A few minutes later, I had stumbled onto the stage with Lisa Ann so close behind me that she was very nearly attached to me. The lights had been so bright that I almost couldn’t see past them into the endless sea of faces in the audience. My mother, Esmeralda Banks, was there in the back, waving a huge foam finger like you use at sporting events. It had my name written on it in pink puffy paint, and seeing her there had given me the confidence to push the button.
My eyes snapped open, and the lights were so bright that they nearly blinded me. Dots began to spark across my vision, dancing like little rainbow-hued ballerinas as I forced myself to stare at the man behind the glass.
“No,” I croaked, my voice coming out in a wet wheeze. “You can’t have my body.”
The doctor stared at me like I’d just grown a spare head, which I was pretty sure hadn’t happened. His eyes were wide, and he raised one liver-spotted finger toward me and pointed. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and confused.
“What’s going on?” Gabriella de la Mancha boomed from beyond the glass. I hadn’t seen her before, but now that she had spoken I could just barely make her out beneath a mass of machinery. She was wearing a thing that looked like a basket strainer on her head. Wires every color of the rainbow protruded from the device as she pushed herself out of her chair and stumbled toward the doctor.
“Gabby,” he said, grabbing her. “You mustn’t strain yourself. It’s a minor problem.”
“What’s the problem?” she growled, looking at me through the glass. Her eyes were red-rimmed and feverish. There was something else there behind the anger though, fear. Gabriella was afraid.
“I tried to press the link through, to fuse your minds for the download, but there was too much interference from her memories.”
“Of what, a prison camp?” Gabriella said a second before she collapsed back into her chair. Her chest heaved from the effort from standing for those few moments.
“I had a life, you bitch!” I cried, throwing myself against the bonds. “I had friends and a mother who loved me!”
“You had a spy who pretended to love you,” Gabriella snarled.
“No. She has a spy who does love her!” Stephen’s voice boomed a moment before a grenade clinked off the glass inside their room and landed on the control panel in front of the glass. The doctor screamed as Gabriella threw herself sideways.
The glass shattered into a zillion pieces as Stephen’s grenade detonated. Black smoke curled up from the control panels, filling the room so that I couldn’t see what happened to Gabriella and the doctor as the lights winked out in a crackle of electricity. Bulbs exploded, sending shards of razor-sharp glass raining down on top of me.
A moment later, Stephen was through the window and coming toward me like a freight train. He was covered in blood. It looked like a balloon full of red paint had exploded on his chest, arms, and legs. He reached me a second later, a black disk in his hand. It whirred to life as he swung it at the restraints. The device cut through them like tissue paper, parting the metal in half a breath.
He pulled me free, and I wobbled along unsteadily because for some reason my body wasn’t working as well as it should. Even still, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him as hard as I could.
“You’re alive!” I squealed, tears running down my face. “I was sure you were dead!”
“I’m like a cockroach,” he said. “I’d tell you all about how I escaped, but right now we don’t have time!”
“Okay,” I said, releasing him. “Let’s get out of here!” Before the words had even left my mouth Stephen was across the room. He slapped some black goop on the wall, and pressed a device with two electrodes attached to the wall. The room shuddered as the wall jerked upward into the ceiling. The metal corridor behind the fake wall was peppered with fluorescent lights, giving it a distinctly antiseptic feel.
“Let’s go,” he said, looking back at me before heading inside.
“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing back over my shoulder as the wall slid shut behind us, leaving us trapped in the hallway.
“To the escape pod I saw on the way here. Hopefully we can make it before anything else happens.”
“What about Gabriella? Is she still alive?” I asked, trying to look past him down the tunnel, but couldn’t see anything because he was blocking my view. “Did you see her body?”
“No, but she’s probably dead,” he replied, glancing at me and the look on his face made me shiver. “I did throw a grenade at her,” he added, stopping suddenly in front of a huge door.
“We need to make sure she’s dead, Stephen,” I said as he grabbed hold of the door and shouldered it open. It screeched on its hinges, barely budging more than a few inches. “We need to go back and check.”
“Abby, even if she did live through the grenade, she needs your body to survive. If you leave, she’ll die anyway.” Stephen reared back and took a flying leap against the door. A wet crunching sound filled my ears, and he cried out as the door shuddered open. He slid downward clutching his shoulder, face twisted in pain. I reached down to help him, and he pushed me away, getting to his feet on his own.
“But…” I bit my lip. I’d seen too many movies where the bad guy survived, and I really, didn’t want to relive this whole thing again in a month or a year because we didn’t spend five seconds putting a bullet in her head. “Stephen, I’m going back to check,” I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when a bullet pinged off the metal beside Stephen’s head.
I hit the ground, glancing back down the hallway to see a contingent of soldiers barely visible at the other end of the hallway. They hadn’t rushed in yet, evidently preferring the cover of the door we’d used. Great, now there was no going back.
“Get down, Abby. I don’t want you to accidentally get shot,” he snapped as he dropped to his hands and knees and fired back down the hallway. Then he poked his head through the door he’d just opened, surveying the outer room in quick bursts of movements.
