"How...?" he mouthed.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know," Agent Grobeck wheezed, struggling to free himself from her.
She squeezed harder.
"I swear I don't know. He's been AWOL since you escaped," he managed.
“We assumed he was helping you,” said Charlie. “But we’ve had no luck locating him.”
Eve shot a glance at Agent Yu who suddenly wore a pleased expression. "Agent Yu made a deal with him."
He looked at his subordinate, and his expression went from surprised to hostile.
Eve grinned, looking at Agent Yu with deep admiration. She released him.
"How are you able to...your strength...how...?" he said, rubbing his neck.
"I'm pretty sure she's the smartest person in this room." Eve gestured toward Agent Yu but kept her eyes on Agent Grobeck. "Now I can see why she set you up." From the corner of her eye, she saw the perturbed looks on the faces of Charlie Ford and Doctor Thomas.
A raucous, guttural sound came out of nowhere, and her chest was heaving in and out, causing pain in her upper abdomen. Laughter.
Eve was laughing harder than she'd ever laughed. She laughed so much that she bent over and held her thighs to catch her breath. "You people are the worst." She laughed so hard she didn't hear the noise outside the room. The noise of boots against the floor.
AJ grasped Eve's arm and pulled her away. "We need to fade before the cops get here, Eve."
Eve glanced at Agent Yu. She'd stepped aside once AJ released her and was watching her boss with a look of profound delight.
Charlie sat behind the desk, while Agent Grobeck and Doctor Thomas remained standing. Warily, they stared at the door.
Observing their anxiousness, Eve smiled with satisfaction and folded her arms across her chest.
"Eve," AJ said, tugging at her again. "We need to go."
She turned to Niles and AJ, grasping their hands as relief swept over her. "It's finally over."
"I wish it was, Miss Cooper," said Charlie, buttoning his blazer. "For your sake and all of ours, I wish it were. Because of your actions, the world is going to look quite different soon, and I'm afraid there's nothing men like me can do about it now."
As she stared at him, she saw something new in his eyes. Fear. "There was never anything men like you could do about it. That's why you beat us, imprisoned us...killed us. Because you couldn't control us," she said, smiling. "The world doesn't belong to you. Not anymore."
Holding hands, she and her friends faded.
***
As they hurried away from the building, Eve felt as though she was walking in a daze, as if she'd been hit over the head. Charlie's last words rang in her ears.
"Eve?" said Niles. "Where're Sam and the others?"
They stopped next to the boarded-up greystone across the street from the SPI facility. Absently, she removed the hairpin from her hair. Before she turned it off, she said, "Sam, get Gabe and Zoey and bring them here."
Niles slid the gun into his pocket and stared at her with a quizzical look.
Samuel appeared in front of them, with Gabriel and Zoey standing next to him. She rushed into the arms of Zoey and Gabriel, kissing their faces and hugging them as though she hadn't seen them in ages.
“I wasn’t sure if I could do that, Eve. I felt like I was standing in place forever trying to get us here,” said Samuel, his breathing labored as though he’d run a marathon. “You and Niles make hopping seem so easy. It’s not.”
"What's going on? How did he know to—" Niles began.
"Eve used Agent Yu's hairpin recording thing, and I live-streamed the whole showdown," replied Samuel, looking around. "Speaking of...where's Agent Yu?"
Niles pointed at the building. "Back there."
Samuel gaped at Eve and Niles in disbelief. "You let her go?"
"This wasn't about her," AJ replied.
Samuel groaned but kept quiet.
"Is it over now?" Zoey asked, propped against Eve and observing the chaos across the street.
Like a distant and detached spectator at a movie, Eve watched the activity across the street. The scene in front of the building seemed so far away. "I don't know."
"What about Mauricio? Do they know where he is?" asked Gabriel.
She shook her head. "There's a silver lining, though. They don't seem to know about our abilities beyond the fading.”
