Marcus

"Jacob!" Marcus bellowed, wishing it would cut through the woods, looming as if taunting him in a dizzying sway. Marcus tried to ignore the vomit bubbling up his throat, his pulse quickening as if they would burst. "Jacob! Where are you?"

Part of him hoped, at least for a quick moment, that he'd find his son huddled behind some thicket or underneath some felled wood, unharmed but shaken. Though, wherever he looked, Jacob wasn't there. He could hear the others shouting Jacob's name from all sides, searching frantically like he was, swamped by cries of cacophonous frustration that lingered well into the afternoon, but no familiar voice to answer its call. The urge to get down on his knees and gave up was strong, but the image of Claire holding Jacob for the first time took hold—his first breath, his first cry, his first laugh—drove him forward past the firs, ferns, and spruce, past the sweat and the cold sticking to his skin.

"Sun is almost out," Roylan hollered behind, catching up, out of breath. He placed a hand on Marcus's shoulder, halting him in his tracks. "Hold on a sec. I need to tell you something."

"Is it about Jacob?"

Roylan frowned. "No."

"Then, keep moving."

Roylan shook his head, sighing deeply. "I'm saying, the sun's almost out, Marcus. We didn't bring our flashlights with us. We might have to go back to camp if we continue into the night—"

"No," Marcus growled, shoving Roylan's hand off, ignoring the slight frown the other man-made.

Another day lost would be another day for Jacob's kidnappers to put more distance between themselves and him. It was Paul who first came across the signs of a struggle near the river, and though the discovery of finding a fresh body of water near the camp should solve their water shortage, Jacob's disappearance took the highest priority. They didn't find a body there, which meant someone took Jacob, hopefully still alive. Marcus trudged deeper into the woods.

"Son, we will be wading through the woods blind, and we won't be able to find Jacob that way. We are making too much of a ruckus already. Who knows what kind of attention we aroused? We don't know these parts of the woods."

"Then, go. I'll stay," Marcus said, annoyed. "If we go back, we lose ground. I can't keep the search off for another day. You know what happens if we do that."

"Are you crazy? I am not leaving you here in the dark. You have two children to take care of."

"Three," Marcus hissed, his chest turning up in knots. "I have three."

"I'm just going to say it—"

"Then don't," Marcus hissed.

"—But have you ever considered—"

"He's not dead!" Marcus snapped. "You're a father, Roylan, like me. He's alive. I can feel it. If Paul or one of your grandchildren are missing, you'd know."

"I know, son. I know."

"Good. We keep moving. I don't want to waste the light. If we have it, we have it, okay?"

"And if we lose it?"

Marcus closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He didn't answer Roylan's question. He had lost track of where they were, but he was sure that they were miles off from their camp, but he could feel him inching closer to Jacob. He tried not to delve deeper, that he might have been imagining it, but the pull was all he had. They had headed east toward the mountains where they heard the first of the explosions earlier in the morning, like an avalanche rolling from the hills had swept the woods away.

There was no sign of an avalanche.

It had been seven hours since Marcus realized Jacob went missing, seven hours since the whole camp heard the explosions resounding beyond the woods, seven hours since Marcus grabbed hold of his shotgun and ran straight into the path, straight to the roaring noise, expecting to find Jacob's body. So far, he hadn't seen it or any signs of blood, and Marcus took that as a good sign. But for how long?

No body.

No Blood.

Marcus pressed on forward, wallowing over the mantra-like prayer.

Roylan approached one of the trees, took out the large dagger, one of Andy's collection, and carved an X on the bark; A marker for their way back.

"Alright," Roylan started, "another hour, maybe. But I'm calling it off with the others. I can't keep the camp unprotected."

Marcus nodded. There was no point in arguing with it, though a small part still hoped they would be able to uncover fresh tracks, and hopefully, his son himself. "When it gets dark, we go back," he finally said.

Roylan managed a smile, partly relieved that he had agreed, but if given a chance, Marcus was determined to stalk into the dark looking for Jacob, desperate to find two more pairs of footprints from the strangers that took him.

The world seemed to expand once again, and Marcus wasn't sure if he liked it, with every path making newer ones, and on and on it went until his knees buckled and his breath had run off him. The abruptness of how the day began and how it soon would slip into the night was like a dangerous storm in a dream, pounded and pried right to the bone until it felt like he would never wake up.

