The Marking

With a deep breath, Cara gathered her strength and sat up from the pool of sweat and blood she had been lying in for the last hour or so. The newborn at her breast stirred with the position change, but then fell back into the haze of nursing. She looked down at the bloody mess surrounding her on the floor and hoped that the bleeding was over. 

“This was not how this was supposed to go,” she said to no one. 

Gazing around the abandoned basement storage room full of discarded office chairs and rotting files, she gave herself a full thirty seconds to remember the time before the Gravegrinners. A time when her daughter would have been delivered in a safe, clean hospital room with caring nurses and careful doctors at the ready, and she could have slept while her baby was washed and changed and checked and measured. A time when imminent death was not a potential side effect of birth. A time when she wouldn’t have had to chew through an umbilical cord to separate her baby from the still-warm placenta lying next to her, after a twenty-hour labor on the musty floor of a commercial basement. Cara shifted the baby so she could cradle her with one hand, then reached for her backpack. She fished around until she found her only set of spare clothes and a large but thin blanket she’d found a few days ago. She shaped the blanket into a serviceable cushion, and carefully laid the baby down. Tiny eyelashes fluttered as the baby decided whether to sleep or cry. Cara leaned in close and nuzzled the tiny nose. With a yawn, her daughter gave in and settled into sleep. Cara studied the new face she’d brought into a terrible world. The baby, she realized, was her whole universe, and her own life was now dependent on the peaceful rise and fall of that little chest. She had to protect her daughter, above all else. 

Cara needed to move quickly, despite her entire being demanding sleep. With shaking legs, she stood, testing her body to see what it was capable of so soon after the Herculean effort she had put forth for the delivery. She paused, letting a wave of dizziness wash over her. Once it passed, she was grateful for how steady she felt. 

She saw that she was still bleeding, and rifled through her bags. She had stumbled upon a relatively well-stocked CVS a couple weeks ago, and needed her drug store supplies now. She poured some water on a rag, and washed herself as best as she could. Tucking another bottle of water inside her bra to warm it up before using it to bathe the baby, she broke into a pack of fresh underpants and carefully lined a pair with several pads. After forcing down a couple of Tylenol and dressing her aching body, she gingerly worked on getting her newborn ready. Her fingers shook from both nerves and the unfamiliarity of the task. 

She checked her watch. She needed to find the city, and she couldn’t miss the Marking. 

As Cara wiped her baby clean, she longed for her own mother. About a month ago, as they were following signs to the sanctuary city, they had run out of water. Her mother had told her to stay hidden in an alley and had gone off to try to fill their canteens. Less than five minutes later she had heard her mother scream, then the unmistakable crunching of bone. Cara had stood by helplessly as her mother was shredded. Afterward, the monsters had come down the alley, their rough, scaly flesh close enough to touch as they lumbered away. She still had nightmares about the tearing and grinding noises. Once the baby was as clean as possible, Cara reached for the bag she’d been protecting more dearly than her food supplies. Opening it up, she pulled out a package of diapers and a pristine onesie with little sunshines smiling out at her from its soft white fabric. She dressed the baby, and then pulled out the real prize: an infant carrier. She frowned at the instructions and carefully made sense of how to put it on securely. Finally, she had it on, and she lifted the baby into it. The baby cooed and nuzzled against her chest. She pulled out her last item—a pack of pacifiers—and slipped one into her daughter’s angelic little mouth. Then she packed up everything she could fit in her backpack, and used the rest to cover the mess she’d left on the floor. 

With another deep breath, she walked up the stairs. It took much more effort than it usually would have, but her system was beyond taxed. She had managed to barricade the door at the top in between labor pains, and she now carefully unstacked the various chairs and old printers that formed her makeshift security system. With her hard work undone, she slowly opened the door a crack and listened harder than she ever had before. She counted to ten to slow her breathing.

One, two, three. Inhale.

Four, five, six. Exhale.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. Inhale.

Cara stepped through the door and prayed her baby would sleep. The city would only be a fifteen-minute walk if she didn’t encounter any problems. She gave the pacifier a little push to make sure it was snug between those tiny, perfect lips. “We’re gonna make it, I promise,” she whispered, for both their benefit. 