Evidently, he was satisfied with whatever he saw because a moment later he hobbled through the opening, still clutching his shoulder as another bullet zinged off the wall.
“It’s clear,” he said, glancing at me with eyes like an ocean storm as I followed him.
A giant metallic pod hung suspended in the air by a giant metallic claw. The ground beneath it looked like one of those portholes that might open or close. Stephen hobbled up to a control panel and began turning knobs and pulling levers in a way that didn’t make any sense to me.
It must have made sense to the room though because the pod began lowering as the floor opened up to reveal dark sea-green water. I took a few steps forward into the room when something zinged by my ear, pinging against a pipe. I dropped to the ground as soldiers flooded out of another door, pouring in so quickly that it reminded me of swarming ants.
“Abby, watch the pipes, they’re full of plasma. If you get too close, you could get hurt,” Stephen cried as bullets pinged all around him.
“Why are there pipes filled with plasma?” I asked as I crawled toward him, bullets pinging off the steel in a way that suggested they weren’t trying to actually hit me. It was either that or they were terrible shots. Somehow, I didn’t think that was the case.
“They feed energy through the reactor. I don’t know the specifics, but they help power this place.” He had a gun out now and was firing at the mass of soldiers, though almost all of them had found cover. There was no way we were going to make it to the pod without becoming very similar to Swiss cheese.
“So what happens if we blow up the pipes?” I asked, finally coming up beside him.
“Um… plasma leaks into the room killing us all?” he said, glancing at me. “But I’m out of grenades so that doesn’t matter because bullets won’t do the trick.”
I bit my lip and pulled off my mom’s black ring. My hand was trembling as I held it out to him. “What if you used this?” I asked, closing his fingers over it.
I nodded as he smiled wider. “Abby, I could kiss you,” he said, and a second later, a blush spread across his cheeks. “When you get to the pod, hit the big lever on the left of the porthole.” He turned away from me, fired over his head, and hit something on the panel with his other hand.
The claw holding the pod released. It crashed into the water, sending a wave out in every direction. It splashed over us, making me shiver as it ripped away my body heat. Stephen was on his feet already, firing up at the soldiers. “Abby! Get to the sub!” he cried, slapping the ring against the pipe to our left.
The ring began to throb as I sprinted for the pod. Bullets pinged off the metal around me as I reached the door and grabbed onto the lever. I yanked as hard as I could, my hands gripping the metal so hard it hurt. My muscles corded with the effort as the lever slid open with a start. I lost my grip and tumbled backward, smacking against the ground so hard, I saw miniature stars flash past my eyes.
Stephen was next to me, dragging me into the pod. The door was shutting behind me when I noticed blood coursing down Stephen’s body. It was everywhere, and though he was trying to hide it, I could see the huge hole in his bicep even through his shirt. I moved to touch him, to grab hold of him, when something exploded behind me, and the room around us shuddered.
Heat washed out of the room, and even within the pod, it felt like it had to be a billion degrees on the other side of the wall. Flame licked across the walls and floor, engulfing the piping and soldiers in blue-white fire. Then we were beneath the water. I glanced over to see Stephen in the pilot’s seat. Blood was gushing from his wound as he smirked at me.
“Can you grab one of those bandages while I get us out of here?” he asked, nodding toward a med-kit stashed in some netting above his head.
“Yeah,” I replied when a shockwave flung us to the side. The pod tumbled, bouncing along the ocean floor like a basketball. I gripped the back of the chair so hard that my fingers hurt as Stephen struggled to bring the submarine back under control with one arm.
The med-kit flew from my hand and smashed against the wall, spilling its contents across the floor as Stephen struggled to bring us under control. His bleeding arm fell uselessly to his side, leaving a bloody handprint on the control panel.
I took a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest, and let go of the chair. I leapt across the submarine and hit the ground hard. Pain flashed through my arm as I crawled forward, grabbing onto the spilled med-kit and tucking it against my chest. I turned back toward Stephen as we lurched sideways. I flew through the air and smacked against the wall with a sickening thud.
My brain sloshed around in my head as I fell forward onto my hands and knees. The room spun as I tried to crawl forward, still clinging to the med-kit like my life depended on it. I made it to Stephen what felt like hours later. He was slumped against the control panel, breath shallow and skin cool and clammy. Blood pooled around him, so much that I could scarcely believe it all came from his bullet wound.
Without thinking, I pulled his shirt off, and my eyes widened in shock. He was riddled with bullets, and I couldn’t help but think there was no way he was going to survive. I glanced from him to the med-kit in my hands as doubt washed over me.
“I-I don’t know what to do,” I murmured, but even as I said the words, my body was already leaping into action, tearing gizmos I’d never seen before from the med-kit and using them on Stephen’s body like I’d done it a million times.
Slowly, steadily, Stephen’s breathing stabilized, and for whatever reason, I knew that while he wasn’t out of the woods, he wasn’t in immediate danger. Now, I just needed to get him to a hospital. How the hell was I going to do that? He was the pilot after all, and despite being a super-spy, I doubted he was going to be able to pilot the submarine lying unconscious on its floor.
