Page 79 of Agent Zero
Could the other woman smell her, too?Would being infected make Holly more valuable?Should she tell them?
“Let’s move on,” the man said.“You’ve become very much a liability, Ms.Candless.You are now property of the United States government, and we expect your full cooperation.”
Is that the royal we?Holly glanced at the woman by the door, who hadn’t moved.The blonde was barely even breathing; her forehead glimmered a little under the assault of fluorescents.Her skin looked polished, it was so flawless.Not a divot, nary an old zit or a rough patch.
Bitch.Holly sagged in the metal chair.She couldn’t even pretend this was a bad dream.It was too real, right down to the scrapes and a splatter of dried blood on the back of the man’s hairy hand as he picked up the file, tapping it against the table as if to straighten the contents.
Holly found her voice again.“Whose blood is that?”If it’s Reese’s...no, it can’t be.It just can’t.
He frowned a little, muddy-brown eyes narrowing.It was the woman who spoke, instead.Contralto, very flat, somewhat breathy...and terribly, horribly familiar as well.
“Sloppy, sir.”She didn’t move, and the glowing sheen on her forehead had to be sweat.
It was the woman who had called Hollycollateral.
Everything in the room slowed down, nightmare-style.Even the air thickened, and a spike of pain went through Holly’s temples, adding to the growling in her stomach and the nipping, irritating muscle aches.
Something was about to happen.
The man didn’t notice.He merely looked at the back of his hand with that same small frown, like there was a tiny, interesting insect crawling there.Then he sighed and tapped the file one more time.“Three, I think this loose end needs to be tied up.”
“It does, sir.”The woman’s tone was just as flat, and she moved so fast she almost blurred.The spike inside Holly’s head gave one last twist.
Fresh blood spattered across the tabletop and the manila file.
FIFTY
If he hadn’t been burningoff the trank, he would have killed the bastards before they laid a hand on her.
As it was, Reese was slack-jawed and slow when the black copter descended.Some of the soldiers even wore a fading ghost of Holly’s scent, or maybe he was just high on whatever they’d shot him with.Confusing smells whirled inside his head, walls coming down, everything unsteady and smeared.
He was in the home again, in the green plastic chair of a classroom he shared with Tommy Flisk and George Octonok.George was a Polack and his lazy eye wandered; Tommy was a klepto and a talker, too.Kept muttering about setting the night on fire, and Reese was smart enough to know that was a Bad Sign even if it didn’t mean anything Antisocial.So Reese just sat staring out the window, institutional fried food a lump in his stomach and his brain a mess of fuzzed yarn, rocking back and forth, humming to keep the chaos outside from spilling in.
A jolt, a snap, and he found himself in restraints, his shoulder almost dislocating with a crack of blue pain as he worked his arm loose.You could yank yourself out of metal cuffs if you didn’t mind losing a little skin; zips were bad but they’d taught him things, oh yes they had.
Teach a dog to dig, he goes and digs.
Where was she?Tranked him up—was she collateral?Or was she simply taken, insurance to make him behave?
Motion.The world was spinning.
A gush of cold sweat all over him, the drug metabolizing all at once.The little bastards in his bloodstream were just eating it up.Did they like the various things the tolerance tests stuffed him with?Booze didn’t dent them, smoke didn’t slow them down.
They’ve killed her.
Dark.It was dark, and there was a metal shelf underneath him.For a second Reese thought he was in the passage again, leading her along, her gloved fingers tight in his.
You’re real to me.Really real.
No, he was in the stockade.High lockdown, cuffed and stuffed.Blinking, unable to clear the grit from his eyes because his hands were tied.He was reflexively working one hand free, a thin grease-layer of blood filling his nose with red rage.
Someone else was bleeding, too.
The dark was almost complete, but he heard another heartbeat.A harsh acridity—someone else metabolizing the drug.It wasn’t Holly.
Reese cleared his throat.He still had to try twice before the word would slip loose.“Cal?”
A heavy slurred mumble in reply.“No, Trace, don’t gooooo...”
