraid, little beggar.” A wide, pudgy man purred.

“Yeah, we’ll give you something to beg about,” A second poacher jumped from the truck and landed on the ground, as the others cackled behind him.

He was a broad man with a red beard and he approached her as if she were a wounded animal he didn’t want to startle.

Her erratic heart beat filled her ears.

It was all she could hear, the wild pumping of a heart that knew, perhaps better than her scattered brain did, that the end was near.

No.

This couldn’t be it, she’d hardly lived.

She took a step backwards.

The open air was a tangible thing pushing between her shoulder blades, reminding her that below lay an open chasm, a tomb, or both.

Jump, she thought.

But the order would not reach her body.

The poacher drew closer.

She wondered what it would feel like to sink her knife into someone. Would the flesh be soft and yielding, like cutting through butter or would there be resistance? Could she really stand in front of someone and watch the life drain from their eyes?

Death before Mark.

Rachel spun for the edge of the clearing when a large, meaty hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back.

She collided with a hard chest that knocked the air out of her lungs.

A set of muscled arms wrapped around her waist.

He smelled of sweat and dirt and she could see the mark over his forehead, a tattoo of consecutive black lines that formed a barcode.

The man lifted his arm slowly and stroked Rachel’s face.

The men behind him cheered and she squirmed in his hold but it only tightened. He was so much stronger, she had waited too long to run and from here it was impossible to even reach her knife.

She could almost hear Ruth scolding her.

Stupid, you’re so stupid, Rachel.

Just as the fear of dying began to make her wild and panicked, a flitter of movement from the forest’s edge caught her attention.

Bane emerged from the cover of trees, one hand firmly pressed against the wound on his stomach.

Despite being pale from blood loss, on his face was a look of blind rage and determination.

It all happened so fast.

Bane reached the truck and yanked something cylindrical from the jacket of one of the poachers. They were too slow to pull their guns and Bane threw himself towards Rachel just as an explosion went off, setting the evening sky on fire.

A wave of heat scorched her face as she fell onto the ground, the poacher beside her.

“You filthy beggar!” With a roar, the red-haired poacher lifted his gun and pointed it at Bane.

“No!” Rachel shouted.

Her knife unsheathed and ready, she shoved it into his sinewy arm and he dropped his gun with a scream.

Just then, Bane grabbed Rachel and hurled her over the edge of the world and into darkness.