The Spectrum Force, Heather Ray [best free ebook reader for android .txt] 📗

even thinking, Chris reached out and grabbed her arm. She glanced back at him, noting that his dark eyes were now moist with bitter tears.

"Ray," he said in a low voice, "is this your way of telling me that you... don't want to be with me?"

Rachel swallowed hard, wrenching her arm from his and hurrying to the locker room door. Chris' eyes widened as she moved further from him.

"Please, Rachel," he called after her, "don't-"

She then disappeared through the swinging door.

"-keep running away from me," he finished, sitting heavily on the bench and staring at the door. With a deep sigh, he pushed closed Rachel's locker, which she had left open in her haste.

"Why did I go into that subject?" he asked himself, running his fingers through his thick hair, "How stupid am I?"

He should have known that Rachel wasn't ready for that. In fact, even he was barely coming to grips with his feelings. He wasn't sure exactly at what point his affection for the Purple Enforcer really blossomed. It didn't even cross his mind until their sparring match just before the Nightfall incident. Rachel's reserved admission of her concern for him gave Chris such a wonderful feeling of... fulfillment. As if he had just ran a tedious race, and came in first place. Was he trying to win her love? Was it a prize he'd been yearning for, without even knowing it?

He had reflected upon his feelings for her, but of course the events of the Nightfall and after had seriously limited his time for romantic reflection. But he did know for certain, when he watched Rachel cry before his eyes, that the only thing he wanted to do was to soothe her. To lessen her pain. To free her from the bonds of her self-inflicted emotional torture.

That's when he knew

he really cared for her. He cared for her more than he thought possible for such a new acquaintance.

And now, he foolishly chose the worst time he could have possibly chosen to broach the subject. And now, he may have done permanent damage to their budding relationship.

"Way to go, Greyson," Chris berated himself, standing up and leaning his head on Rachel's locker, "You sure have a way with women."

Part Three

Matthew took a deep, calming breath as the elevator paused on the fourth floor. The metal doors slid open, revealing a long, narrow hallway.

He hurried out of the confining chamber, sighing in relief as he glanced behind him, and watched the doors slide shut. He wiped the small amount of sweat that beaded on his forehead, and rubbed the moisture onto his pants leg before walking hesitantly down the hall.

For a moment, he wondered at what point his slight claustrophobia had intensified. He was never comfortable in small, enclosed spaces, but he could usually handle elevators without really any discomfort. Typically, he needed to already be in a tense, agitated state for any real symptoms of discomfort to display themselves.

It was over a day after Tamara died, and he miraculously managed to maintain an agitated state continuously since then. Of course, the strain of his friends being in states of depression, as well as Craig's dangerous drinking binge and Keith's apparent disappearance certainly didn't help the young man deal with his concerns.

He couldn't get Tamara out of his head. He kept seeing the gentle laugh in her large brown eyes, or her tender smile. She was always bright and shining... always optimistic, friendly, and open. She was always ready for a good laugh.

Tamara was the optimism that canceled out Matthew's pessimism.

Now... where would that balance come from? Who else would be Matthew's glowing older sister, to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn't working too hard? Who would make him look at the brighter side?

He always thought Tammy was too happy. Now, he could only wish that someone with that inner light could grace his life, so for a brief moment the darkness could fade a little.

Since Tammy's death, Matthew had pushed aside his own feelings in a futile attempt to forget them. He made his concern the state of his friends... just as Tammy would have done. He tried to cheer up Craig, and sought to find Keith. Of course, there was nothing Matt could do to ease Keith's pain... but it certainly wouldn't hurt to try.

Matt's gaze rose to the number on the large wooden door. He pressed his lips tightly in agitation as he knocked on the door, the echo bouncing around the empty hotel hallway.

At first, there was no response at all. Briefly, Matthew considered that Keith wasn't at his family's hotel room. Probably a better place to look would have been the hospital. However, since the Nightfall the Langstrum Alps Memorial Hospital had been so inundated with people that it had become a scene from ER. Since he was studying to be a physician, Matt knew he'd eventually have to be able to deal with the pain and suffering of others. But he was only a freshman... he had seven years of study to complete before he'd earn that license to practice medicine. He hoped his sensitivity would dampen somewhat before then.

Finally, there was a faint shuffling sound in the room. Matt held his breath as the door opened slightly, and a slender girl with large blue eyes gazed up at him expectantly.

"Hi... Connie, right?" Matt said uneasily, doing his best to smile in greeting. The girl nodded her head in response. "Uh... I was looking for Keith. Is he around?"