She walked as quickly as she dared across the empty office. Rounding a corner, she spotted the front door of the building and the security desk. She headed for the guard station with a bit of hope, and was rewarded when she yanked open one of the drawers and a taser rattled into view. She carefully tucked it in the side pocket of her backpack and crept toward the glass doors separating her from the outside world. She knew it was unrealistic to treat the building as safer—she had certainly seen the Gravegrinners trample their way through walls to devour the Unmarked—but the familiar mental habit of walls meaning safety hadn’t yet had time to fade. 

Outside the building, she saw the same bizarre landscape that had settled into place several months ago. Everything looked exactly as it had, except that there were no people to be seen anywhere. A couple of cars were rotting in the street. A few windows were broken here and there. Everything looked mostly normal, just abandoned. It created a disturbing sense of safety, in a way. 

Cara checked her watch. Only forty-five minutes until the Marking, assuming the sanctuary city hadn’t lost the Marker or been overrun by Gravegrinners. As her mind began to spin through every terrifying reality, she reminded herself to breathe. 

One, two, three. Inhale.

Four, five, six. Exhale.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. Inhale.

With her next exhale, she stepped through the door and onto the street. She stayed close to the walls as she walked as quickly as she could, not quite daring to run while the baby was sleeping. As she settled into the now-familiar rhythm of walking while keeping her senses on high alert, she allowed her mind time to wander. 

Seven months ago, she had been safe in her mother’s house, arguing with her boyfriend about whether to keep the baby she now cradled against her chest. He had always wanted to be a dad, but she still didn’t feel prepared to be a parent. She had turned away from him to try to put her thoughts in order when she caught sight of something outside. It was a falling star. She closed her eyes and wished silently for the right answer about whether to keep the baby. When she opened her eyes, the falling star was still there, and getting larger by the second. Her eyes grew round with fear as she became certain it was going to hit the house. Instead, the meteorite landed with a crash in the middle of the street. Her boyfriend had also seen the incoming meteorite, and they both leaned against the window to get a better look at the impossible. The meteorite had created a crater in the road, and now something was crawling out of it.

The monster that emerged was as tall as a house, with four thick legs whose joints seemed to be able to bend in any direction. It was mottled grey with rough skin. Her boyfriend had turned and run away from the window, but Cara stood rooted to the floor and watched as her next-door neighbor ran out of his house, waving a shotgun around and screaming. The beast turned and descended on him. It was surprisingly fast, and the ground shook with each step it took. Her neighbor fired off at least three direct hits, but the monster healed as quickly as it was hurt. Then it opened its nightmarish mouth. Silver teeth gleamed in the moonlight, large and long with jagged tips. As the first row of teeth parted, row after row appeared behind, as if the creature had endless ravenous mouths. Her neighbor watched, paralyzed in horror, as the skin around the monster’s mouth wrinkled up around its lips, pushing its eyes up and away from its skull in order to see its meal over rows of brutal jaws. 

For a brief instant, a terrible stillness encompassed the scene. The monster struck as quickly as a cobra, snatching the neighbor into all those horrible teeth. His legs kicked with desperation as his muffled, panicked screams emanated from inside the monster’s maw. As the last row of teeth sunk into the man’s thighs, each set of teeth rotated around him in opposite directions, pulling him apart with steely efficiency. 

Suddenly there was a crash, and she was covered in debris. She turned toward the sound and saw another creature staring down at her. She screamed in terror as it leaned toward her. Just above the horrible mouth were six dark, unblinking eyes and a small slit near the top of its head. The slit seemed to be sniffing at her. She felt a gruff exhale on her face and hoped death would come quickly. But then the creature brushed past her toward the kitchen where her boyfriend had gone to hide. She heard her boyfriend scream in the same terrified way her neighbor had, followed by wet tearing noises and a sickening sound like chicken bones in a garbage disposal. She stood frozen in shock and fear until finally she heard the thump of the monster walking away. She collapsed on the floor, sobbing with terror and grief. 

The next couple of days were unlike any the world had ever experienced. She and her mother huddled in her basement, watching TV and searching the internet for information about what they should do. Slowly the story came together—the monsters, dubbed “Gravegrinners” by the news, had appeared all over the globe at the exact same moment. Witnesses described them falling from the sky as small meteorites that would then grow and become fully developed within a matter of seconds. They seemed to be choosy about their victims. Scientists worked to identify what the people who had been consumed had in common. One theory after another was developed and then discarded. People reported that they had been repeatedly passed over by the Gravegrinners. Demographic and genetic information was analyzed. Finally, one cluster of survivors in the same town all recognized one another from a support group, and that was when everything started to come together. Every single person who had been passed over by the Gravegrinners had watched someone die. Scientists discovered that people who had observed such a traumatic event had an alteration in their brain chemistry, and it seemed that the Gravegrinners could smell it. The research efforts that had been conducted to confirm this theory were truly nightmarish, especially since most of those who had not witnessed death were young. 

