Page 25 of Agent Zero
Two slumped shapes on the floor, both in dark charcoal suits.Heavyset men, a pair of matching crewcuts, and under one’s jacket a wooden gun-butt peeped out.The sight made her woozy, because it was obvious they weren’t sleeping.
They were definitely, indisputably dead.And it smelled awful in here, like a plugged-up toilet.Now that her nose was clearing, the reek was almost too much to handle.
Her heart tried to pound, but could only manage a fast walk.She stared.“What’s going on?”
He ripped aside the curtain over her closet; she’d found the cloth cheap at the fabric store and sewn it herself.“You were picked up, drugged, and questioned.They brought you back, probably to arrange you on your bed and put a pillow over your face.It would be ruled suicide or overdose, because of whatever they doped you with.”He grabbed the navy-blue Eastpak she used for shopping or laundry trips and started going through her dresser.
“What are youdoing?”She hopped to her feet—or tried to, sat down hard as her recalcitrant body informed her that she wasn’t going to be standing up unassisted anytime soon.
“Getting you out of here.Unless you want to stick around for them to send someone to finish the job of killing you.”
“Why would...”The world had gone mad.That wasn’t a dream, it really happened.Someone...but why?“Why would anyone want to?—”
“I told you, I’m in security.These guys are the other side.”He closed the bottom dresser drawer, firmly.“Stay there.I’m going to get your bathroom stuff.If you want a book, now’s the time to get it.Think about that.”
“A...a book?Why are you...Hey.Hey.That’s my backpack!”
“With your clothes in it, yes.Pick a book, Holly.I’d hate to choose the wrong one.”
“What are you even doing?”Everything was now happening way too fast; Holly struggled tothinkthrough thick, congealed mental soup.
“Weren’t you listening?Getting us out of here.We have five minutes, probably less.”
She tried to push herself upright again.“Wait.They were carrying me up the stairs.You...you killed them?”
“It’s them or you.I don’t want it to be you.”A rattling sound from the bathroom, then Reese came out, zipping her blue backpack closed.He’d turned the baseball cap around, too, and his dark gaze was level and intent.
He was suddenly looming over her, blocking her view of the bodies.“Come on, Holly.We’ve got to move.”
“I...but where?”She couldn’t even begin to sort this out.Was I in the hospital?Is this something to do with Phillip?
“First step’s getting out of here.”Reese held out a hand.His jacket was dewed with the leftover dark circles of raindrops, slowly drying.“Come with me.”
“The...the police.”Holly’s mouth didn’t want to work quite properly either, maybe because he was staring at her so intently.“We have to...we have to call the police.”
“No.In any case, we can’t do it from here.”A little beckoning motion.His fingers were blunter than hers, and his hand much bigger.Calluses across the fingertips, tendons standing out on the back, and those quick-healing scrapes across his knuckles, much paler now.
She reached up, tentatively.“How are you even here?I was supposed to meet you.”
“And when you didn’t show up I got to thinking maybe I should find you.”He shook his head.“We have to move.Which book are you going to take?”
It didn’t occur to her to protest further.Her fingers touched his, and all of a sudden he had her hand and she was up off the futon, the backpack over her shoulder, swaying a little as he walked her over to the bookcase.She blindly grabbed at a volume, then he had her arm.A few seconds later he lifted her over the bodies on the floor by simply grabbing her waist and picking her up, setting her down where he wanted her.Outside her door—which he swept closed, without bothering to lock it—he turned the wrong way, toward the end of the hall instead of the stairs.
She managed to dig her heels in.“Wait, my wallet.”It was still in her hoodie pocket, despite everything.“My keys, where are my keys?”
“You don’t need them.”Now Reese was all but carrying her, instead of two strangers.“Time to go.I can hear them.”
“Hear what?”
Reese slid the chain free of the emergency exit, popped the door open and glanced out.“Footsteps that don’t belong, baby.This way.”
SEVENTEEN
She still smelled flat-out delicious,even through a scrim of acridity as her body tried its best to get rid of the sedative cocktail.Reese had to find a place to break their trail, get the beacon out of his hip and give her some rest.Right now she was easy to handle, disoriented and vulnerable.He could have told her the sky was made of frogs and she’d have accepted it, those smoky-blue eyes huge in her wan little face.
The passivity wouldn’t last.As soon as she realized she couldn’t go back to her tiny little apartment, her job, or anything else about her life, there were going to be problems.
There are already problems.Am I degrading?How long do I have to keep her awake to make sure she won’t go into shock or coma?She still smells good.
