May Contain Spies: A Spy Thriller (Meet Abby Banks Book 1) (18 page)

“I’ll be okay,” I squeaked a moment later.

“Are you sure?” Stephen asked, glancing down the passage toward where I was sure the corpse was, and I saw a shudder ravage his body.

“Yeah,” I replied, biting my lip and shutting my eyes for a second. I could do this. I could crawl over a dead body.

“I can find another way,” he suggested, and I opened my eyes and quirked an eyebrow at him. Was Stephen scared?

“There’s no other way,” I said, moving up closer to him. “Let’s just get this over with. Besides, if there’s another way that doesn’t involve a sewer, and you made me crawl through it for fun. I will be very unhappy with you.”

Stephen didn’t say anything. Instead, he began moving forward mechanically, like a marionette on strings. He slogged through the glop, and I followed along so closely, I was nearly on top of him.

Something squelched beneath my hand, and the smell, like rotten eggs on a summer’s day, made me turn my head away. I covered my face with the crook of my arm, because that was the cleanest part of my scrubs, and fought not to gag.

Tears filled my eyes as I sucked in a slow breath through my mouth that tasted like old socks. When I’d recovered enough to move, Stephen was farther ahead in the tunnel. The light from his headlamp illuminated the corpse. Somehow the body had hit the lip of a huge pit, and instead of falling down below, it stuck there, one mangled arm wedged into a crack in the stone. Stephen pushed the body to the side, careful not to touch it much.

I was about to ask him why, but as I approached, I suddenly knew why. Chloe’s face was frozen in a look of desperate sadness, and as Stephen climbed over her, he paused and stared down. Her corpse was just at the edge of what looked like a large pit, which I guess made sense since we were traveling downward. This must be near where they directly disposed of garbage. The moment that thought hit me, tears welled in my eyes. She was more than just trash.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered, and the sound of his words made my heart break for him. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Chloe… I should have known better.”

Her death replayed itself in my mind. The utter pointlessness of it made it even more horrible. She had been shot as an example, and her body had been dumped here, in a trash heap.

I glanced up at the ceiling and spotted a hatch a few meters past Stephen’s head. I shook my head, shutting my eyes so that I wouldn’t cry.

“Abby,” Stephen said, “Let’s go. Let’s make her pay for this… and for everyone else.”

“Okay,” I replied, pushing myself forward. As I climbed over Chloe’s body, I stared into her sightless, unseeing eyes. A tear dripped down my cheek and splattered on her once perfect face.

Stephen was standing a few feet ahead of me, one hand on a ladder that led up. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for me to move, his face set in a hard line. “This should lead up into the separation room. That’s where they decide what they are going to feed into the cogeneration plant. We’ll be able to escape through the emergency exits there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked as Stephen began climbing upward. That was good because the pad beneath the ladder was so narrow that both of us wouldn’t have been able to stand there together.

“Yes,” Stephen said as he reached the top and pressed one gooey hand against the inner mechanisms of the hatch. How had he scaled the ladder so fast? Was he part spider-monkey or something?

I shook my head and began climbing up the ladder. Its rungs were covered with that black sandpaper that was sometimes used to provide extra grip. That was good because my hands were so slick with sludge that each step made my heart palpitate.

I was nearly to the top when Stephen finally pushed the hatch open and warm yellow light spilled into the shaft. I blinked, the sudden change was nearly blinding, and went to cover my eyes. My foot slipped, and I fell backward. I reached out, trying to grab hold of the ladder, and my slimy fingers slid off like I was trying to grab a wet ice cube. A scream ripped from my throat as I careened backward.

A sudden jolt halted me in midair, my head snapped back and stars shot passed my eyes. Stephen was leaning toward me, one hand gripping the ladder, the other on the hem of my shirt. I dangled there, unable to react as strain made his arms cord and bulge.

“Abby, grab onto the ladder and pull yourself up.” His words slipped through his clenched teeth. “I can’t hold you much longer. I’m not Superman.”

