CHAPTER 6: Heaven
She used to love parties. Not anymore.
Three weeks before Patrick noticed that most of the survivors were struggling with frustration, anger and depression. He could understand those feelings: although the facility helped them a lot providing a shelter and very useful supplies, they all had to fight constantly to do the simplest thing. They gave so many things for granted in their past life, and now they were forced to see how hard it was to grow a simple plant and not to buy it on the market. That, and the number of losses they all suffered in the past months, were driving them over the edge.
He started to think of a way to loosen things up a little, to let people know that there was still hope and those things were going to be better, and he remembered of the two guitars he saw in one room on the second level underground. That's how the whole idea started.
- Maybe.
- Come on, Rach, can you show a little more enthusiasm?
- It's just that, I don't…
- I know, you're not the party kind, you already told me that. Although when you were with Dean it seemed otherwise.
- Not fair. – Rachel answered quietly.
A year back a comment like that would have made her snap and/or slap his face. Now she just calmly resented his words. He didn't apologize.
- You could be a little more supportive. I'm doing this for all of us.
- I know. – Rachel got closer and placed a hand on his chest, smothering his shirt – I will.
Patrick spent the last two weeks organizing the party. He went among the survivors to find someone who could play, and he actually found two guitarists, a piano player, three drummers and a violinist. It was way more than he dared to hope, and it gave him energies and strength to go on with the preparations.
He called a group of people to work with him, and they closed the main hall for more than ten days, letting the hype built among the survivors.
He meant well, he took seriously his leading role, and he tried to do his best. Rachel admired him for that, but she also knew that all his efforts were vain.
She had been one of the first survivors finding Heaven. At first seeing all the supplies in the magazines and the lamps lighting up because of electricity she felt hopeful, but after a few days she started to realize that, no matter what, their life from that moment on was going to be just an endless struggle to survive. Their life wasn't worth leaving anymore. She knew it and they, eventually, would know too.
Rachel opened the draw of her table and took the envelope in it. It was almost empty, meaning that soon she would have to take a trip to the second level underground, where she hid the rest of it. But for tonight was enough, enough to relax her and make her go to that idiotic party. Patrick would be waiting for her, that evening, and she needed to be at her best to pretend to be the perfect companion of a fearless and selfless leader.
Shit.
Her hands trembled and she was getting anxious. She barely had the time to do it before preparing for the evening. She needed a bath but to get it she would have to bend some rules.
Tell the truth Rach, you're going to steal someone else's turn and you're going to get away with it. Your dads would be so proud…
But her dads where dead so were all those who knew the good, old, determined, stubborn, dreamer, Rachel. It would have been more accurate to say that she had died with them too.