"Well. Yeah. You're gorgeous. Surely there's no lack of single women or single men interested in you."
"Oh, I see what you're doing." His cheeks turned pink as she closed the space between them. The bathroom had steamed up from the shower running. "First of all, you've made a lot of assumptions with very little information, starting with me being the 'other' woman."
"That's not—I wasn't trying to—"
"Second of all," she said, pressing herself against him and speaking softly into his ear, "I need to hop in the shower. And seeing as how we're in a hurry to catch a bus, we'll have to resume this later."
"Resume...? Resume what?"
She placed her palms against his chest and forced him to step away. "If you'll excuse me." Before he could respond, she closed the door. Eve took one more glance at her reflection, slipped out of her clothes, and stepped into the hot shower.
***
After they checked out of the motel, they rushed to the bus station—Mauricio still invisible—and were the last passengers to board. Eve took an empty row near the back, and Mauricio plopped beside her. Not even ten minutes passed before they fell asleep, and the bus crossed the border into Illinois.
When the bus stopped at Union Station in Chicago hours later, Eve was jolted awake. She grabbed Mauricio's hand and whispered, "Hey, I need to get a prepaid credit card. For the next hotel. They sell prepaid credit cards at most places, right?"
"As far as I know. But I've never used one."
"Well, let's hurry," she replied, leading him off the bus. Looking to the left, she spotted a Walgreens at the end of the block, away from the crowd. "I imagine SPI has eyes everywhere around here. We need to be quick." She walked faster and squeezed his hand as they hurried toward the store. Her eyes darted left and right, checking for the presence of police or anyone who looked like an agent.
They arrived at the store and, to Eve's relief, there was no line at the checkout.
"How much would you like to put on it?" the cashier asked.
She handed him a wad of bills.
"Five hundred even?" asked the cashier.
"Yes," she answered, zipping up the backpack. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed a man in jogging clothes. Something about him worried her, and her heart raced. Don't look paranoid. You're fine. They don't know this face. But her concern intensified when he locked eyes with her and said something into a wireless earpiece.
"Your card, Miss," said the cashier.
She turned to the cashier, who proceeded to provide instructions about how to use the card. All the while, she squeezed Mauricio's clammy hand.
As she headed to the door, she looked back one more time, and the man in jogging pants met her gaze. He was approaching her while another similarly dressed man was walking behind him. Stop worrying. There's no way they know it's me. Yet the sudden presence of a policewoman coming up alongside the man dispelled any doubts that she'd been detected. All three of them looked straight at her as if daring her to run. How did they—?
Mauricio squeezed her hand, and at that moment, she did what was natural. She ran.
"You're you again," Mauricio exclaimed, breathing heavy. "You don't look like the redhead anymore. You must've changed before we walked into the store. It's the only way they could've—"
"Oh no. Oh no," Eve panicked. "I won't go back. I won't let them take me."
"Come on. This way," he yelled, tugging her as they reached the corner. They turned down an alleyway, rushed inside a small dive bar, and sprinted toward the restroom. It was unoccupied.
Inside the restroom, Mauricio locked the door and became visible.
As though frozen in a state of shock, Eve stared at her reflection. "I won't let them take me. I won't let them take me again. Not again."
"Eve, you have to change back. Or we'll never make it to the bus."
Frantic thoughts stampeded through her mind as she tried to concentrate on the image of the redhead.
"Eve, hurry."
"I'm trying."
"You can do it. You've done it before. Believe that you can do it again."
"I'm trying!"
"You have to relax, Eve."
"How the fuck am I supposed to relax right now?" she shot back.
In a flash, he gripped her arms and planted his lips firmly on hers. Stunned for a moment, she didn't move. Her eyes remained wide open, staring into his. It occurred to her how long it had been since she'd felt the warmth of another person. She parted her lips and allowed his tongue to dance against hers.
Loud knocks at the door interrupted them. "Police. Open up."
Mauricio released her.