“Except for Agent Yu. She said at her apartment that she knew Forest Sherman could do other things,” said Niles.
Eve nodded. “But that she kept it to herself because she feared what Grobeck and Doctor Thomas would do. They still have no idea we're capable of more than just fading. I hate to admit it, but she may have saved us. I suppose she has some sort of moral code. Warped as it may be.”
"Well, they know that you're Wonder Woman strong now," AJ remarked, grinning. "I have to admit watching you almost choke out that psycho was the most satisfying moment of this whole night."
Eve flushed bright red.
"So, where to now?" asked Niles.
Eve looked at the building. The crowd had begun to disperse, and the cop cars were departing. A dozen individuals in agent uniforms hung back and lingered outside the building. The last media crews were leaving. Within minutes, the parking lot was vacant.
"I mean, we can go pretty much anywhere," said Samuel.
She thought about the money in her backpack and dug her hands inside her jeans pocket. When she felt a hard piece of paper in her pocket, she pulled it out. A business card from Moriset & Granger, LLP. She glanced at Gabriel and Zoey and stuffed the card in her pocket. "Mr. Pebbles? Where is he?"
"We left him with our neighbor again. They love him. He’s fine," Zoey answered.
Eve exhaled.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" asked AJ, growing impatient. "I'm ready to get far away from here."
"Well, I say we go pick up Mr. Pebbles and head somewhere that’s warm in late January. An island in the Caribbean," Eve suggested. She thought about the house in Indiana. It was time for her to do what she should’ve done years ago. “But first, I need to make a stop in Indiana. There’s something there that belongs to me.”
“So it looks like the itinerary is Chicago, then Indiana, then the Caribbean?” Niles grinned.
AJ smiled. "Sounds fucking fantastic to me. I hear good things about Aruba."
"Then that settles it," said Eve. "Come on."
They all linked hands, and when Eve closed her eyes, she felt that familiar tug in her stomach.
Epilogue
Mauricio turned over and rubbed sleep from his eyes. Stretching and yawning, he gazed around the large room and looked at the vaulted ceiling. He rolled out of bed, still wearing his jeans and sweater from the previous night, empty bottles of cheap wine strewn about the floor.
As he squatted to collect the bottles, he cried out in pain and pressed his palm against his forehead. It throbbed as though he'd been repeatedly punched in the face. "¡Coño!"
Dropping to the floor, he held his palm firmly against his forehead and massaged it in a futile effort to soothe the pain. He panted, and tears threatened to pour down his face.
With scrunched up lips and a look of determination, he brought himself to his feet and stood. He wouldn't give in again. He promised himself he wouldn't have another drink to block out the images of Zoey Ellis' bruised body. He wouldn't sleep away another day trying to silence the shrill screams of these innocent people he'd led into the web of SPI, all for the sake of securing his own freedom.
But what was this? Was this freedom, being cooped up in a hotel room away from home and unable to be with his family? What had his betrayal purchased but a flimsy, temporary freedom that all ended when Eve's video aired and Charlie Ford uttered his name? He promised himself he wouldn't sleep away another day trying to replay all the ways things had gone wrong. Dwelling on the "what ifs," "shouldas," and "couldas" was nothing more than an exercise in masochism.
Even as h
e promised he'd stop wallowing in self-pity and bygone possibilities, he knew he'd break this promise in a matter of hours. Just as he'd done yesterday and the day before that and the day before that.
He squatted and scooped up bottle after bottle, depositing each in the trash. By the time he'd cleared all the bottles off the floor, each of the three trash bins in the room was full.
Next, he dragged himself to the tiny bathroom and went straight to the shower. He turned on the cold water. His body shivered violently as the frigid water hit him, but he was glad for the distraction from his miserable thoughts.
He wasn't sure how long he stood under the water, but he stepped out when he heard the phone ring. Throwing a towel around his waist and still dripping wet, he ran to grab the phone from the nightstand. It stopped ringing just as he reached it. It was probably the hotel's receptionists, he figured. It couldn't be anybody else he knew because he'd dropped completely off the map.
