To his relief Rachel wasn't there when he got home, in fact the cabin was dark and cold. Apparently Rachel hadn't been home since she left last night. This bothered him but he had to let it go before it drove him insane. Maybe Rachel just reminded him of someone he used to know; maybe he's just very attracted to her and is making up an unknown relationship to justify it. He shrugged…it wasn't worth stressing over, either way there was no way he could compete with Michael so he should just get over her. He lit the fire just before sitting down to remove his heavy work boots. He studied them regular laced black boots nondescript really, they resembled something a soldier or police officer might wear. His clothes too, pretty simple jeans and heavy flannel shirts he wore during the day along with a brown canvas coat lined with fleece a black stocking cap and leather gloves. His night wear consisted of flannel lounge pants and long-sleeved shirts. Everyone tended to wear the same style clothing. These items must be massed produced, warm and sturdy.
He didn't want to sit in the cabin alone so he ventured to the community center. Dinner was just about to start several people waited in line Thomas saw Rachel and Michael sitting together on a couch tucked into a shadowy corner of the massive room. They sat their bodies touching Michael smiled at her as she talked. He seemed very attentive to her. Rachel's laughter floated to his ears, Thomas tensed.
"…tonight" He heard Michael say as they walked out of the community center.
He watched them walk away, Rachel's pinkie finger hooked to his index finger. That little display of affection angered him. No matter how much he tried to rationalize this in his mind he always ended with the same conclusion. Rachel wasn't supposed to be with Michael, it was just wrong.
Rachel was cooking while Minho chatted amiably at her when Thomas returned no sign of Michael anywhere. He stormed into the main room plopping down at the table. Rachel didn't even bother to look at him. Minho cocked his eyebrow but didn't say anything.
"What for dinner?" He asked attempting to hide his annoyance.
Rachel's back shot straight up her shoulders stiff she turned on her heels with a look of disgust planted firmly on her face. Minho looked between the two wondering, in macabre delight, when the blood was going to start flowing. Dinner and a show right up his ally. Rachel seemed to come to some conclusion relaxed her shoulders as she turned back around.
"Ham steak, green beans and rice," She stated plainly.
"I don't like green beans," Thomas grumbled.
"Then don't eat them," Rachel grumbled back.
Thomas rolled his eyes before turning to Minho, "You like your job?"
"Yeah sure, for now. No need for anyone to run all day long. You?"
"No, but its better than fighting off grievers," Thomas scowled at Rachel's back as she stiffened again. Thomas cocked an eyebrow.
He'd finally had enough, for nearly a week she'd been plaguing him and it was getting on his nerves. He wanted to get to the bottom of this so he could maybe get on with his life.
"Rachel," He asked firmly.
"Yes," She replied without turning around.
"Do we know each other? Because you are sending out some seriously negative vibes my way and you look very familiar to me."
Rachel looked up at him finally she studied him for a moment. "I was once part of WICKED."
"I don't remember any girls…well one, but you're not her." Thomas said.
"That wouldn't surprise me," Rachel commented easily. "I wasn't what you would call appropriate for a man of your caliber. But don't worry, I got over you."
"Sure a shank doesn't seem like you did!"
"Rejection by you leaves some pretty nasty scars. Ask the other girls you were leading around by their tongues. By the way, I wasn't one of them." Rachel pointed her fork at him. "All I wanted was a chance to prove myself, thank you very much."
Thomas thought hard for a minute, nothing she was saying seemed right to him. Thomas only remembered Teresa but Brenda she sure as shank remembered him, he vaguely remembers Rachel and she clearly remembers him. Minho watched them argue with amused interest, Rachel was armed but Thomas didn't seem to notice or care.
"If you are over…whatever, and weren't interested to begin with then why do you hate me?"
Rachel gave a gently condescending laugh. "Silly Thomas, I don't hate you." She smiled at him. "I just don't give a single damn about you. There is a difference."
Minho looked back at Thomas biting his top lip gauging his friend's reaction. He was ready to jump up to pry Thomas off of Rachel if need be. Thomas's pulse throbbed in his forehead as he tapped his index finger on the table of out nervous frustration.
"Enlighten me," He encouraged her angrily.
"Hating you requires effort and I don't waste emotional energy on you," Rachel shrugged returning to her cooking.
