Mercy Rising: The Prophecy Read online

  “Mine’s only superficial,” she whispered to Tucker.

  Her brother stifled a chuckle as their dad eyed them. While her dad droned on about the reality of risk and why they trained, Mercy let her thoughts drift to other things, namely a certain pair of eyes.

  “Dismissed.” Her dad’s command brought her back to the present as everyone mingled or walked back to their dwellings. “Tucker. Mercy. With me.”

  Mercy caught Tucker’s eyes while they walked behind their dad. Her mom came alongside them, a soft smile on her still youthful face.

  “Hey, Mom,” Mercy said.

  Her mom handed her and Tuck each a strip of jerky. “Nice work out there, Sweet Girl. I counted five?”

  “Yep,” Mercy said with a smile before ripping off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

  “And you got your little sister again?” Their mom nudged into Tucker.

  “Somebody has to teach her some humility.”

  Mercy rolled her eyes. “You just wait, Bubba. I’m going to get you one of these days.”

  “I know,” he muttered.

  A heaviness returned in her. She knew that tone, and she didn’t want to go there.

  “You two never cease to amaze me, you know that?” Their mom kissed them both on their cheeks, having to raise on her tiptoes to reach Tucker’s but only slightly leaning up to reach hers. “Dinner with us tonight?”

  “Sure,” Mercy said, happy to have her mom’s cooking over her own or Tucker’s.

  Once they turned eighteen, the new adults often moved into a separate dwelling than their parents. Many of them shared with friends until they matched...if they were. When Tucker had first left to share a dwelling with Ryan, Mercy had felt his loss.

  Though it was unusual for females and males to share a dwelling unless they were matched, she had moved in with her brother and Ryan the day of her eighteenth birthday. She loved having a separate dwelling and sharing it with her brother. Since Ryan and Olivia had matched, it was only the two of them.

  “Sounds wonderful, Mom. Thank you.” Tucker glanced at their dad several feet in front of them. “Any idea what this is about?”

  Their mom shrugged. “You know your dad.” She waved as she left them to return to her dwelling.

  Mercy knew where their dad led them—their favorite lookout. The scramble up to the granite rock overlooking the ravine took her mind off the drill and everything else. A good climb was like that, probably why she preferred to be doing something rather than nothing.

  Once they sat, their dad looked out over the community going about their business as dusk settled in the ravine.

  “You know how blessed we are to be here, sheltered from the chaos filling the rest of the world?”

  “You say that all the time, Dad, but how do you really know there is chaos? What if things returned to the World Before? How would we know?” Mercy demanded.

  “Oh, Sweet Girl, I have always appreciated how you speak your mind.” Her dad chuckled. “I guess we don’t know for sure, but experience tells me that the world out there is still as rough and evil as it was nineteen years ago. We disappeared for a reason.”

  “But don’t you ever wonder?” she asked.

  “I don’t,” Tucker mumbled. “It’s corrupt.”

  “What does that even mean? I am sure those people are doing what they need to survive, just like us.” Mercy rolled her eyes, and they called her pessimistic.

  “The difference is, they will go farther to do so. Look out there. Watch our fellow community members. See how we work together in respect for one another, and with respect for the earth we have been given to care for?”

  “Not everyone is respectful,” Mercy muttered, for once wishing she could keep her mouth shut.

  “I’m assuming you mean Darius.” Her dad eyed her. “He looked a little worse for wear, and I saw your mark on him.”

  “He deserved worse,” Tucker growled.

  Her dad touched her cheek, making her look at him. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “No.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I took care of it.”

  Her dad read her gaze for a moment longer and nodded. “I was glad to see so many green marks tonight. The community needs leaders they can look up to.”

  “We have leaders.” Mercy watched him closer, wanting to ignore that he had more gray than dark hair, that the lines around his eyes and mouth looked deeper, that he moved slower.

  “And Tyler is training to follow you and Arland,” Tucker murmured.