He was safe. Finally.
Sitting on the bed, he looked at his briefcase that contained around five thousand dollars or, as Olivia Yu had referred to it, "get lost money." It wouldn't last him long in London. He needed a plan.
A knock came at the door, and he hopped up like a man on fire.
He waited to hear "Housekeeping," but the word never came. Silence followed and then another knock.
"No. It's not possible. I covered all my tracks."
When another knock came, he cautiously approached the door and looked through the peephole. No one was there. Another knock. He pressed his eye against the peephole. Still, no one was there.
"Am I going crazy? Or..." He opened the door but left the chain up. "Who's there?"
"Mr. Candela, may I have a word?" said a man he couldn't see.
Mauricio stayed quiet, frozen still. How had they found him? He'd done everything to stay hidden.
"My name is Orson Remington III. I'm like you," the man whispered in a thick English accent.
Mauricio could smell mint on his breath. He was leaning in close. "Wait, that name rings a bell. You're not with SPI?"
"If I may have a word, I can explain."
Hesitantly, he undid the chain and opened the door wider. Although he couldn't see him, he felt the man pass by and enter the room. Casting a final glance at the hallway to ensure nobody else was there, Mauricio shut the door and locked it.
When he turned around, he was facing a towering and exceedingly well-dressed man with chestnut hair. The man extended his hand, and his eyes lit up with excitement as he smiled. Mauricio looked at the man's hand but didn't shake it.
"Your fear is understandable."
"You say your name is Orson? Where do I know that name from?"
"The papers, I suspect."
Mauricio folded his arms across his chest and regarded him with distrust.
Orson's smile faltered, and he cleared his throat. "I'm an MP."
"Parliament?" Mauricio's eyes widened.
He nodded.
Mauricio's posture stiffened, and he seemed to grow an inch taller as he straightened up and dropped his hands to his sides. "And you're a fader, too? But your country doesn't know. They don't know what you are, do they?"
"I take it you don't read the papers?"
He narrowed his eyes on the man. "What do you want from me?"
"I have a job offer for you?"
"Yeah, been there done that. My answer is no."
"I know all about you, Mauricio Candela. I know about your exploits in the United States with the other fader, Eve Cooper. You two have been doing a lot of PR over the past weeks. And my contact in Chicago told me quite a bit about you."
"Your contact?"
"Yes. Mr. Ford found it necessary after the events of recent to divulge information about you, in hopes that I could assist with locating you. He was under the impression that you’d managed to move your family to England. He's extremely unhappy with you. It's all rather complex and convoluted, but he believes you are an imminent danger to the national security of the States. The Americans, always so worried about bloody terrorism. Nevertheless, it didn't take much to find you once I sniffed around enough. I caught a whiff of you while I was on a business trip in Philadelphia. I ran into a lovely redhead in the restaurant of the hotel you happened to be staying at. I will admit I tried but failed to chat her up—something about fit ginger women is simply irresistible. However, imagine my surprise when I followed her—I was invisible, of course—and saw that she was sharing a hotel room with you and another fit young woman. You, my fellow, are a lucky man."
Mauricio sighed. "Look, I said I'm not inter—"
"I confess I lost your trail a little while after that—had to attend an all-day meeting. Duty calls, you know. But the next thing I know, you turn up on my side of the pond. McDonald's isn't the best place for healthy eating, and even fugitives should take heed of what they put into their bodies."
"You stalked me?"
"Well, in fact, I was simply passing by the McDonald's next door when I saw you walk out two mornings ago. I followed you up to your room but thought I'd be polite enough to wait for you to arrive at the McDonald's the next morning. But you didn't. And you didn't this morning either. Hence, my untimely visit to your room. From the odor, it's safe to assume that you haven't left this room during the past two days. Or showered, for that matter. Is that so?"
Mauricio didn't nod or offer any response other than a confused stare.
