Page 6 of Agent Zero
Sometimes he wondered if the docs tested for VD, and wondered if the invaders would eat any of those illnesses the way they consumed every other sickness or infirmity.He also wondered if anyone would work his backtrail and figure out he didn’t touch the girls.It could be a bad sign, and his continued existence probably depended on giving the program whatever it wanted to hear.
The rush slowly cleared.The tattooed girl worked her tables aggressively, bending over and leaning in; the brunette with the bubblegum habit bounced along with a maximum of efficiency and a minimum of fuss or emotion.
Then there was...Holly.It wasn’t just that she smelled so delicious.The more he watched her, the more he liked her.She was just so...kind?Was that it?
He inhaled, deeply, and it wasn’t just a twitch.It was definitely his body taking notice.
Twenty blocks from the apartment was this run-down squatting tin cube of a diner.He’d come in on a whim, scouting the lay of the land near base, part of an agent’s habitual recon.At first he’d thought it was a bakery; his mouth started watering the moment he hit the door.He’d figured out it wasn’t fresh bread.The smell shifted—he could never quite pin it down—but it was definitely her.Whenever she brought the coffeepot, the hormone rush almost blinded him.
Black hair, sweat-raveled on the back of her neck under the sloppy but effective bun.Dancer’s calves—she walked to work, too.Smoky blue eyes, fringed with charcoal lashes.No makeup, except maybe a bit of ChapStick.Cheap sensible shoes, and the green of the polyester uniform did nothing for her—she really deserved red, a nice clingy number with spaghetti straps.Fingernails bitten down, no pantyhose.Sometimes, when she was coming through the swinging doors, she had a small smile, just a curve of pale lips.
It never lasted.She set her shoulders, put her chin up, and got her job done.She gave the kids an extra peppermint at the end of their meal, even the brats.Unfailingly polite, even with the trouble tables—the bubblegum and the tattooed girl both handed the problems over to her.She tipped in the kid doing the bussing and probably the cook, too.
The regulars asked for her, and she always had a soft word for them, remembering names and asking about kids, coworkers, hospital stays, if the vitamins worked, if they wanted their usual.The kind of employee nobody thought much about until they left and things went to hell.
Thousands of women just like her in dead-end service jobs all over the country, used up and put-upon their entire lives.Maybe in a while she’d turn bitter instead of polite, and those eyes would go dark.Before then, maybe he’d get a chance to...what?
Stupid.If he got close he’d foul her, smear all the blackness he carried over an innocent person’s life, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.She deserved better than this goddamn job, and he wanted to figure out how to give it to her.
It was no use.He had to get some sleep.
Still, he wrapped his hands around the stone-cold coffee cup.
Nine months ago a man at the counter had dropped like a felled ox.Heart attack.Reese could close his eyes andseethe light on Holly’s hair, how a few strands had come loose and fallen down, the high flush in her cheeks, the way she’d cradled the man’s hand and bent over him, whispering.It’s going to be okay, Ernie.Just hold on.Help’s coming, just be okay.
She’d kept on talking to the man, even when he’d been strapped to a gurney, harried EMTs wheeling him for the door.She’d only let go when they lifted him into the ambulance, and after it had peeled away, siren shrieking, she’d come back in, pushing her hair back, and restored order with a few smiles and free coffees.
At least they’d kept the siren on until they were decently away.He’d heard the sound cut off abruptly, and watched to see if she’d noticed… but nobody else in the diner was jacked into the red with happy little invaders.As far as they were concerned, the battle had been won.
They were so busy congratulating each other nobody had noticed how pale Holly was, or how she shook.She covered it well.
That was the first night he’d followed her home, and she’d walked with her head down all the way from the subway, wiping at her cheeks and sniffing quietly.He’d kept repeating to himself that he was just doing it as an exercise.Just practicing.
He surfaced from memory and scanned the diner again.The rush was over; bubblegum brunette had a couple at a table all the way across the diner.Tattoo Girl had vanished.Holly finished filling a napkin container, grabbed the coffeepot and darted a glance in his direction.
The closer she got, the more that maddening smell teased at him.It wasn’t fertility, it wasn’t danger, and it wasn’t interest.It was something else.Something good, and he inhaled as deeply as he could, stealing while it lasted.
“Hey.”A tired smile.There were shadows under her eyes.Sleeplessness, or something else?“Need a refill?”
He shook his head.The world swam for a moment, came back.He’d start cannibalizing reserves in a little while.Sleep was definitely best.This close, he was almost dizzy.Was he sniffing like a coke fiend?No, she’d probably be looking at him strangely if he was.
“Okay.”She paused, examining him.“You look a little tired.Maybe you should catch some rest, mister.”
“Reese.”It surprised him.“It’s Reese.I think I should.”Very carefully, he pushed the chair back.She was only average height, just up to his shoulder.“Thank you.For letting me sit.It must seem pretty strange.”
“We see strange in here all the time.”She took two steps back, not precisely nervous.Just like a doe on delicate legs, moving restlessly.Coffee sploshed inside the glass pot, and that fragrance spilled over him in a wave.“Want me to call you a cab?You really do not...I mean, you look a little pale.”
The way she said it probably meantsick.“I’ll be fine.”He dug for the wallet, not breaking eye contact.Stay here.Just for a couple more seconds.Nothing good ever lasted, but if he could get just a few more seconds, it would help, right?“Just, you know.Jet lag.”
He didn’t even look at the bill he laid on the table.Neither did she.Instead, she studied him, a faint line between her eyebrows.A tinge of lemon-yellow worry to that marvelous scent now, and he couldn’tthink.She looked worried.About him, and he was a virtual stranger.
Christ.What would it be like, to care that much about random passersby?It sounded exhausting.Maybe that was why she looked so haggard.
She nodded, the worry a little sharper now.“Maybe you should drink some of that coffee.You know, keep you awake until you can go to bed.Jet lag’ll keep you turned around if it can.”
“Thanks.”He forced himself to take a step to the side, another.She was still watching him, and the concern was full-blown now.
He wasn’t blending in.This was dangerous, it was flat-out unprofessional, and he could not for the life of him figure out why the hell he was doing it.
