Meet Abby Banks VOLUMES: 1-3

by J. A. Cipriano

  “Abigail, do not resist!” she squeaked in a little mouseketeer voice. “You cannot escape.”

  “Please…” I said, backing up, my hands out in front of me. “Don’t make me…”

  She sprinted at me, tiny hands clutched into fists. I side-stepped her charge, but she lashed out with machine-like precision, catching me in the side of the ribs. Pain flashed through me as she followed it up with a kick to the back of my knee. I fell forward, pitching to the ground. I flung my hands out to stop myself, but she leapt on my back, using her weight to drive me face-first into the pavement.

  I hit hard on my forearms and tucked my body into a roll. There was a horrible crunching noise as the girl smacked into the pavement, but amazingly, she didn’t let go. I came to my feet, and without thinking, used our momentum to send her flying.

  Her nails tore at my sweatshirt as she careened through the air before slamming to the ground a moment later. The girl’s head smacked into the concrete, and for a moment, she tried to sit up, but fell brokenly backward to the street. My heart sank as I watched. I’d just beaten up a little kid. Oh. My. God.

  I took an absent step toward her, my hands reaching out to pull the broken girl into a hug, even though I’d been the one to maim her.

  “What are you doing?” called a deep voice behind me. I spun to see a huge guy on a purple Harley staring at me in shock. He reminded me of one of those old Hell’s Angels guys, only with way more tattoos.

  Behind me, a girl’s screams filled my ears, and I hesitated, shooting a glance over my shoulder. The girl was laying there crying and looking around in disbelief, one arm twisted at an obscene angle as she tried to get up and her face twisted in agony.

  I ducked just as a crowbar cleaved through the space where my head had been. My leg shot out, catching the big biker in the side of the knee. A horrible crack filled the air. He fell, still swinging the crowbar at me. His face set in cold, inhuman determination. I leapt backward, and the crowbar smashed into the asphalt a second before he crashed to the ground. His face changed in an instant. The dazed expression was gone in a moment, replaced by pain and confusion.

  “My knee!” he howled, dropping the weapon and gripping his leg. I grabbed the crowbar and whirled around, looking for the next attacker when a gunshot went off. I spun toward it, my heart racing in my chest like an out of control train. Stephen stood there, bloody and broken with a smoking revolver in his hand.

  I glanced in the direction of his weapon to see a police car spinning off the side of the road, one tire completely obliterated. A police officer was leaning out of the driver’s window, still trying to take aim and blast me.

  My adrenaline shifted into overdrive as I sprinted toward Stephen. His lips were set in a hard line as he jumped on the biker’s Harley. I slid onto the seat behind him as he surged forward, barely giving me a chance to wrap my arm around him. Blood seeped into my sweatshirt as I pressed my body against his back. He was cold. Way too cold for it to be good.

  We left the road in a cloud of dust. Behind us, people were either screaming, or looking around trying to figure out what the hell happened.

  Either way, it didn’t seem like it mattered. How the hell were we supposed to outrun a soulless robot that could take over whoever it wanted? As the adrenaline left me, a horrible thought reared its ugly head.

  Donovan leaned close to me, frigid breath kissing my flesh. “You just beat up an eight-year-old girl with pigtails. I’m pretty sure that makes you a monster.”

  2

  I watched Stephen approach the ‘hotel’ office through the bushes, which I’ll be honest, was a little disconcerting. I mean, what if someone saw me hiding here, watching him like some kind of crazy stalker? There’d definitely be a confrontation then. It’d draw attention, and the flit would come…

  “And you’ll kill some old man on oxygen,” Donovan cooed in my ear. “Or throw a toddler through a window.”

  “Quiet!” I said even as the words made me cold all over. I resisted the urge to hug myself as a vision of myself shooting an old man in a wheelchair as he tried to brain me with a heavy metal oxygen tank played over and over in my head.

