Defector

Bobby's Pancake House. A quaint diner infested with regulars and tourists alike looking for extraordinary food and friendly service. Bobby manages the joint and also the grill when he's not too busy keeping an eye on local kids who are known for causing trouble in the area. He knows everyone and has a very trusting nature about him which was obvious when he willingly hired me on as one of his servers.

Sure, he was skeptical at first. He watched me like a hawk for the first month I worked there. He knew I was just using this place as a quick way to earn cash and to hide out for awhile, but never questioned as to why I was hiding. The thing about Bobby is he takes care of everyone whether you're a customer or an employee. He saw me as someone who just needed some help and he wanted to do what he could to assist in anyway possible, even if I appeared sketchy.

We had a slow evening and he allowed the other server I was on shift with to go home early while I stayed behind to help him close down. Just the two of us, alone, gave him the opportunity he had been anticipating for awhile. I was wiping down the counter, scrubbing away at the syrup which was pasted to the top and not going down without a fight. Bobby was emptying the coffee machine behind me when he cleared his throat.

"My daughter had alopecia." I stopped cleaning the counter and glanced over my shoulder at him. "She had a bunch of wigs and head scarves she would wear to cover up her hair loss. So I know a wig when I see one, even the good ones." I watched him begin to turn around to face me and I quickly went back to wiping down the counter. "That Avery boy told me a couple things before I hired you. For starters, I know your name isn't Hazel." I peered down at my name tag reflecting those exact letters at me. "And he mentioned you were a red head." I heard him begin to scrub the coffee machine. "So imagine my surprise when I met you and you were blonde." I grabbed the spray bottle on my left and began to sanitize the counter. "I don't know what brought you here and I'm not so sure why you're here," he said calmly, "but you're an exceptional worker and I'm glad you found your way to this place. We could use a couple more like you."

Bobby has never brought it up again and doesn't act differently around me. It's been three months since then. I haven't been in an area this long for awhile and I'm starting to grow attached. I have a job, an apartment, and some people who care about me. One of them being my roommate and coworker, Ryan Avery.

Ryan and I met a few months back when I stumbled upon him vastly outnumbered by a local gang. I stepped in and sent the lot packing with minimal injuries myself while Ryan on the other hand was left in rough shape. I helped him to his apartment where the owner of the building who calls herself Elle, fixed him up. I waited with him the whole night to make sure he was okay while curiously watching Elle. Something about her seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. She caught me looking at her a few times, but never questioned me or bothered to talk to me in general.

Once Ryan was awake and feeling better, he felt indebted to me and begged for me to stay in the area. I reluctantly accepted not realizing I would still be here six months later. Ryan had me move in with him and got me a job at Bobby's in exchange I teach him how to fight. His progress has been exceptional. In the few months I've been training him, he's surpassed me in quite a few things. He definitely hits harder than I do and he's good at anticipating moves, but I still have better speed and footing. He's beaten me at a couple fights, but I still have more wins.

Having a sparring partner reminds me of The Tunnel and training sessions. I try my best not to think of my time there or the people which is sometimes hard to do when I get a phone call or a text message from Quela Flint who I still talk to regularly. After I left, I got a burner phone and slipped her the number as long as she would keep it a secret. She appreciates our conversations seeing as how she's surrounded by the boys most of the time and could use some girl talk every now and then. She tries not to pry too much into where I am or what I'm doing. Since I've been settled in the same town for half a year she's aware of my location. I just hope she doesn't use that information against me.

The lunch rush is dwindling down giving me an opportunity to sneak to the back and have Big Sal make me a sandwich and some fries. Big Sal makes a better grilled ham and cheese than Bobby, but I'd never tell him that. I scarf down the toasted sandwich burning the roof of my mouth with the hot cheese in the process. Bobby pops his head through the window notifying me that someone is here to see me and that they are seated in my section. I raise an eyebrow at him before heading for my bag which is hanging in the employee closet. Big Sal watches as I pull out an automatic knife and slip it into my apron pocket. He steps away from me appalled and frightened as I glide by him and back out into the diner.

My eyes fall upon a girl with dark brown hair facing away from me. I cautiously walk up behind her as her boot covered foot taps anxiously outside the booth she's sitting in. She turns her head to the side as though she can hear my footsteps. No point in sneaking up on her. My nerves calm when I realize who it is. I slide into the seat across from her.

"What in the world are you doing here?" I ask lounging back in the booth.