  “Tyler will be an excellent leader when the time comes, but every leader needs a second. I have Arland, and Arland has me. It hasn’t been easy, but between the two of us, our community has thrived.”

  Mercy agreed. She might complain about all the training and drills and classes, but she had never wanted for anything. Their bellies had always been full, even in the lean winters. They had been safe, healthy, and happy. Why did he have to ruin that with the talk of change?

  “Tucker can do it,” Mercy said. No way would she lead anyone, especially not with the way the guys looked at her now.

  “We have bigger things to worry about than the future leaders of this community,” Tucker said, not meeting their eyes.

  “What kind of cryptic message is that?” Mercy asked him.

  He turned to her then, held her gaze for several moments. “We need you to be ready. Change is coming.”

  Tucker stood up and walked away from them. It took several moments of watching Tucker disappear through the granite boulders before her dad spoke.

  “You know your brother loves you.”

  “I do,” she sighed.

  “The more I watch you grow into the young woman you are, the more I believe what he has prophesied.”

  Mercy turned to him, her heart in her throat, a vibration starting deep within her.

  “You’re going to save us all.” Her dad kissed the top of her head, stood, and looked down at her. “I’m proud of you, Sweet Girl.”

  Mercy sat stunned as she watched him disappear, too. Her, save them all? What kind of messed up pressure was that?

  CHAPTER ONE

  >>>—MERCY—<<<

  Taking a life marks your soul forever.

  Mercy crouched behind a stand of manzanita. The red-barked brush hid her well, disguising her scent and her form. Her prey lifted his head as a squirrel skittered past her and up the adjacent tree, yet the large eyes hadn’t moved from the oval-leaved bush she froze behind.

  Closing her eyes, Mercy felt the creature’s wariness. Her heart ached. Taking a life, whether small or large, known or unknown, tore her at her core.

  And her brother thought her a superhero. Some warrior she was, shying from a kill that could feed her people for almost a week.

  The pain lancing her heart almost made her turn away from her directive. Her village needed the meat. She steeled herself, turning her eyes back to the creature returning to munch on the acorns hidden under the fallen leaves. His ears twitched, warily listening to the common sounds of the forest.

  The world teemed with life, and life gave life. This young buck would feed her entire village. His thick-furred hide would make clothes to keep them warm with winter coming on. The sinew now holding his muscles, allowing him to move in such grace and beauty, would string bows like the one she currently pulled back toward her jawline.

  For the moment, Mercy held her breath, locked the emotions deep within her, and focused on the task at hand. Only her brother beat her marksmanship. She knew how to make an arrow fly toward her target to bring a quick death—a death that would give life.

  She connected with the soft, quick pulsing coming from within the deer, staring down the obsidian tip lining up with the creature’s heart. Her muscles strained, but she could hold the draw as long as needed to be certain her aim was true. Drawing in her breath, only her fingertips moved, releasing the arrow to soar along with her gratitude.

  Mercy closed her eyes as her hand slowl
y dropped to her side. The startled creature’s shock hit her in a wave before she heard the heavy thump signaling its fall. She lowered her head in reverence, silently thanking the Creator and the young buck for giving its life.

  Warm tears slipped down her cheeks as she rose to a full stand, her eyes opening to find the buck fallen and still. Her moccasins made no noise as she snuck across the carpet of pine needles to her kill. Such a beautiful creature, even in death. Mercy swept her hand down the soft fur, feeling the warmth slowly leave the corpse.

  “Thank you.” Her voice quivered with emotion. Yes, taking a life marked your soul forever.

  She bowed her head in gratitude and reverence again, slowing her racing heart and relaxing into the peace of where the deer journeyed. She didn’t know if animals had souls, but looking into their eyes, feeling the emptiness within after she had taken their life, she had her suspicions. Did they return to the Creator as people did?