"What did I do Rachel," Thomas said finally. "I don't remember."
"I fail to see how that is my problem?" Rachel returned. She turned back to them slamming the fork down on the table before leaving without another work.
Thomas looked at Minho who shrugged baffled by the entire episode.
Rachel lied. She didn't want him to know just how much anger she felt for him, still. It was easier to pretend she didn't care than justify why she did. She swore when she was banished from WICKED, she wouldn't give him, or her or them, the satisfaction of seeing her pain. Now he was here asking, seeking the truth. She should just let him have it, in every ugly, gut wrenching detail, but that would leave her vulnerable, something she could never allow again. They were a pack of wolves, smelling fear, separating the weak, leading them to slaughter, tearing her away from her sister, and him.
Rachel thought of the boy, the one WICKED tried to swipe from her memory before she left, he nagged at her, haunted her like a ghost, just beyond her conscience, her emotional response to him was very real. She studied the each Glader closely, recognizing some immediately, "Gally, Aris, Thomas and Minho," She rattled off automatically, "Harriet, Sonia and Elizabeth." Many Rachel didn't recognize at all only coming to know them as she treated their illnesses. The boy she remembered, the one on the outskirts of her memory. She couldn't remember exactly what he looked like, but she knew she'd remember him if she saw him. Maybe recalling his name would help? She could ask Minho or Aris about him, but even then she couldn't place any defining characteristics about him enough to describe him to anyone. She just felt he was important to her and he wasn't there.
Rachel tapped on Michael's door, she was certain he'd been dining at the Bachelor's café probably with Ginger discussing work. The gentle glow of the fire greeted her as he opened his door. His smile faded when he noticed her distress. Rachel barely made it inside before the tears fell. Gut wrenching sobs spilled from her lips, of all the people left on this planet it had to be him, here, why? She wanted to scream
out at the unfairness of it all. She wrapped her arms around Michael burying her face in his chest where she cried until her throat was raw, Thomas's face as it was floating like a grotesque caricature of absolute hate in her mind. She tried to distract herself from it but it permeated ever corner, every thought was polluted with it.
"I've got you," Michael whispered into her hair carrying her to his bed. He sat her down wiping her face gently; he unbuttoned her coat hanging it from the bedpost. All the while his eyebrows bunched together in concern his jaw working furiously. He laid her down gently removing her boots before climbing in next to her.
He felt as she relaxed melting into him. He wrapped his arms around her holding her protectively. He tried his best to keep calm but when he thinks about the boy, everything he'd done to hurt her and now she'd forced to care for him without forewarning it angered him more. He wasn't sure if this was the same boy, what were the odds? He hadn't seen Thomas Murphy in years since he was 12 then he was an underdeveloped preteen. Then it was only brief pockets of time which consisted of escorting the Chancellor into and out of the maze planning room. Now he was nearly a man, a lifetime of experience in his eyes. He slumped, not at all like the arrogant boy he met all those years ago.
She was running but no matter how far or how fast she ran the monsters nipped at her heels. She could smell their foulness making it even harder for her to breathe. Michael was at the end of the dingy alley, standing, waiting to protect her if she could just get to him. She ran with tears streaming down her face, flooding her eyes until she couldn't see. She was terrified, desperate, alone. These beasts hell-bent on destroying her matching her pace relentlessly. She couldn't get to Michael; she couldn't climb up the brick walls in either side to safety and she couldn't go back all she could do was keep running this unending alley with the hope at the other end she couldn't get too. She stumbled, the monster's teeth made contact breaking the skin on her calf. Rachel screamed out before she scrambled to her feet reaching her top speed. She was exhausted, sobbing, she couldn't breathe. She was going to die all she needed to do was accept it she fell to the ground the monsters flung themselves at her all she noticed was their familiar blue eyes.
Rachel cried out as she woke. Michael woke instantly alert, pulling Rachel into his embrace. She let out a loud sob before burying her head in his chest. She shook uncontrollably she felt the urge to vomit but swallowed mouths full of saliva to prevent it.
When she finally emerged from her cocoon of safety the room was dark and cold. She was comforted by the sound Michael's strong heartbeat and his solid warmth. As long as he was here with her she was safe. She took a ragged breath.
"Thank you," She whispered into the dark.
"Are you going to be ok?" He whispered in reply.
"Probably," she said softly.