"Why'd you do that?" she asked.
"To relax you. Did it help?"
When she turned to the mirror, she saw her own brown face and tapered dark hair.
More banging at the door. "We need you to come out Miss Cooper."
He squeezed her arm gently. "Relax," he whispered, fading. "You can do this."
Eve fixed her gaze on her reflection and concentrated on an image of red hair and greenish-gray eyes. No change. Sharp pains like knives shot through her chest.
"Miss Cooper, come out right now. This is the last time I'm asking."
Still concentrating on changing and losing hope with every passing second, she heard a key turn in the door. Taking five deep breaths, she pressed her palms against the sides of her face and closed her eyes until there was total silence and darkness.
When the door opened, the policewoman from the store had her gun drawn and pointed at Eve's chest. She lowered her gun as the red-haired woman turned to face her. Tears glistened on Eve's rosy cheeks.
"What's happening?" Eve managed, surprised by how believable her confusion sounded. She stared at the cop and her partner, standing alongside the two men in jogging clothes. Invisible, Mauricio remained still.
"I'm sorry, Miss. There was a mistake," the policewoman said, holstering her gun. She sounded angry rather than apologetic. "We were looking for someone else." Without another word, the cops and the two men glanced around the back of the bar and ran out the front door.
All the bar patrons were staring at Eve in bewilderment. She wiped her face, caught her breath, and with an air of nonchalance exited the bar. Seeing no sign of the cops or the two men, she took Mauricio's hand and sprinted to the bus stop, still looking over her shoulders now and then.
They took an empty row near the rear of the half-empty bus.
"I think I figured something out," said Mauricio, breathing raggedly.
Before she responded, she slipped in the earplugs they’d gotten in Iowa and connected them to the cell phone. The last thing she needed was for people to think she was talking to herself. "What? And keep your voice down so people just think I’m on a call," she asked, her eyes closed as she inhaled and exhaled in rapid succession.
"I think when you panic, you lose control of your ability. I think it's why you changed back." He paused, and she felt him move closer to her.
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Eve, I'm serious. We can't let what happened tonight happen again. We won't get away next time."
She massaged her aching ribs.
"And another thing. We know for sure they have no idea that we—or you—can change your appearance."
"They might figure it out after tonight."
"No. I doubt it. From what I can tell, they don't have a clue. But we need to stay one step ahead of them."
She opened her eyes and looked around to make sure no one was watching or hearing them. "How?"
"That's what we have to figure out."
9
After passing out of Chicago, the bus rolled along the busy interstate, stopping several hours later in Cleveland. Hesitant after the incident in Chicago, Eve and Mauricio made a quick dash to the Wendy’s, used the restroom, grabbed combo meals to-go, and rushed back to the bus. They ate in silence as people piled onto the bus.
“It’s been a month since I was in my apartment, r
eading and petting Mr. Pebbles,” she said, swallowing the last bit of the dry burger. “As much as I don’t want to endanger my friends, maybe I should contact them.” It wasn’t too late to contact Zoey and Gabe. They could at least make sure Mr. Pebbles was okay and maybe pay up her rent. She was sure the landlord had already served an eviction notice. All her valuables, her music, her clothes, would be tossed out—if not already—or claimed by whoever was charged with emptying out her apartment. Her books, a collection she'd spent years building. All of it would be gone. A surge of anger shook her.
“It’s unwise, Eve. Trust me. You don’t know if SPI is watching them,” said Mauricio.
The bus started moving again, and Eve sighed. “You’re probably right.”
She got up and discarded the Wendy’s bag in the trashcan. Once she returned to her seat, Eve tried not to think about the life she was missing in Chicago. But she couldn’t help but wonder where Mr. Pebbles was, if the ornery cat was alive, and who was feeding him. She'd given Zoey a key to the apartment, she remembered. Hopefully, he's with Zoey and Gabe. They'll look after him for sure. She consoled herself with this thought, thankful that at least Mr. Pebbles might be fine. Did she tell Zoey that Mr. Pebbles liked a bit of milk mixed with his water, or that he liked to nibble on crackers?