  Mercy pushed the hood off her head. Her flaming-red hair blew in the breeze. She let the cooling wind sweep the constant questions away as she stilled. A soft, pulsing echoed in her ears, shocking her eyes open to inspect the deer closer. Yet, the sound didn’t emanate from the creature at her feet. The thrumming was too deep, too steady and slow.

  She glanced around at the trees and brush surrounding her. The birdsong filled the air once more. Squirrels chattered in the pine to her right, and a scurrying rodent disturbed the earth to her left. The pulsing heartbeat came not from her surroundings, but from inside of her.

  Plopping onto her rear, she let her bow drop into her lap. She knew that sound. No matter how many times she tried to stop it from coming, it came, a heartbeat not her own.

  The call became stronger every day, but she didn’t want it. Long-standing embers sparked to life within her, urging her to action rather than silent acceptance. She rose with such speed that the birds stormed away and the squirrels’ chatter silenced. Sitting around would never stop it. Slipping her bow over her head and shoulder, she scanned the trees around her for the perfect travois poles. Finding them, she pulled the serrated knife from the sheath on her thigh and went to work sawing the saplings.

  The air filled with the spicy scent of cedar. She focused on the scent, the feeling of her muscles bunching and stretching, and the sweat that beaded on her forehead from the effort despite the chill of the autumn day. When she had stripped both poles of branches and laid them side by side, she took off her bow and her pack. Pulling out a long, thin leather strand, she set to work making a hammock of sorts between the poles.

  Tugging the deer that weighed as much as a man onto the hammock was another feat. It took her twice the time it would take her brother, but after several minutes of struggling, she wiped the sweat from her brow and tied on her contribution to her people.

  Zion. She glanced up toward her home hidden in a canyon undetectable from the outside. Her brother had found it nearly eighteen years ago, a haven from the chaos her father said had taken over the World Before.

  As she pulled the heavily laden travois behind her, Mercy’s mind traveled to what she knew of the World Before. She couldn’t help being fascinated by the idea of living in a village teeming with people. A shiver coursed through her. The idea of living with so many people made her head hurt and her heart thunder at the mere the thought. How would she ever find peace?

  Yet, the thought of having light with the flick of her finger, a warmth that came from the walls of her house, water that ran on demand...and hot water falling on you like her mother spoke of as she closed her eyes and savored the memory...that part of the World Before enthralled her.

  Mercy bristled at the memory of Tucker telling her all of that fascinating way of life wasn’t worth it. The intensity of the emotion behind his words almost stopped her intrigue with the World Before, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop tugging at her. She stopped at a rise, looking over the distance to the southwest...the land of the dreaded cities.

  Nothing but forest stretched before her. Even on the clear days, from the highest point of the cliffs that walled in Zion, she couldn’t see any trace of the fabled city. Eventually, the ever green forest gave way to trees now dotting the rolling hills with yellow. One hill stood taller than the rest. Her dad told her that there, next to that tallest hill, the cities lay in ruin and chaos—a place forbidden for any member of Zion to travel.

  Her eyes unfocused as she stared in the direction she knew that hill lay and her heart tugged. She didn’t want to disobey her father, yet something pulled her toward the forbidden land of destruction—something or someone that pulsed within her.

  Mercy flicked her hair back and tied it out of her face with a short piece of leather. At moments like these, she often thought of Noel. Noel recently cut her hair short. With her curly locks now hanging just under her chin, Noel’s hair seemed manageable and efficient. Mercy pulled a handful of her long, red strands out to examine how the sun reflected off it like golden strawberries.

  Secretly, she loved her hair. Efficient or not, she could never bring herself to cut it.

  The autumn sun pulsed down, warming her through her leather cloak, another prized possession. The green that dyed the soft leather must have taken her mother hours to create and pound into the soft garment that hung to her knees. Thinking of the sun, she closed her eyes and felt the rays soak into her face.

  How could such a wondrous resource like the sun have caused the World Before to destruct? Not that the sun harmed the earth, but it took out the technology the people had relied on.