Connie Maloy narrowed her cerulean eyes slightly, staring up at Matthew questioningly. "Who are you?"

Matt blinked. "I'm Matt O'Conner. We met at the... hospital the other day. I'm one of Keith's roommates."

"Right, right," Connie said, nodding her head absently, "I'm sorry I didn't remember your face. That night was just... so intense. I was actually doing my best to block it all out."

Connie chuckled weakly at her admission. She then backed away, making room for Matthew to enter. "You can come in if you'd like."

"Thanks," Matt answered, walking into the hotel room. To his surprise, the room was mostly dark, with the exception of about half a dozen colored candlesticks, sitting in a circle around a small portion of the carpet. Sitting in the circle was a pile of several books.

"Uh... I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Matt said quietly, frowning slightly.

"Oh no," Connie responded, humored by Matt's reaction, "Don't worry... it's not some kind of weird voodoo ceremony or anything. Actually, they're aromatherapy candles. Keith uses them to relax when he's stressed out, and we brought them as a birthday present." Her frown deepened. "This is certainly going to be a memorable 21st for him." Connie suddenly shook her head quickly, as if trying to force her thoughts from wandering to the grim consequences of the Nightfall. "Anyway... I thought I'd try it out."

Matt did his best to ignore the statement about Keith's mournful birthday, and kneeled on the carpet just outside the circle. "And what are the books for? Hmm... 'The World of Microbiology' and Jane Austen's 'Mansfield Park.' What an eclectic taste you have!"

Connie smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she pulled open the curtains, allowing the bright afternoon sunlight to pour into the dim quarters. "Well, the candles are Keith's way of relaxing, and reading is mine. I love to read novels. They just... whisk me away from reality. Suddenly, my problems are lost as the story takes over. I especially love older novels, like the nineteenth century. Or even science fiction. Both of them pull the reader into a completely different world, with exotic costumes, breath-taking landscapes, and foreign cultures. The power of fiction is incredible."

Matthew nodded, picking up the other book. "And what's the micro book for?"

"Well, I do have an exam to study for, but considering... all that's happened... it's just not a concern anymore."

"I know where you're coming from," Matt said, sitting down on the carpet and leafing through the textbook, "I took micro last term, and it was murder!"

"It's rough," Connie admitted, falling back on the couch, "but it's really interesting. The microscopic world is amazing! It's so hard to conceive all the living things that can exist in a space the size of a pinhead. Just imagine all the different bacteria living on your skin at this very moment!"

Matt grimaced, glancing at his palm in disgust. "Actually, I'd rather not imagine it."

Connie released a giggle at Matthew's expression, and leaned closer to him, her eyes dancing for the brief moment when she could push her troubles aside, and forget them. "So you don't like bacteria, but you took micro? What exactly are you studying anyway?"

"Medicine," he answered, his vibrant jade gaze focused on the jumping spark of a nearby candle, "I'm going to be a doctor."

Connie whistled, nodding her head. "Impressive. And you're so sure of it too, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I've always wanted to be a doctor," Matt admitted, holding his hand above the candle flame, "My dad's a doctor, actually. And he loves his job. He's a pediatrician, and when I was in grade school, he set up his practice at a medical center down the street from our home in Greenwich."

"Greenwich, eh?" Connie interrupted, folding her arms, "Pretty ritzy, eh?"

Matt chuckled. "Well, even the wealthy need a doctor they can trust their children with. And yeah, my dad makes good money. But I could see it in his eyes... the greatest reward for him was when his patients felt better. Sometimes, I spent a few hours in the center after school, in the playroom with the other kids and stuff. My dad has a great way with kids... they were always so nervous, but he took care of them. They'd walk out of the office with a lollipop and a grin." Matt smiled widely at the memory.

"A lollipop," Connie commented.

"Well, my dad's a pediatrician, not a dentist," Matt quipped, stretching onto his back on the carpet. "And I want to be just like him. I want to make people feel

better. What can possibly be more rewarding than that?"

"Nothing immediately comes to mind," Connie answered truthfully, staring up at the ceiling, "It's a great motivation for being a doctor. Most of the students in my micro class are pre-meds also, but it doesn't take a genius to see that they have no passion

for medicine. They're probably in it for the money, respect, and recognition."

"So, are you a pre-med too?" Matt questioned, rolling onto his side and gazing at Connie, "There aren't many other majors that require micro, and you're probably not taking it as an elective."

Connie giggled. "Far from it. Actually, I'm a bacteriology major."