  I turned my attention back to Stephen and let out one slow breath. I knew why Stephen was dressed the way he was, but he could have tried to look a little more like he was on the up and up. He had on a pair of huge black sunglasses and an Angels’ baseball cap that was pulled down over his face so he was nearly indistinguishable. To complete the ensemble, he’d worn a giant Angels’ hoodie. It made him look like the most suspicious guy in the world.

  I mean who walks up to the office for cabins in the woods wearing a hoodie, sunglasses, and a baseball hat and offers to pay in cash? No one good, that’s for sure. We’d be lucky if the clerk didn’t call the cops. Of course, if that happened, we’d be attacked long before the call even finished dialing, so there was that. I guess when you were dealing with something that could download itself into anyone’s mind and try to kill you, not being recognized was key. Then again, I was pretty sure this place had exactly zero surveillance.

  Stephen stepped up to the glass window and began talking, his hands waving animatedly in a way that wasn’t normal for him. In fact, his entire body had taken on a weird frantic energy. It still amazed me how he could change not only his voice, but his body language at the drop of a hat. Then again, there had to be some advantage to being a super spy with years of training, right?

  He pulled off his earbuds, letting the white cables dangle out of the front of his sweatshirt and swing like white pendulums. It was sort of funny because I knew they weren’t actually attached to anything. Stephen liked to wear them in public so he could listen to people who would think he was ignoring them.

  He nodded, shaking his head exaggeratedly and pulled a wad of cash from his back pocket. He peeled off a couple bills and pushed them across the counter before shoving the rest of the money back into his pocket. A giant brass key slid into view, and he snatched it off the wooden counter before turning to point at one of the cabins in the distance.

  The guy behind the counter must have said something because Stephen nodded and began walking in the direction of the cabin. His movements were slow, not slow enough to draw attention mind you, but not quick enough to seem like he was hurrying.

  I resisted the urge to cry as he stepped up to the front door of the most dilapidated cabin in the lot. Its painted green roof was peeling so that long strips of bleached wood were visible beneath. A huge cobweb stretched across the frame of one window. The other was completely boarded up with graffiti-covered particle board. As he swung open the stained red door, the house sort of looked like a one-eyed monster with a giant toothless maw.

  Somehow, he resisted the urge to look around before striding through the door. A moment later, lights came on inside, spilling out through the doorway and spider-covered window like the fading gasp of a dying sun.

  I took a deep breath, steeling myself for my inevitable dash to the cabin and touched my hair. It was dyed fuchsia and was plastered into huge six inch spikes. Granted, this made me stand out like a sore thumb, but combined with the fake tattoos and piercings, made me look completely different.

  I pulled on my leather biker jacket with patches for bands I didn’t recognize and zipped it up over my bulletproof vest. I wasn’t quite sure what the vest was made of since it was barely thicker than a t-shirt, but it was strong enough to stop a sniper bullet… something I knew from experience. It made me immensely glad I’d stolen it from an agent a couple days back.

  My stomach gurgled, crying out for more than the protein bar I’d eaten a few hours ago. Hopefully, we’d be able to get something to eat that wasn’t out of a vending machine. Maybe then my belly would stop rumbling hard enough to wake the dead. I pushed the thought away and stepped sideways through the bushes, circling through the debris that scratched and poked at my holey jeans. After what felt like hours, I was only a few feet from the cabin’s entrance.

&nbs
p; I shut my eyes, counted to six, and opened them. I sprinted the fifty feet to the cabin and threw myself inside, slamming the door behind me. Stephen stood a few feet in front of me, his gun pointed straight at me with an amused smile on his face.

  “Glad you could join me,” he replied, and my heart hammered in my chest for the split second it took him to lower his gun and stick it into the waistband of his jeans. When I didn’t lower my fists, he sighed. “I told you I can’t be taken over because of my implant.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better when you have a gun pointed at me.” I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding and unclenched my fists. “Besides, I still don’t understand why they can’t track you via implant.”

  He waved off the question, which was annoying because that seemed like something they’d be able to do with an implant. “It’s not exactly paradise, but it’ll do for now,” Stephen said, gesturing at the room.