Marcus couldn't stop looking, wild in a sliver of anger, beyond reasons that he could not articulate clearly. It was as if he was driven in some primal paternal instinct, kicking him forward as a rider in peril would beat on a horse to some distant civilization, aware of gravity pulling him down to the core the harder he pulled, the harder he reigned.

Back in the dark of the city, Marcus had promised to himself, to Claire, that he would protect the boys at all cost, just as she would do the same for the girls, wherever they were. He had spent so many months and years away from them, wrenched out into the farthest reaches of civilization, where blood met the sands, and chaos was neither the beginning nor the end. He had promised himself that this time, it would be different. That this time, he would live as a common man would, pretending that the past was a distant chapter, long-buried in his memories. Now, Jacob was missing, and he couldn't help but feel a total failure as a father and as a husband.

Drenched in sweat after hours of searching, he ferociously shouted Jacob's name one more time, some untapped frustration bursting out of the seams, glaring into the brooding woods, yearning to once again see his son. If he could only see his face, just for a split second, would be enough to quiet the steady ache coiling in his chest. He was furious, desperate, livid, miserable, pessimistic, and hopeful all at the same time, conglomerating inside him like some viscous blob sticking in the insides of his flesh, unable to pry or scratch it away, for it to stop hurting so much.

The sun went down beyond the mountains as they narrowed the trail back to camp, and Marcus was still adamant at continuing forward, even in the company of the dark. Yet a voice inside his head, the one that kept him alive all those months surrounded by rebels and insurgents, huddled inside a cramped outpost with twenty other men, prod him toward the opposite. If he had any chance of finding Jacob, he needed sleep, and his supplies were quickly dwindling the farther he went on and knew that he couldn't keep up with what he had.

Over the radio, the others reported that they didn't uncover more tracks, and Roylan ordered them to come back to camp. Strained voices echoed their agreement from the other line, and a sliver of him wished he'd find at least a couple of them willing to join him well into the night. But he knew most of them feared the woods. Marcus did, too.

"We'll find him, Marcus," Roylan tried to reassure him. "Don't lose hope."

The sentiment was nice but felt hollow. Marcus doubted if he was frank, but he had lived long enough to know that hopes and dreams were sometimes farther from reality, no matter how unyielding one's spirit might be. But Marcus still held on to it as any man would, hoping with all the strength he could muster as if his life depended on it.

[Marcus Ward]

[Order: The Warrior]

[Skill Obtained - Long Distance]

[Skill Obtained - Natural Instinct]

[Skill Obtained - Out of Sight]

They looked useful, Marcus thought, if only I know how they fucking work.

Marcus closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly.

On the second day, Marcus spared no minute marching back into the woods on the first signs of light, packed with all the necessities he needed for a long day's hike. They went in groups of three, each with two men in the party: Paul and his son, Noah, had taken the southwest following the river; Kenny and Hyun to the northeast; and Marcus and Roylan took off toward the eastern mountains.

The task was simple: mark the trees by carving an X so that everyone would know where they went and where they had finished searching an area of the forest. It had to be inconspicuous, of course, hidden from sight just in case something else stumbled upon it by accident and followed it back to their camp.

The day remained the same as before, bouts of hope dashed by reality, drenched in sweat wading through the thick woods, and battling the cold even though the temperature slowly continued to climb as the days went past. At least there was some good news coming out of the week. However, they didn't find Jacob or any signs of fresh tracks, and the same as yesterday, trudged back to the camp as the sun went down.

The camp had moved to a small cave a couple of miles south from the original camp and was closer to the river. It had a deep enough cavern to protect everyone from the weather, and from the other predators, the previous grounds too wide open for any attacks from the native wild. As much as Marcus hated to think about it, whatever took Jacob could return and take more of them. Despite the cave's protective walls, it didn't shield him from the barrage of nightmares, of Jacob laying on the field, eyes glazed open to the two moons above.

The third and fourth day remained the same as before, with the frequent bouts of dashed hope that now lingered a false sense of the notion that what they might be looking for was a dead body. Generally, in search operations like these, the first seventy-two hours were crucial, but after that, the chances that his son was still alive plummeted to the single digits.