Lost in these miserable thoughts, she fell asleep, slumped against the window.
When she woke, the mountains of Appalachia had replaced the snowy Midwest fields. As the bus traveled along the empty Pennsylvania highway, her mind drifted back to Chicago. An image of Zoey centered in her mind, and she closed her eyes. She saw Zoey's honey brown eyes, and that big, dimply smile of hers. Her fingers ran through Zoey's tight curls and down her back. The warmth of Zoey's arms enveloped her, and she smiled, lost in the sweet fragrance of cocoa butter.
Unable to hold it in anymore, Eve let the tears gush. But she silenced her sobs, careful not to draw attention. Overwhelmed by the realization of all that she'd lost, she cried quietly, looking out the window and watching the sun set over the valley. After a while, she rested her head against Mauricio who was sound asleep.
When the bus arrived at Union Station in Philadelphia later, she'd cried so much that she felt almost numb. Not speaking, she took Mauricio's invisible hand, and they scuffled toward Rittenhouse Square. The streets were teeming with people leaving offices and heading to bars or else home.
“I hate bus rides,” said Mauricio. “Maybe we need to think about buying a cheap car.”
"Yeah, I hate bus rides, too. But our money will only stretch so far, and we don’t know how long we’ll have to be on the run like this. Not to mention, I’d hate to get pulled over by the cops for speeding or something and land back in SPI’s hands."
"Good point. Well, all I know is I've been looking forward to the hotel pillows, to be honest. Why do hotels always have the best pillows?"
"These are life's important questions."
"Indeed," he chuckled. "I've never been to Philly. Have you?"
"Nope."
"Well, let's hope we find Miss Taylor."
"AJ."
"Yeah. I wish we could’ve talked more about a plan before we got here. But it’s not like we could do that on the bus," he replied. "Anyway, let's hope we find her quick so we can keep moving."
Keep moving where? We don't know what the fuck we're doing. What's our plan besides finding the faders? But just as that question occurred, an answer popped into her head. For the first time all day, she smiled. "I need a laptop."
"Why?"
"I'm going to write about what SPI did to me, what they've done to others like us. And then shop it around to the media to see if anyone will run it. I have a friend with media contacts."
"Do you really think it's a good idea to broadcast this?"
She stopped and turned to him, although she couldn't see him. "People need to know, Mauricio. The world needs to know what they're doing to us. You really think Americans will stand for having their own people kidnapped, tortured, and turned into...super soldiers or some shit?"
"If most of those people look like you and me, then yeah. They'll stand for it because, you know, history."
"I just think if people know, they'll want to —"
"You have way too much faith in people," he interjected. "Also, you know you should put in your earplugs. You look like you're talking to yourself right now."
She looked around, noticing the wary glances and stares of the pedestrians. She lowered her head, put in the earplugs, and continued walking.
As they reached an intersection, the light turned red, and she stopped at the crosswalk. She could feel Mauricio staring at her. Barely moving her lips, she mumbled, "The point is publicizing this might scare the shit out of SPI. And, if we're lucky, it might get some human rights groups and NGOs breathing down their necks to keep them distracted while we find the other faders."
"Assuming the other faders will even care about what happened to you. Let's face it, if SPI is paying them well enough, they're not going to give up the cushy job."
"You gave it up."
"So did you. But look at the price we paid." He paused. "I'm just saying we should keep our expectations low. But I'm with you. All the way."
She squeezed his hand.
The light at the crosswalk changed, and they resumed walking, eventually stopping at two hotels and inquiring about room rates. After ten minutes, they settled on one at the corner of Rittenhouse Square and Walnut Street and booked a room for three nights.