I glanced out the view screen and stared at the base. It was all sheared off bits of blackened metal, and from the look of it, I doubted anyone had survived. Well that wasn’t an option.
“Okay, Abby. You can do this,” I said, sitting down in the pilot’s chair, the feel of his still warm blood seeping into my clothes. For some reason, it didn’t bother me as much as it should have. I glanced back at Stephen and smiled at him. “Stephen, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I’m not going to let you die too. This time, I’ll be the one doing the saving.” An intense calm settled over me as I placed my hands on the controls, and my fingers flew across the panel, turning knobs and pressing buttons.
The submarine lurched forward as I looked up from the controls to see my eyes reflecting back at me in the bright green light of the view screen.
20
I was standing at the window, looking out the window of the Miami hospital, when Stephen groaned. I rushed toward him, my heart hammering as I reached his side, glad that he was alive.
We’d barely made it in time after I’d crashed the submarine onto a remote Miami beach and dragged Stephen onto the street because something told me being found in a stolen submarine might not be the best thing for the both of us.
“How are you feeling, Stephen?” I asked, smoothing his hair out of his face with one hand. He was still so pale and gaunt from the surgery that I almost had a hard time remembering how perfect he had looked only a few days before.
“I’m fine, Abby,” he croaked, trying to smile at me. “Thanks to you.”
I blushed and looked away. “It was nothing,” I replied, smiling at him.
“It wasn’t,” he paused, licking his lips. “It wasn’t nothing, Abby. You stopped the bleeding long enough to get me to a hospital by submarine. I…” he took a deep breath, “I didn’t know you could do all that.”
“I didn’t know I could either,” I said, still not quite looking at him. The truth was that while he’d been in and out of surgery over the last couple days, I had stumbled upon an interesting fact. I could do things I never could before.
Stephen’s phone rang on the table next to him. He glanced at it, eyes wide. “Does someone know I’m here?” he asked, pain flashing across his face.
“No,” I said, grabbing the phone and putting it to my ear. “Yes?” I asked it.
“Abigail Banks?” the voice on the other end asked. It was one of those fake synthesized voices that reminded me of Gabriella de la Mancha.
“Speaking,” I replied.
“Is Stephen still alive?”
I glanced at Stephen and covered the receiver with my hand. “They want to know if you’re alive.”
Stephen’s eyes went wide, and he tried to sit up. He fell back against the bed, chest heaving.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Hang up,” he squeaked, voice barely audible.
I hung up and took a step toward him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Abby,” he said, voice strained as he tried to sit up again. “You need to get out of here right now.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked as the distant sound of sirens filled the air.
“Abby, they are coming for you.” He swallowed. “You need to run before they get here.”
“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes at him as I took a step toward him. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Is Gabriella still alive?”
“Yes and no,” he wheezed, “but we don’t have time for me to go into it now. Just get out of here.”
“You better make time,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest and fixing him with my best glare.
He stared at me for a long time before nodding his head at me. “Help me up,” he said.
“You can barely move, how am I going to help you?” I asked.
“Grab the wheel chair, put me in it, and get us out of here,” he said, pointing at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.
I stared at him for a long time as helicopter blades thrummed in the distance. “Fine,” I rep
lied, glancing at the window, looking for the helicopter because it sounded like it was right on top of us. “I wonder if something happened…” I murmured to myself as I pulled him from the bed, one of his arms braced over my shoulders. He cried out in pain and bit his lip to keep from screaming.
“That’s why I’m trying to tell you, Abby,” he said, words stilted with pain as I dropped him into the wheel chair. “They’re coming here for you.”
“For me?” I asked, and for whatever reason, that same sense of calm I’d felt descend over me in the submarine fell over me now. “Who is coming for me? Please don’t tell me I should have gone back to make sure Gabriella was dead.”
“Enough about Gabriella,” he swallowed as I pushed him out the doors and toward the elevator. “We have to worry about my people now.”
“Your people are coming for me? I thought they were the good guys.”
He laughed for a moment before falling into a fit of coughs. “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “We’re the bad guys.”
“You’re the bad guys?” I asked, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed us as I hit the button on the elevator. “How can you be the bad guys? Your people saved me.”
“No, Abby,” he replied. “See…” he swallowed, and looked away. “I went rogue. Our people, they cut a deal… it’s why Donovan turned you over.”
I don’t know why exactly, but that news made me feel nothing. Like absolutely nothing. Like I was empty inside. It should have made the room spin, should have made me want to scream at him… but for some reason, right now, all I could do was file it away. That should have scared me because realistically he had just said, “my people were trading you to a homicidal maniac for…” For what?
“Why did they want to trade me to Gabriella?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“For a weapon, Abby. For an incredibly powerful weapon.” Great, now I needed to escape from people who had traded me for something I had no idea what it was. That seemed promising. I looked down at Stephen, unable to move in his wheelchair, and sighed.
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