"Visiting an old friend." Quela says smiling. Her red blindfold is securely fastened around her wrist like an accessory. "It's good to see you," she squints her eyes, "Hazel." She pauses. "Hazel?"

"I don't use my real name." I chuckle. "Seems like the treatment is going well for you if you can see my name tag."

Quela was blinded by a woman who goes by the name Casandra. She is currently running most of the country under the alias Dranca. Casandra is the main reason I was kicked out of the rebellion. I was in her custody for a month when I finally broke myself and the others out, but also starting a war between us. I couldn't let anyone I cared about get in the middle of it, so I decided to flee and fight this one on my own.

Quela told me toward the beginning of the year that they were willing to attempt to restore her eyesight again if she was up for it. She accepted, not caring if she would be able to see at the end of it or not. She had gotten used to being blind and was one of the best fighters at The Tunnel.

"I can also see that you're blonde now?" She shakes her head. "That better be a wig." She barks folding her arms across her chest. I nod rolling my eyes at her.

"Seriously, Quela," I lean forward, "why are you here? I mean it's been over a month since we talked last. What's been going on?" She looks down and takes a deep breath.

"Something has happened." Her eyes lock onto mine. "Hunter was shot."

"What?" I sit up. "Is he okay?" I inch forward.

"He's okay, sort of. The bullet hit his rotator cuff so he's been in a lot of pain." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"What is it?"

"There's more." Guilt is written all over her face and I can't understand why until a shadow of a human appears over the table. I glance up and recognize the brown hazel eyes I left behind almost two years ago.

"What the fuck, Quela." I growl under my breath trying not to cause a scene. "I trusted you." She sits quietly appearing disappointed and ashamed. I rise from the booth, but am stopped.

"Just sit back down, Detope." Logan whispers softly.

"Don't call me that." I hiss through my teeth.

"Well I'm not calling you Hazel." He retorts.

"I don't have time for this. I have to get back to work." I go to march passed him, but he shoves me back into the booth.

"HEY!" Bobby yells from behind the counter. "You two." He points to Quela and Logan. "Out of my diner."

Logan reaches down and helps Quela out of the booth. Bobby glares at them as they leave the facility. Ryan walks over to the booth as I slowly get up. He gives me a concerned look and asks if I'm okay. I nod before walking away. Several customers ask if I'm alright which I reassure them everything is fine with a fake smile on my face. Bobby keeps an eye on me making sure I truly am alright. He doesn't ask questions, but suggests I take the rest of the day off. I accept, feeling disgusted and completely done with this day.

Ryan offers to drive me back to our apartment, but I decline claiming the walk will let me clear my head. I head to the kitchen to grab my belongings taking notice how Big Sal reacts to me. His eyes are wide and alert with fear resting within them. I offer him a smile and tell him to have a good rest of his day hoping it will calm his nerves. He forces a smile which fades quickly when I turn my back to him. I know he will notify Bobby about what he witnessed once I'm out of the building which I don't care about. I'm more concerned about him being frightened by me or my actions.

The sun is brighter than I anticipated, but my eyes adjust accordingly. It warmed up quite a bit compared to this morning. Most of the snow from Tuesday's final winter storm has melted and left the sidewalk and streets coated in water. Spring is right around the corner and I'm anxiously waiting for the weather to be warmer. The heat in our building couldn't decide if it wanted to work or not. Elle promised she would get it fixed, but we ended up adjusting to the frozen apartment.

Water splashes up after every step I take on the sidewalk. I realize I'm walking faster than I normally do out of frustration and annoyance. I wouldn't have minded if it was just Quela who came to see me, but she broke our deal. If I wanted Logan to see me or know where I am, I would've told him.

I glance over my shoulder when I get the nagging feeling in my gut as if I'm being followed. I reach behind me and grab onto someone and throw them against the side of the brick building on my left. I press my forearm into their throat scowling up at my follower. I don't ease the pressure I'm delivering when I see who it is.

"I see you haven't lost your touch." Logan smirks trying to wiggle himself free.

"I see you can't take a hint." My nose touches his. "Leave me alone." I growl.

"Phoenix," Quela says calmly from behind me, "let him go." She demands. "We need to talk to you."

"Talk to me about what?" I bark forcing my arm harder on his trachea.

"Gabe." Logan struggles to get out. I roll my eyes irritated by the sound of his name.

"What about that fucker?" I snarl.

"He's dead." Quela says catching me off guard. I peek over my shoulder at her letting up on Logan's neck in the process.