Marcus tried not to delve deeper as the hours ticked by, refusing to believe that Jacob was gone. The pull was still there, that fatherly connection he desperately held on to, wanting it to be true, wanting it to be firm and take root, wanting to see him one more time.

However, when night came, when Marcus closed his eyes, Jacob was there, hanging at the end of a rope.

Many times he had refused Connor's and Eli's help. They wanted to join the search party, fearing the same things that he had, but he had successfully reigned them back with the help of Easton and Andy, at a cost that his children hated him for pushing them back. He liked to believe it was only temporary, that their hatred of him for not finding their brother in time would subside, that they would soon understand as time went by that he fought hard to find him, although he dreaded the day he had to tell them that Jacob might be gone for good. Maybe like their mother, like their sisters, like the city of San Francisco itself.

Marcus shook the grim thoughts away. It wouldn't end that way. Not this time. He couldn't risk bringing Connor and Eli with him. If they encountered something deadly in the woods, he knew he wouldn't forgive himself if something terrible happened to them, and he was the one who made it a reality. As much as it hurt to admit it, he didn't want to lose another child.

On the fifth and sixth day, Marcus and Roylan had brought their own sleeping bags and gear for a two-day, nonstop hike. Kenny and Hyun would do the same in the opposite direction, but Roylan told Paul and his grandson to stay behind. Marcus understood what Roylan did. The man didn't also want to lose his family to the woods.

The next couple of days felt like the last hurrah, the final push to find Jacob before they called off the search altogether, and with every path they carved, a mirthless void grew stronger inside him that his son was never going to be found, forever lost to this strange world. They had ventured too far to go back to camp in time, so they made their encampment in the dark of the woods. They built a fire upon the hills close to the mountains—Marcus taking the first watch and Roylan with the last.

"Makes you wonder," Roylan started after they finished a slab of dried jerky and a can of BBQ beans, "What do you think we'll find if we get to your son?"

"Still alive, I hope," replied Marcus. "He's a strong kid. Quiet, but strong."

"Hm. Besides that—the people that took him. What do you think they want?"

For that, Marcus was at a loss. He didn't answer Roylan's question, but his silence told the other man everything he needed to know. But one thing was clear: he'd make sure to ask them once he put a bullet to their head. Imagining all the ways he could hurt them for taking his son lulled him to sleep.

They returned to camp on the seventh day, only to find the same old things from everyone's report: Jacob was still missing, the tracks were long gone, and the days grew desperate with their dwindling supplies.

"Kenny and Hyun won't be planning to come back until tomorrow morning. They told me over the radio," Paul said. He and his son were closer to their location more than Marcus and Roylan. The CB radio they were using could only manage a 7-mile radius.

"Anything else?" Marcus asked.

"Says there are some interesting tracks down south. Probably the reason why they're staying down there a little longer."

"Could be the giants?" Easton suggested.

Paul shrugged. "Didn't say. Although they would've told me if they were. Since the path, we never reencountered them. Not a sound, not a squeak."

"Well, at least there's some good news," Andy said. "The farther away they are, the better."

"So, what's the call?" Roylan asked Marcus. "I mean, we just got here, and my feet are killing me."

It was tempting to venture back out into the woods, maybe follow up on Kenny and Hyun's trail, and assisted them with the thing they found. It sounded interesting, but it could also be nothing. Marcus didn't think he could take another day with his heart squashed like that. Still, it was tempting.

He caught a glimpse of Connor and Eli sitting close to the fire, keeping themselves warm. He swore he saw Connor quickly look away when their eyes met. Marcus frowned. He realized he had been ignoring them the past week with no word or reassurance of Jacob's well-being. He wasn't sure if there was much to say on that matter. At the corner of his eye, Easton studied him, his expression practically begging him to say what all of them wanted to hear.

Stay.

"Let's rest up a bit, wait for the two to come back tomorrow," Marcus said, "I wanna hear what they have to say before we move out."

If Roylan was relieved of the news, the old man didn't show it, slowly nodded his head, and trudged back to the camp. He sat down on one of the logs and let out a heavy sigh, stretching out, letting his bones cracked.

"Tomorrow it is then," Roylan said.

Though, when morning came, Kenny and Hyun didn't come back.