The Markings

THE MARKINGS


Copyright © 2020 Catherine Downen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other wise, without written permission of the author.
ISBN-13: 9798620843619
First edition, March 2020
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and individuals either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


For those who need an escape…


Part 1: The Beginning


Chapter 1
My frail fingers curl around the jagged rock. I press it into the stone wall and drag it up and down until a small groove forms. I drop the rock and step back, glancing over all the lines I’ve made. It is day 2,436 of being in this prison with my mother and younger brother.
“Adaline, you’ve got to stop tallying. You’ve filled the entire cell with your lines,” my mother, Rosa Sagel, groans. She sits with her back against the opposite wall, and her eyelids threaten to fall closed as she blinks slowly.
“I need to keep track so I’m ready when we escape,” I say in a hushed voice. It may have been nearly seven years of being locked in here, but I’ve almost finished my escape plan.
“Addie,” my younger brother sings in his childish voice.
“Don’t call me that, Titus,” I say, taking a seat next to him on the old ripped up mattress.
“Will you tell me the story about the rocks again?” Titus asks slowly. He has a hard time finding the words he wants to say. I know he means the story about the asteroids that reset civilization on this planet nearly 100 years ago. When we were arrested Titus was just a baby, and I was only nine years old. I’ve been trying to teach him about our history and how to read and do math, but he’s still far behind where a seven-year-old should be. I really only blame myself.
“Don’t you have that story memorized by now?” I joke, poking him in the stomach. He laughs, and just as I’m about to start the story my mother jumps up, alarmed.
She starts spinning around the room and asks me, “Adaline, what day did you say it was?”
“2,436,” I say, scanning her worried face.
“Are you sure?” she asks sternly.
“I’m pretty sure,” I say gently.
“It’s fine. I’ll just count them,” my mother brushes me off.
“I can help,” I say, and together we move around the cell, counting all of my tally marks until we get to the one I made this morning.
“2,436,” my mother whispers, tracing the last line with her thin finger. “It’s time. It’s finally time.”
“Time for what?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“You are nearly 16 years old, Adaline. It’s time to be strong,” my mother says, sitting me down on the mattress with my brother.
“Actually, I’m 15 years and 363 days,” I correct. Ever since we were put in prison, I’ve become a numbers person. I’m always counting up to dates and back from them. It helps to keep time moving in here. Usually, my mother scolds me for correcting her or for bringing up my numbers, but right now her eyes fill with tears, and she gently cups my face with her hands.
“You did such a good job, Adaline,” my mother says, looking deep into my emerald eyes.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I choke out and give my head a soft shake. She seems to focus a bit and rubs her damp eyes.
“It’s time I tell you a secret,” my mother says.
Titus leans in and his eyes widen, “A secret?” My mother lets out a dry laugh before pulling an old, black diary from her grey prison shirt. “What’s that?” Titus asks.
“I am a Future Holder,” my mother says gently.
“You have a gift?” I ask, shocked. We never talked about gifts before. I learned about them in school once. A select group of people were infected during the fall of the world before ours, giving them magical powers. As a kid, I’d always wondered what it would be like if my family was gifted, but I had never thought it would be a reality.
“Yes, and so do you.” My mother hands me the diary, and I notice a small lock on its cover.
“What gift do I have?” I ask quietly.
“You are a Force Lifter, Adaline. You control whatever you see,” my mother says. “There is so much I never told you about how the gifts work. If someone is born with a gift, they will have a sense that is enhanced in a certain way. You have an enhanced sense of sight that lets you control what you see.”
All of the information my mother is telling me loses me, and I feel a confused glaze settle on my face. My mother pauses and must notice she’s lost me. “I have an enhanced sense of sight as well, but my powers are different. I can see into the future.”
“So I can save us?” I ask, as the idea of having magical powers fully processes.
“No!” my mother almost shrieks back to me. “You have to wait to use it until the time is perfectly right.”
“I don’t understand,” I draw out my words,