Marked

Chapter Twenty-One

Now that Lou had agreed to train her, she spent a lot of time with him and his group of trainees. It was as if everything else had ceased to exist except for this war, Lou, and the training room with the glass cubicles and the blue foam mats.

She began to understand why Hector had always looked so exhausted—why he had rarely hung out with her all those times she thought he'd been ignoring her. Training took up her every waking moment and even when she slept, she dreamt of flying.

Today was the day she'd finally get to go into a simulated flight, much to Copenhagen's disapproval. But just as they'd suspected, he'd taken the news quietly. He hadn't made threats of removing her supporters from training- but she'd already known he wouldn't do that.

He had simply given a curt nod of his head and grumbled, "Don't disappoint them--the people sticking their necks out for you."

A low drum of chatter reverberated around the room as the group of twelve waited for Lou to leave his office with the control panel he liked to keep slung over his shoulders like a tray of food.

As he descended the steps, Rachel was too nervous for her next part of training to register what Hector was saying beside her. That changed when he squeezed her hand, forcing her attention on him.

"It'll be fine." He assured. "You'll do good. You've studied for this, you know what to do."

"At least I can't really crash this aircraft."

"That's true." He grinned and tapped her under the chin. His usually messy hair was combed back, giving her a clear view of his handsome, angular face. "But you won't crash. You'll do great, believe me."

But not everyone could be as talented as him at everything. It had come as no surprise to learn that Hector was the leader in their squadron. Natural born leader, was he, just like she'd always known. Probably one of the many reasons why she loved him.

Lou made the call for everyone to go to their assigned cubicle, their cue to separate.

Rachel gulped just as Hector pulled her to him and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Relax," He murmured against her skin. He squeezed her once and then let her go, giving her a cute, departing salute.

For a fleeting moment she wished she could go wherever he went. He knew what to do and she had no clue. And she felt safe with him, even if it was just a simulation.

But she'd fought tooth and nail for a spot in training and she couldn't just let that go to waste now. Besides, no one had said it would be easy. But she knew that at least it would be worth it.

She forced her feet to carry her to her cubicle—a block of six glass walls, about a foot taller than she was which seemed to taunt her with each wink of light that traveled across it.

She pressed her entire palm against the glass wall nearest to her, just the way Lou had taught her. Even as she pulled her hand away, her palm and fingers remained, leaving behind a ghostly blue imprint.

The glass door opened up to reveal a single chair with a control panel in front of it. Rachel watched as the others grabbed their masked-helmets, put them over their heads and settled into their chairs.

She imitated their motions but was shocked into gasping when the chair seemed to seep into every fiber of her being.

All across her back, tiny pricks of pain shot their way across her spine like painful, jabbing needles. She didn't breath. She couldn't.

Finally, the sensation stopped with a final sting at the base of her neck. The mask around her face made her feel suffocated. It was as if she could barely get enough oxygen. Could she even breathe through this thing? Her vision began to swim. Black circles crept into the corners of her eyes, turning the world into a black ocean.