  She picked up the travois poles once more, giving a huge heave to get the burden into motion. If the sun hadn’t ruined most...what’s the word...cars, she would have a motor and wheels to pull this carcass rather than her blistering hands. Gripping the poles tighter, she maneuvered the package around a rough rocky patch.

  Only another mile or so until the lookout sentry would see her. Hopefully, Tucker or Ethan were on duty. They would send help to carry the travois through the entrance maze. The others might not, especially Darius. Since she had almost broken his wrist and sprained his knee after his unscrupulous attack last spring, he had been doing everything under the sun to make her life difficult. Well, at least anything that he could get away with without it coming back on him.

  With no one to help, she would have to drag the travois through the maze, an arduous task with the enormous granite boulders that hid the tight passageway. Then return to erase any sign of her going that way. Even though they hadn’t seen evidence of other human activity in years, one slip up, and one person could destroy the safety of their sanctuary.

  As she drew closer and her hands rebelled at any further abuse, she saw the man on the lookout. The figure shaded his eyes in her direction and then slowly, almost shyly, lifted a hand in greeting. Ethan. A sigh wafted through Mercy, giving her enough drive to push through until someone could meet her.

  A soft echo let her know Ethan had alerted the camp of her approach. Only a few hundred more yards and she’d be home. They would greet her arrival with cheers, as they did for every successful hunter. The attention made her want to hide, yet it always filled her heart with pride, knowing that she could bring food and contentment to her people.

  A smile spread across her lips without thought as her brother jogged confidently toward her. His sandy hair had darkened almost to the shade their father’s had been before the gray invaded. In fact, if someone didn’t know to look for little nuances like the little hop in his step, or the way his head slightly cocked to the right, he could easily be mistaken for their dad—the Survivalist.

  “Another score for Mercy the Great,” Tucker said easily as he approached her, his breath still coming without effort.

  “Just doing my part, as everyone does.” Her eyes caught movement from the passageway behind her brother. She scowled as Darius and Charlie strode from the boulders. “Well, almost everyone.”

  Tucker glanced behind him. “Some of us have more responsibility tha
n others. Leaders in training have to contribute more.” He kept his voice soft, so it didn’t travel beyond them.

  “I’m no leader, Seer.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now are you going to help me with this meat or leave me in the slimy hands of those almost here?”

  Tucker bristled. She knew that would get him moving, knew that he hated that Mercy forbade him to seek retaliation against Darius. Her brother liked everyone, and everyone liked him, but she could see his muscles bunching every time Darius came near her.

  Mercy knew she should feel grateful that her brother protected her, but it burned and tweaked in her chest. Did Tucker not think she could take care of herself? With all his talk about her and her part in saving them from some unseen disaster, he sure didn’t show his belief in her very well.

  She would protect herself from the leering Darius and anyone else that tried something similar. She had no doubt about that. Of course, once she chose a mate, that threat would end. A fact that she could never forget. When she had turned twenty a few months before, everyone made a big deal about it, like it was something to look forward to.

  Less than a year before Choosing Day… A soft thumping resounded within her, igniting a crazy hope that they wouldn’t force her to choose a man she had grown up with. Each one was like a brother...even the detestable guys.

  She shook her head as she picked up one pole of the travois. Tucker held the other one, his head cocked as he watched her.

  “Stop trying to read my mind, Bubba.”

  “I don’t have to read it, Little Sis. I already know it.” He nodded before leading them toward the hidden entrance into the land her mom called Shangri-La.

  >>>—ORION—<<<

  The young man’s breath came in gasps as he launched himself over the rooftop, landing in a dive roll, and was back on his feet with no loss of momentum. The crumbling concrete made the roof of the library rough, but he barely felt what would turn into minor bruises. He slid behind the ancient air conditioner that hadn’t worked pretty much his entire life and peered out the way he had come.