Marked

Chapter Nine

After having some tea, Charles seemed to have calmed down; at least he wasn't shaking and laughing like a maniac anymore. They sat gathered around his table where he placed a hot cup of tea in front of each of them and a plate full of cookies.

He sat down on top of the table once more and crossed his legs. "Do you laddys even know how the mark works?"

The four looked at one another.

No one in the compound had really known anything about the mark except that it made you not exactly human anymore. Sung was the only one that had had experience with it but his medical terms were hard to follow. Besides knowing that it altered a part of your brain, the Mark was a big gray zone of unknown to the compounders.

"No, not really." Hector replied for them. His fingers were wrapped tightly around his mug and his hair brushed his forehead. 

"Welp, it's very simple really," Charles popped a cookie into his mouth. When he opened his mouth again, crumbs spluttered out after every word. "First they tattoo ya." He tapped his forehead. "They put it right here."

"Why?" Juan asked.

"Simple laddy. They use it to identify and monitor you but here's where it gets real interesting..." The old man took his time drinking his tea and after he set his cup down he rubbed at his overly-grown beard with more patience than Rachel had ever seen anyone have before.

"Would you get on with it, old man?" Juan snapped.

Charles grunted and spat a mouthful of tea at Juan. Blobs clung to his shirt as he sprang up from his chair, all red-faced and with a murderous expression in his eyes. Juan took an intimidating step forward but Hector stood, grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed him back into his seat.

"We need him." He gritted to Juan.

"Well, ya want to know what happens or don't ya?"Rachel detected a hint of humor in Charles' voice.

She suspected the old man was getting a good kick out of this.

"Go on," Simone encouraged.

Charles dropped his voice to a near whisper and they found themselves leaning close in order to hear him. "Then they put a chip in your wrist. They inject that sucker into yer skin and let it fester there. That little bugger is what lets ya get food and clothes and all the stuff them privileged fools have."

"But that still doesn't explain why they act the way they do," Rachel whispered.

"Well pretty lady, why don't ya shut yer mouth and let me finish?"

Rachel scowled but otherwise kept silent.

"Then they insert something else into yer noggin. They put in a liquid into the part of yer brain that somehow erases all the good crap inside you like compassion and empathy."

"So they turn you into a machine with no emotions." Hector stated.

"Not exactly laddy. The parts of yer brain that control cognitive functions, basic emotions and all that other useless crap still be working."

"But they don't know any better, then," Rachel blurted the words without thinking and then thought that maybe she shouldn't have said anything- it wasn't likely the others would feel any compassion for the people that had just murdered their families.

And you shouldn't either, her mind told her.

"They are cold blooded killers, Rachel," Hector was looking at her straight in the eye, stern but not exactly angry. "It doesn't matter that they can't feel compassion. That doesn't make them innocent."

"Doesn't matter what they are." Charles harrumphed. "Either way I ain't helping y'alls fulfill your death wishes."