The Rapture

THIRTY

PEARL

I followed Shadrach, sidestepping François, a fierce ringing in my ears. My teeth clenched together, and I fought back a defiant growl.

He is ruining our entire plan!

Rage like no other tensed my muscles, causing a swell of saliva to pool under my tongue.

Somewhere in the dark, I slipped on ice and fell to the side. Shadrach must have turned around at some point, because he grabbed my wrists and steadied me. As soon as I found equilibrium, he dropped them as if they burned.

I didn't care that he didn't want to deal with me right now.

I was fuming.

François chased us down, holding an orb in her hands. Her eyes widened at the two of us. It highlighted Shadrach's features and, thankfully, gave me a sense of the area beneath my feet as I stood, quaking.

My voice echoed around the cave as I stabbed a finger into his fine, black, fabric-covered chest and shrieked at him."He isn't dragging me back to Lare, and neither are you! Good! Luck! Pal!"

It was hard to reach, but I jabbed my finger into his chest with the last three words.

I nearly broke my finger.

His chest was like a wall of concrete–unyielding, and so large that it was unsettling. His face was stone cold, but he flinched, giving away his surprise.

Good. Let him be surprised.

"Pearl!" François extended her arms between us and placed a palm on each of our chests. The forgotten orb used to illuminate the area slowly sank to the ground. "You seriously need to learn how to pick your battles, girl. He's a whole human taller than you!"

"Traitor!" I shouted at him, ignoring her. Tears clouded my vision. "This was for nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing!"

Hiding around in a cold hole for what? Breaking my husband's trust for what?

"Something is not as it was before." He frowned, the shocked expression tugging at the corners of his mouth again, appearing more like disbelief. He did not look angry, at least. Not anymore. "I do not know what I smell from you, but it might be an infection of some sort. It is concerning, given the current circumstances in which we find ourselves. We are far away from our best technologies and remedies to help you."

I bristled, pulling my shirt away to smell myself. All that I could smell were artificial flowers and cleansers. He was making no sense. He was actually digging at me for stinking?

I was wearing deodorant! He made it seem like I was a shambling corpse, about to shed maggots at any moment. I sniffed again.

Nothing but cold air and maybe a hint of sweat.

"For your information, I'm wearing deodorant, and I don't have an infection. Would be pretty obvious if I did. I don't have a fever." I was probably messing up the relationship I had tried to build with him the last few days by arguing, but I didn't care. "You know what? I'm tired of this. Fuck it, then. I shouldn't have to be here. I shouldn't have had to do this!"

François placed two soothing, warm hands on either side of my cheek, blocking my view of the alien I wanted to rip apart because I had shouted the last bit. "Calm down. Respirez profondément. Breathe. You smell perfectly fine to me."

I did as she said, tears spilling down my cheeks. Anger left me, only shame and embarrassment remaining, forcing me to drop my head. Right then, I wanted to run away, like all the other times I found myself hurt and vulnerable throughout my life.