Governments started building the sanctuary cities, barricading areas that were centered around survival resources like lakes, or farms, or stockpiles of weapons and supplies. When a sanctuary city was complete, they would post signs urging all survivors to make their way there as soon as possible. The reason was twofold—they wanted to save as many people as possible, and they were hoping to starve the Gravegrinners to death. The various military forces of the world had been working on developing a way to destroy them, but had come up empty-handed. They knew that the monsters didn’t eat animals, plants, or anything except for certain humans though, so the strategy was to centralize their food source and eliminate it through a process they called Markings. 

The first time Cara had heard about a Marking, she had been equally repulsed and impressed. It was an elegantly logical solution to the problem, but it was also a tragedy in and of itself. And the fact that most of those being Marked were children made Cara’s heart hurt. Admittedly, she would rather children were scarred by a Marking than shredded by a Gravegrinner, but some people found the process of being Marked so unsettling that they chose to take their chances instead. 

Suddenly Cara heard footsteps, and was pulled out of her reverie. She looked around but there wasn’t a store or office close enough to duck into. She spotted a car a few paces ahead on the road and jogged over to try the handle. Unlocked. She got in the backseat, locked the doors, and tried to hunch down. It was difficult with the carrier and her backpack on, and she was moving roughly because of fear. She jostled the baby into a crying wakefulness. Cara quickly replaced the pacifier while trying to make soothing sounds. Footsteps weren’t inherently dangerous, but they weren’t inherently safe either. She was far too close to getting her baby to the Marking to start taking risks now. She wanted to check her watch but was too afraid the movement might be seen outside the car. 

As Cara frantically tried to calm her infant, she dared a quick peek out the car window. A woman was walking down the sidewalk, muttering to herself, and carrying an axe. The momentary pause in shushing seemed to upset her baby, who gave a loud wail of dissatisfaction. The woman’s head whipped around and focused on the car. Cara knew when she saw the woman’s eyes that she and her daughter were in danger. The woman smiled with crazed desperation, and marched rapidly toward them. As the woman drew closer, she started to laugh, and lifted the axe above her head. 

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit!” Cara screamed, and gave a desperate thought to the universe that she really needed the keys to be in that car—she couldn’t think of any other way to get her baby to safety. She slipped off her backpack and awkwardly climbed into the front seat, clutching her baby tightly. No keys in the ignition. 

Suddenly Cara heard a crash and felt the car lurch. The woman had swung the axe down onto the rear window. It glanced off, but she brought it back up for another swing. The woman laughed maniacally. “Give me that baby to kill and I’ll let you go! It only takes one to be Marked!” the woman yelled through the car window. She then reared back and brought the axe down on the car again. This time, the axe shattered the glass. The woman cackled at her success, and then started chanting “Kill the baby! Kill the baby! Kill the baby!” as she continued to strike the car.

Cara started to get out of the car, thinking she could run for it, but the woman saw her reach for the door handle and sprinted around to the driver’s side. “Kill the baby!” she bellowed, her anger overtaking her crazed glee. The woman brought the axe up over her head, and with a tremendous smash, broke open the driver’s side window. Cara screamed in terror, and then her baby screamed. Her newly-minted maternal instincts took over, and she remembered the taser in her backpack and frantically reached into the backseat. She found the weapon, aimed it at the woman, and pulled the trigger as the axe plummeted toward her. Two darts flew out from the taser and landed directly on the woman’s chest. The woman immediately began to flail as the electricity struck her, and she dropped the axe and fell to the ground. 

Cara didn’t know how long the woman would be slowed by the shock. She reached down under the seat of the car to see if there was a tire iron or flashlight she could use as a weapon. Her hand hit something jingly and metal. She grabbed the keys, found the one for the car, and stuck it in the ignition. With a turn, the car grumbled to life, and Cara hit the gas. 

Suddenly the car shook. Then shook again. Then again. She recognized the hope-breaking footfall of a Gravegrinner on a visceral level. She slowed to see if she could tell the direction it was coming from. It was in the rearview mirror. The Gravegrinner lumbered toward the woman on the ground and peeled back its rows of teeth into a smile of death. Cara floored the gas and headed toward the sanctuary city as quickly as possible, trying not to listen to the terrifyingly familiar cracking of bone echoing down the street. The woman’s screams soon faded and then were cut off. 