***
Eve gazed around the bathroom at the white marble floors, the sink and floor-to-ceiling mirror, the gray stone tiles in the shower enclosed with a glass door. I could live in this bathroom. Mauricio stretched out on the bed while she ran a warm bath and prepared for a nice, long soak. How long had it been since she'd had a relaxing bath? She'd lounged in the Jacuzzi one Saturday afternoon with Zoey and Gabriel not too long ago, although it felt like a whole other lifetime.
Examining her reflection, she caressed her cropped red hair. This face wasn't hers, and she knew she'd never get accustomed to it. The smeared freckles on the bridge of her nose would always seem foreign and somehow wrong. The bright-colored eyes would never be familiar to her. She longed for this whole ordeal to be over, so she could change out of what had begun to feel like some sort of unnatural mask. But she had to admit she adored her new bangs.
As she disrobed, she studied her body. Flatter breasts and wider hips, thighs bigger than her own. She'd always wanted fuller thighs. She turned to the side, stared at her ass, and frowned. Figures. All these thighs and no ass. When she faced the mirror again, Eve closed her eyes and imagined her own face and body.
She opened her eyes and, to her surprise, was staring at a brown face. Her face. She turned to the side and smiled. "That's more like it."
"Did you say something?" asked Mauricio.
"No." She heard some shuffling in the room beyond the bathroom door.
"All right. I'm going to run out for a bit and look for a laptop," he said. "Do you need anything else?"
At once, Eve turned away from the mirror and opened the bathroom door. "Actually, yes."
Mauricio was standing near the bed and zipping up his jacket. He looked at her and froze, his eyes traveling from her thighs to her breasts. Meeting her gaze as she approached, he replied, "I was going to also, um, get us some sandwiches..."
She unzipped his jacket, slid it off, and let it fall to the floor, before fussing with the buttons on his shirt. Her eyes were fixed on him, their faces mere inches apart, as she unsnapped his jeans. Zoey's face floated to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed the image aside and focused only on Mauricio.
"Eve, are you sure we should—"
"Yes. With all this stress, we could both use a release. Don’t worry, I have an IUD."
Squatting, she slid his pants down and then his boxers but kept her eyes fixed on his. When she rose again, she took his hand and led him to the bathroom. There she p
ressed him against the wall and nuzzled her nose against his neck. "That kiss at the cafe in Chicago...it's not the kind of thing a woman forgets. But I am a little fuzzy on the details. Why don't you refresh my memory?"
Steam rose from the Jacuzzi tub filled with hot water and bubbles. Mauricio brushed his palms against her cheeks and brought her face closer to his. As their lips met this time, she put her arms around him, and when he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. She'd needed this—the raw exhilaration of being close to someone, even if it were empty and temporary.
***
She wasn't sure how long she'd soaked in the tub after Mauricio left, but by the time she stepped out, her skin was paler and wrinkled. After moisturizing her hair and drying off, she exited the bathroom and turned on the television.
No sooner had she slipped into a T-shirt and sat on the bed, Mauricio appeared in front of the door with shopping bags in both hands. She noticed the door had not opened. "Did you just literally walk through the door?"
"Yeah, I did it in Cleveland. When we stopped at the Wendy's, I went through the restroom door. But I thought I was going crazy."
"Wait. You never mentioned this. Why didn’t you say something? You can go through solid walls?"
"Yeah. I think I have the hang of it now. I have to concentrate on what I'm trying to walk through and then hold my breath and walk through. It's kind of fun, after a while." He grinned. "You're not the only one with more than one gift, as it turns out."
"I see," she said, regarding him with curiosity. "What's in the bags?"
"Food, a laptop computer, and other necessities—snacks, washing detergent, a couple of spare flash drives." He sat next to her, dropped the bags on the bed, and pulled out the laptop box. "I took some of the cash and got the cheapest laptop I could find."
She stared at him with a testy expression as he pried the box open. "Why didn't you just steal it?"
"Because I'm not a criminal," he answered, casting her a disdainful look.
"You've killed people. Multiple people."
"For SPI."
"Murder is murder."
"Not when it's for the government."
Eve and the Faders Page 15