Marked

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hector said. "Ramos could be sick with anything. Who knows what type of conditions they were exposed to out there? But what we do know is that we need to get you out of that soaked shirt and cleaned up just in case it's contagious."

"But there isn't anything here for me to wear," Rachel said.

Hector handed her a small towel that he soaked through with warm water in the sink, and she used it to scrub her neck and cheeks where Ramos's blood had become dried and sticky.

Simone rummaged through the nearby cabinets and drawers but couldn't find anything except a few blankets. Rachel grimaced at the thought of having to sit there in a blood-soaked shirt for who knew how long.

"She's right. There's nothing here but blankets." Simone confirmed, lifting one as evidence.

"Here, you can have my shirt." Before Rachel could object, Hector pulled his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head, revealing the tanned and muscled skin below.

Rachel looked away, slightly embarrassed and Simone waggled her eyebrows in approval.

When she turned back to Hector, he held the shirt out to her, and she forced herself to look at it and not at his bare chest. She took it and went to the sink where she scrubbed her hands and then put on a pair of gloves so that she could peel her shirt off without getting blood on her skin.

Jerking a curtain that hung near the cot until it obscured her completely, she changed into Hector's shirt, careful to throw her own blood-soaked t-shirt onto the floor. The shirt smelled just like him and she welcomed the warmth that still lingered on the fabric from being next to his body.

When she rejoined them, she could see Simone nervously chewing away at her nails while they both stood by the door's window.

Nobody could be seen beyond.

"I wonder where they took my mom. What if they all get sick, Ray?"

"You heard Doctor Everest. They're going to take good care of them."

"But they wouldn't quarantine the entire floor if it wasn't something serious." She protested.

"It's just a precaution."

"We need to get in contact with Debra. She's our counselor- she should be able to help us or at the very least she can give us some answers." Hector said as he resumed his pacing.

"You heard the doctor- no one goes in or out of this place." Rachel replied.

"She doesn't need to come in. We just need to contact her."

"We can use those." Simone pointed at Rachel's wrist where her watch rested. "I've seen Tom contact people through it. Yours should work too, right?"

"That's right. Good thinking, Simone. Let me see if I can get this thing to work." Hector fiddled with his watch and while they waited, Rachel couldn't help but wonder if he was cold. There was a draft in the room, and it made her shiver even while wearing his oversized t-shirt.

All things considered; he was very pleasant to look at. His skin was the color of melted caramel—an effect, no doubt, of his Hispanic heritage. He was tall and though he didn't have a six-pack, he was muscular and lean.

Rachel, my beautiful rose.

Rachel dug her fingernails into her leg just slightly to help bring her back down to reality. The compound people were out there probably sick and terrified and all she could do was stand there and drool over Hector.

Ramos was sick—he could very well die and his blood had landed all over her. What if he really did have that disease she'd heard so many covert whispers about? Did that mean she would get sick too?