"I understand that those poor chaps on the torture video were acquaintances? Bloody savage Americans. How awful."
Mauricio studied the man's face for any signs of sincere sympathy. “Look, I’m not interested in anything you have to offer me. You can leave now.”
“Oh, I think you might be interested in this opportunity. After all, I’m sure you’d like to return to your family,” said Orson.
“Forgive me if I’m not in the trusting spirit, but the last time someone offered me a job I didn’t apply for, I ended up losing my family. Then, the minute I get back to them, I’m forced to leave again.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Orson interjected, “why did you leave them again? Surely you could’ve stayed with them and kept yourself off the radar, so to speak.”
Mauricio glared at him. “How could I remain with them after the whole world learned my name? Where could I hide from SPI, from Ford, with the whole world knowing who I am? Look at how easily you found me.”
Orson nodded. "Yes, but lucky for you I’m not here on behalf of SPI or Ford. I’m here because you shouldn’t have to hide. My science, research, and development firm hopes to create a world where you never have to fear being a post-human, where you never have to worry about your friends or family being made to suffer because you are different. I'd like for you to work for my firm."
"Post-human?"
Orson came a step closer, and Mauricio could make out the freckles on his nose. "I believe we're the next stage in human evolution. We're what comes after human."
Mauricio shook his head. "We're freaks."
Now Orson looked genuinely sad for a moment. "One day, I hope you realize that's internalized prejudice."
"Whatever. I don't want the job. You can go now," said Mauricio, frowning.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Orson buttoned his blazer jacket. "As you wish." He headed to the door but turned once more. "My brother Cornelius may have another opportunity more suitable for your talents and interests. Here's my card." He reached out to hand him a small business card, but Mauricio didn't take it. Orson, instead, laid the card on the desk. "Whenever you're ready, call that number and leave a message. Meanwhile, I've paid up your room for a month. Cheerio."
Without another word, Orson Remington III disappeared, and the door opened and closed. He was gone.
***
For two more days, Mauricio didn't leave the room. Instead, he ordered up more food and bottles of wine and drank himself into a stupor. He flipped through the ch
annels on the television, stopping on the BBC, where an anchor discussed the details of the Ellis' torture video. The anchor was interviewing a human rights expert about what it meant for the world that faders existed and that the government was willing to torture innocent citizens to find them.
Night had fallen outside, and Mauricio muted the television while he gazed at the London skyline, at the BT tower in the distance. How far he was from home. He thought about his wife and kids. He wondered what it would be like if he could go home to them; if he'd never been pursued by SPI in the first place. If he'd never been born a fader. He didn't dare close his eyes to try to envision this alternate reality. Doing so produced greater despair.
In fact, closing his eyes nowadays only yielded images of Zoey Ellis' tearful face, or images of Gabriel Ellis beaten bloody and strapped to a chair. With those images came the terrible recognition that they may never have endured such torment had he not made a call to Agent Yu. No, he didn't dare close his eyes. He imagined he'd mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open during the past couple of weeks.
When he looked at the television, he saw Eve's face alongside some of the quotes and headlines from papers that had leaked her story. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look at her in the face again and explain what he'd done or why he'd done it. Would he be able to explain that those blissful days he got to spend with his family again had been worth the cost?
Mauricio fell against the bed and stared at the ceiling. Tears dampened the pillow. Turning over onto his side, he saw the card on the desk. He thought about the man who had visited him, about the offer.
He got up, went to the desk, and looked at the business card for the third time in as many days. Wiping his face, he abruptly picked up the card and headed to the bathroom. He dropped the card in the toilet and stared at it floating in the urine and water.
As he sat on the bed again, he opened another bottle of wine and turned it up. It heated his chest and stirred up a flavor of vomit in his mouth, but he held it in. He increased the volume on the television, thankful that the BBC news anchor had moved on to a story about the success of wind energy in northern Europe. He drained the bottle of wine and fell onto his back.
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