The Fate Of The Marked

Chapter Three

The next morning passed in a blur. Two social workers entered my room not long after I woke and asked me more questions.

I was beginning to feel stupid for not being able to answer them. The woman sneered at me shoved plain black clothes and shoes that looked like someone had hoped through mud puddles into my arms. I went to the bathroom without a word to change, remembering what the officer had said about being taken to a foster home.

I tried to keep my hands from shaking.

It didn't work.

The male worker told me to simply call him Zach, but I called him sir instead. It felt disrespectful to speak to him in a casual way like that. The woman social worker did not speak to me at all. The shoes pinched my feet as I walked.

A new nurse came into the room with a wheelchair. I felt my face flush.

"Can I just walk?" I asked.

She gave me a wan smile, as if I were a small child asking for something silly, and refused. I sat, trying to ignore the woman's cackle.

We all set off without a word. The trip to the car was silent, the only sound was the nurses steady footsteps. I got in the backseat of a black nondescript car, legs shaking, wondering how long I had until the pain medicine wore off.

All at once, a panic hit me. I had no idea who these people were. They could take me anywhere. I wasn't sure where the paronia came from, but it was enough to make me bring my knees up to my chest. I fliped the lock on the door so I could open it, as if that would be an option if we were going sixty miles an hour on a highway.

No one spoke for nearly an hour. I tried to imagine something funny, like like Zach, who was driving, pleasantly told me that I was going to a small farm in Alexandria, North Carolina.

"They have a boy, Max, who's about the same age we think you are. Come to think of it, Mick and Jordan can't be much younger than you either."

Think you are.

Not for the first time, I wished I knew something. Anything. I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

"How old do you think I am?" I asked softly.

The woman social worker snorted and I felt my face turn red again. Zach gave her a sharp glare before turning his eyes back to the road. She sobered at once.

"About or thirteen or fourteen." He said. "Not much older than that, unless you're small for your age."

I looked out the window, not being able to think of anything else to ask despite my racing thoughts.

"We're only about another thirty minuets away. We should be there by lunch," Zach said cheerfully.

It had no effect on me. The sky was cloudy and I wondered if it would storm. I got a flash, just a brief glimpse, that I liked the sound of thunder. I shook the thought off and leaned my head against the cold glass, feeling each bump in the road, ignoring the ache that was growing in my head.

Rain began to pound against the windows. I didn't open my eyes. Instead, I allowed the sound to lull me into a light stupor. I concentrated on breathing in and out.

I was jolted awake when the car stopped. The rain was coming down harder now. I noticed was the wide open space and the dying, green grass. The large brick house was barely visible from my seat. My heart skipped a beat. Zach turned the car off and turned to look at me. I undid my own, hands trembling.

"We're here," He said. "Mr. and Mrs. Lee are waiting. Are you coming in, Rebecca?"

The woman shook her thin, straw colored hair over her shoulder and waved a hand as though swatting an annoying bug away.