  My heart sank into my toes as I looked around. It was tiny, which wasn’t really a problem, but every inch of the place was covered in a layer of dust so thick, I was pretty sure moving would send up a dust storm of extinction-level proportions.

  The lime green couch was so threadbare that stuffing was actually poking up from the cushions. The wooden rocking chair next to it was actually missing an arm completely. Still, it was infinitely better than say, getting shot in the head by a soccer mom being mind-controlled by a soulless killing machine… but not a lot.

  I moved over to the table and pressed my index finger against the surface before inspecting it. My finger had left a small, clean divide in the dust. Awesome.

  “There’s only one bedroom. You can take it, Abby,” Stephen said, voice amused. “But I wouldn’t go and unpack all my things. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay out of sight here.”

  I glanced up at him. He was smiling at me, his perfect mouth stretched into a grin that melted my heart into a little puddle of goo. I looked at where he was pointing and spied the door that led to the bedroom. My cheeks burst into flames as a horrible, no good, very bad thought flitted through my silly brain. I could invite him to stay with me in that tiny bedroom. Who was going to stop me? My mom? The worst she could do about it would be to roll over in her grave.

  “You should do it, Abby,” Donovan whispered and his voice startled me so much I jumped. “I could watch. It’ll be great.” The look in his eyes made heat rise on my cheeks.

  “What?” Stephen asked, staring at me with concern in his eyes. “Abby, what is it?”

  What was I supposed to tell him, exactly? That my imagination was conjuring up the ghost of a man I’d killed. That Donovan was whispering in my ear because I was crazy. That… that… I wanted to take Stephen into that bedroom with me so I wouldn’t die a virgin? Only… only I didn’t want my made up ghost to watch?

  I bit my lip hard enough for it to hurt and pushed away my crazy. I drove it down into the soles of my feet. “Nothing, I’m okay. Um… where’s the bathroom?” I squeaked.

  “Over there,” he replied, pointing to a door next to the tiny kitchenette. I hurried past him without looking back, grabbed the knob, and pushed the door open. It screeched, scraping along the musty green carpet like it was one size too big for the frame.

  “Too bad,” Donovan said, and a ghostly chill trailed down my back like someone was dragging icy fingers down my back. “I’d have liked to watch you fumble around…”

  “Shut up,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice quiet enough to keep Stephen from hearing me. “Just shut up.”

  I sat down on the tiny yellowed toilet seat and put my face in my hands. What was I doing? Was I really on the run from the government? How could this have happened to me when just a few weeks ago I was going to high school and writing my name in my folder attached to the last names of celebrities?

  My face in the medicine cabinet to my right stared back at me. My eyes were sunken, with deep, purple bruises underneath. My hair was ridiculous… And for some reason, Stephen didn’t seem to care. He’d gotten shot trying to save me, had fled the Agency to keep me safe, and here I was, a silly girl who couldn’t even tell him how I really felt.

  “Because you know he’ll say no.” Donovan waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Sure, he’ll make some excuse about being noble or something, but deep down, we know the truth.” He leaned in close to me so that his lips were just this side of touching my ear. “You just aren’t good enough, Abby.”

  I swallowed a sob and leapt to my feet to… what? Shove away my hallucination. Instead, I unclenched my fists and moved to the sink. Thankfully the water turned on. I splashed some in my face before peeling off my jacket and throwing it on the toilet.

  “Go on,” Donovan said from behind me, his broken, bleeding face leering at me from the mirror. “See what happens. Take off all your clothes and walk out there. I’d bet you a fistful of hundreds you get turned down.”

  “You’re really not being very nice,” I whispered as my heart sank because, honestly, I was afraid he was right. Instead, I bit back my tears and swallowed my fear. No, I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore, not of Stephen, not of anyone. I threw an angry glare at Donovan before walking past him and opening the door.

  Stephen was standing in the kitchen, his back to me, and as I approached, I realized something smelled good. My mouth watered as I approached and put my arms around his waist. He tensed for a second before relaxing and glancing at me over his shoulder.

