Forgotten Sins

Prologue

Southern Tennessee Hills

Twenty Years Ago

Shane settled against the cold block wall, engrossed in the television set across the room but forcing himself periodically to glance outside the darkened window. The second dawn hit, he and his brothers had to flee the computer center. Their current transgression was punishable by beating or confinement. Probably both.

But a night spent watching a marathon of the show featuring a family living in the city was well worth the risk and provided an insight into a world he had only dreamed about. Breaking into the private room housing the television had been almost too easy. It surprised him the soldiers taught them stealth and surveillance but didn’t expect them to use the skills.

A boom sounded in the distance—probably from a coal mine hours away. Just to double-check, he lifted his head and used his special hearing to make sure they were safe. A wolf prowled a mile or so away, and prey scattered. No humans breathed nearby. Well, none other than his three brothers while they watched the show. The eighth episode wound down to cheerful music and a happy ending.

“What’s a family?” Jory, his youngest brother, asked.

Shane forced a shrug. “I think a family is people who live together.”

“So we’re family?” Jory’s voice cracked.

Shane nodded, his shoulders straightening. “Yeah, we’re family.”

“What’s a mom?” Jory scratched his head.

“I guess it’s that lady there.” Shane pointed at the woman on the screen.

“She looks…” Matt, the oldest of them all, said thoughtfully, “soft.”

They all nodded.

“How come we don’t have moms or ladies here?” Jory asked.

Shane shrugged again. He probably didn’t deserve a mom, but Jory did. Why didn’t Jory get a mom? “Maybe soldiers don’t get moms.”

“Oh.” Jory turned back to the screen. “She looks nice.”

Yeah. The soft lady had looked nice.

Nathan jumped up. “It’s time to go—sun’s out.” As the second oldest, Nathan usually kept a close eye on Jory and Shane, while Matt spent his time training them to survive.

Shane stood and reached down to help Jory up.

He yanked back. “I want to stay.”

“Now, Jory.” Matt slid the door open a sliver to peer outside. “They’re already starting hand-to-hand.”

Jory stood and brushed off his pants. “Fine.”

“Follow me, and don’t look guilty.” Matt headed into the chilly dawn, followed by Nathan.

Shane waited until Jory was clear before shutting the door and hustling over to train with Nathan. All around them, boys engaged in mock-fighting. His brother kicked him in the stomach, and he allowed the pain to disappear before punching Nate in the jaw.

The sun angled through the trees when Commander Phillips strode onto the practice area followed by two soldiers who pulled behind them a short, dirty man. Grease and debris littered the man’s long dark hair and beard. The prisoner’s hands were bound behind his back, and he furiously begged in a language Shane hadn’t learned yet. The man’s bare feet dragged in the dirt, leaving clear tracks. His blood made a swishing sound as it shot through his veins too quickly. Lung tissue crackled as his breath panted out.

Terror had a sound.

“Soldiers.” The commander called them to attention.

They quickly moved into formation. The commander was straight and sure, his hair cut in a short buzz. His eyes were a deep, dark black. Shane always tried to concentrate on something else when facing the commander, sure that getting lost in those black depths would mean death. He knew it somehow.

He and the other boys watched impassively as a soldier forced the prisoner to his knees.

“You’ve been studying anatomy and pressure points for a month now,” the commander said. “Today we concentrate on the swiftest and most economical way to break someone’s neck.”

The live demonstrations always made Shane’s head pound. Did the prisoner know he was about to die? Probably. Shane steeled his spine just in case it was his turn. Please don’t let it be his turn.

The commander paused and then called out, “Cadet Shane.”

As Shane moved forward to stand by the prisoner, Matt began to shift from his place in formation, reaching for the knife sheathed at his calf. Shane subtly shook his head. Even if Matt somehow stabbed the commander so they could run, they didn’t have anywhere to go. The commander would always find them.

Matt stood down, his entire body tense. As the oldest of the brothers, he considered it his duty to protect them somehow. Their identical gray eyes met, Matt’s hot and desperate. Shane tried to shrug, but his shoulders shook instead. His gut hurt.

Hopefully he wouldn’t lose his mind for a few days like Matt had when it had been his turn. Shane understood this was another part of his training—he was old enough to kill now.

He had just turned ten.