Cara risked a glance at her watch. She had ten minutes to get to the city and run to wherever the Marking was happening inside. She focused on driving, even though her baby was still screaming with a note of terror in her voice that gave Cara chills. 

They rounded a corner, and there it was. Tall metal walls crowned with barbed wire formed an imposing barrier before her. She guessed that the wall was about a half a mile long and about three stories high. Armed guards patrolled, and a formidable artillery was stationed at regular intervals along the walls. Above the wall, she could see the edge of the plastic dome designed to dampen the smell of the Unmarked. She skidded to a halt and jumped out of the car. 

“Help me! I have a baby! I need to get her to the Marking!” 

As she leaned back into the car to grab her backpack, a guard unit jogged over. They surrounded her and escorted her up to the gate, weapons pointed outward. Someone inside opened a small door in the metal wall, and pulled her in. “This way!” he said. They passed through a small airlock and then both broke into an all-out run. Cara clasped her baby’s head to her chest, hoping she wasn’t shaking her too much. They cut around a corner and went down another three blocks to a trailer surrounded by another set of metal walls and a plastic dome. The guards around the trailer saw them running and opened the gate. She practically broke down the airlock door in her hurry and fear. 

Just as they ran through, they heard the stomping of Gravegrinners coming from outside the city. Gunfire erupted from the outer perimeter. “Keep running!” the guard yelled. He reached the door of the trailer and opened it, then turned and pushed Cara and her baby through. He slammed the door shut behind them, and a moment later Cara heard the gate close, slightly muffling more gunfire and an explosion. 

The group assembled in the trailer turned to look at her. She carefully unbuckled the straps of the carrier and pulled her daughter out. “Come, bring her to the front,” a kindly woman said. The woman held her hand to guide her through the large group and helped Cara down to the floor. Cara guessed that there were about forty children in the crowded trailer. They were all gathered together in a tight group facing a chair on the opposite side of the room, where an old woman sat serenely. The younger children were all in the front, so they could see. The sounds of fighting grew louder, and the trailer shook. Some children started to cry, especially the toddlers and babies. Their parents tried to calm them, but looked frightened themselves. 

The old woman in the chair spoke. “How old is your baby? She looks brand new.” The old woman wore a kind smile, and for some reason, that made Cara want to weep more than anything else that had happened that day. 

“She’s about two hours old,” Cara said. 

“Does she have a name?” 

“Not yet. What’s your name?”

“Rose.”

“Then her name is Rose.”

The old woman’s smile was radiant with joy. “Well, then, let’s begin.” 

A guard stepped behind the old woman. “Please be certain you and your children are all looking, even the babies. They may not know what they are watching, and they may not even be able to see it clearly, but as long as they are looking, it should work. Do not close your eyes. Do not look away. Watch until the end. This is the only way we can Mark you as safe.” 

“And don’t cry. Just lead long happy lives, like I have,” the old woman said. 

With that, the guard pulled out a sharp knife. The woman smiled down at her namesake. Parents in the room held their children’s heads so they were staring at the woman, even holding their eyes open so they couldn’t blink. 

One, two, three. Inhale.

Four, five, six. Exhale.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. Inhale.

The guard reached forward and with one deft stroke sliced the old woman’s throat open, releasing a glimmering ruby waterfall of blood from her neck. The room went from silent to deafening as all the children—and some of the parents—started to scream and cry as they all watched her bleed out. As the last light faded from her eyes, the sounds of fighting outside stopped. The Gravegrinners were retreating. The promise of an Unmarked meal had been taken away, and they had no reason to attack the city any longer. 

As everyone started to file out of the trailer, Cara sat still with baby Rose on her lap, staring at the lifeless shell of the woman who had saved her child. The woman had reminded her of her grandma, who had been the one to Mark her safe from the Gravegrinners. Cara thought back to that terrible day when she’d gone to her grandma’s house after school to watch TV and eat ice cream while her mom was at work, and instead had held her grandmother’s hand as she died from a sudden stroke on her way back from the kitchen with the bowls. Cara knew that, unlike her grandma, Rose had chosen to die. She did it in order to save children like Cara’s. But as she looked into the flat eyes of the lifeless woman, Cara was overwhelmed with grief instead of gratitude.