  “Whatcha cooking?” I asked as he turned toward me.

  “The fridge was stocked. I thought I’d take the opportunity to cook dinner for us.” He bent down and kissed me lightly on the lips. I pressed into him with my mouth, pulling him against me. He hesitated for a moment before devouring me with his mouth. His other hand left the pan on the stove and wrapped around me as he pushed me backward against the sink. Take that Donovan!

  When our kiss finally broke, he put his forehead against mine and smiled. “As much as I enjoy this, I don’t want the first meal I cook for you to burn. Why don’t you go relax, and I’ll come get you when it’s done?”

  “And what should I do in the meantime? Read a magazine?”

  “Why don’t you go make the bed,” he said, smiling mischievously at me before stepping past me, his words hanging in the air.

  “Um… okay,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure it was actually audible. My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I could barely even hear past it. I wasn’t sure how I managed to even make it to the bedroom because the entire trip passed by in a blur. It was dominated by dust bunnies, and a shadeless lamp stood cockeyed in the corner. It was the only thing in there baring a bare yellowed mattress on a rusty metal frame. There weren’t even any windows, which while good for hiding, was a little dreary.

  “Are there any sheets?” I called over my shoulder as I moved up to the bed and gingerly pressed my hand against its spongy surface. Thankfully, it wasn’t damp. That would have been too much. Then again, I’d spent the last several nights sleeping in the back of a pickup truck, so a bed, gross or not, was something of a luxury. How sad.

  Still, luxury or not, this wasn’t exactly the place I wanted to be with Stephen for the first time. Even on the run, I deserved something better than this, right? A blush spread across my cheeks as I stared at the bed, wishing that somehow, we were in one of those cabins so common in romance novels.

  There could be a fireplace and a bearskin rug… He would push me back down on it, slow and sensual…

  “Yeah, I think he said there’s some in the closet,” Stephen said. His intrusive voice shattered my vision, returning me to the desolate bedroom. Maybe… maybe tonight wouldn’t be the night…

  “I’ll check,” I replied, my voice a little shaky. God I was stupid. Here we were being chased by a murderous computer and an entire government agency, and somehow, my mind fixated on Stephen. Beautiful, brave Stephen… who had been shot trying to save me.

  I le
t out a sigh and moved to the closet and pulled the door open. A blast of dust caught me full in the face, and I staggered back, coughing and sputtering. Tears filled my eyes, and I wiped them with the back of my hand as I fought to catch my breath.

  The closet was pretty empty except for a folded towel, a small pillow, and a stained red quilt that was coming apart at the seams so the batting inside showed through. Swell.

  I took the pillow from the closet and flung it on the bed. I grabbed the blanket and was about to wring it out when someone knocked at the door. Was it that clerk? Had he forgotten to tell Stephen something? Or was it something worse?

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up, and my heart began to hammer in my chest as I crept closer to the doorway and peered out.

  Stephen was staring at the door, one hand on his pistol. “Who is it?” he called, taking a step toward the door.

  “Sir, I’ve brought you some sheets. I forgot that we didn’t put any in the closet,” said a muffled voice from the other side of a door.

  Stephen glanced at me, and when I nodded, he pulled the gun free and held it off to the side. Very slowly, he opened the door a crack. Apparently, what he saw didn’t bother him that much because he opened the door a little wider and took a couple pairs of folded sheets.

  “Thanks,” Stephen replied and shut the door without waiting for a response or leaving a tip, which was somewhat rude.

  “Well, that is a plus,” I said, stepping out of the doorway. I’d barely taken two steps when the sheets exploded in a cloud of white smoke. I threw myself backward, landing hard on the bed and rolling to the floor. There was a thump in the other room, and the door burst open and smacked against the frame.

  Dense white fog drifted into the bedroom as I crawled forward on my elbows to get a better vantage point. I strained my ears, listening for sounds, but the only thing I heard were a couple whumps in quick succession. Were they silenced rounds? Stephen wasn’t using a silencer so…