Blood rushed to my head as I stared up at him from my inverted position, unsure of how to get myself out of the predicament. As I glanced away from Stephen’s straining biceps and toward the ladder, I really wished I’d stuck out those gymnastics lessons. I’d quit because, for some reason, whenever I did a flip I turned all cockeyed. After almost a year of being the gymnastics equivalent of the girl picked last for kickball, I’d given it up.

Now that I was hanging upside down with my shirt pressing painfully into my shoulders and cutting off the feeling in my limbs as blood hammered in my temples, I was regretting the decision.

“Just reach up and grab my wrist,” Stephen grunted, but his hand seemed so far away that I knew there was no way I could do any kind of vertical sit-up. Wonder Woman I was not. That was when an idea hit me.

“Stephen, I’m going to loop my legs around the ladder, then you can let go and I’ll just be hanging upside down…” Even before I finished the words, I’d thrust my legs through the ladder and wedged my toes up under the slats. I grabbed hold of my legs with my arms and started edging my way upward, pulling myself up inch by agonizing inch.

Stephen let go and a scream tore from my lips as my full weight fell back on my toes and hands. My muscles burned as he reached down, grabbing my wrist and hauling me up into a more normal position.

“Let’s not do this again,” he said when we were on the surface a moment later.

“Okay,” I replied, sucking in a breath of air and rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. There was nothing here except rows of bright yellow lights that were set into the white ceiling. It made me feel like I was in one of those clean rooms from the movies.

Any moment, I expected a scientist in full hazmat gear to come strolling by and look at me through the enormous window that covered one side of the room. Then he’d scribble in his little notepad and tap at the glass to get my attention, whereupon a door would slide open to reveal a chocolate treat.

Stephen glanced down at me and smirked. “You should get up,” he said, offering me a hand so covered in grime that I really didn’t want him touching me with it.

“I’m good,” I said, getting to my feet without his help.

He grinned, perfect teeth flashing in the light. “You’re not such a pretty sight yourself,” he said, gesturing at me.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” I asked, feeling my cheeks burn as I said the words. For whatever reason, my heart started going crazy in my chest, and it was hard to catch my breath.

“Um… that’s not what I meant,” he said, backing away from me several steps before turning and looking at the window. “I think you’re pretty,” he whispered a moment later, his voice strained and low.

I swallowed. Stephen thought I was pretty? No… he was just saying that because he was a secret agent. That’s the type of thing they said, right? I took a step toward him, and he whirled around, eyes like oceans of sapphire as he took hold of my hands and stared at me. Then he leaned forward pressed his lips against my forehead.

“I think you’re amazing, Abby,” he whispered, breath hot on my forehead as he spoke, and my knees turned to jelly. “Amazing.”

“Touching,” Donovan’s voice boomed through the room. “I mean, you’re as good as dead, Stephen, but it’s still touching.”

Stephen reacted so quickly that I almost lost my balance as he whirled around and shoved me behind him. I stared at Donovan as anger and fear fell over me in crashing waves. How dare he show up again? My eyes widened a little as another thought struck me. If he was here, how far behind were hordes of armed guards?

“Donovan,” Stephen said, and his voice was hard and angry. His entire body was tensed into a coiled spring as Donovan stepped through the door, his face still smeared with blood.

Donovan looked past Stephen and grinned at me. “Normally this is where he’d say, ‘Abby, we’ll finish this later,’ but that isn’t happening because I’m going to kill him and shove him down there with the Praying Mantis.” He grinned at me, something dark glinting in his eyes, “That was a nice touch on my part, don’t you think?”

Stephen’s foot lashed out, cutting through the air so quickly that I almost didn’t follow the movement. It sailed by Donovan’s head as he stepped casually to the side and dropped down, sweeping Stephen’s other leg out from under him. Stephen hit the ground with a horrible smack, but somehow, managed to roll to his feet.

“You’ve never been able to beat me before, Stephen. What makes you think this time will be any different?” Donovan asked, smirking.

“I wasn’t trying to let you win before.” Stephen dropped into a low crouch as the two of them started to circle the room.

Donovan’s knee exploded forward, catching Stephen hard on the side of the head. He toppled to the ground like a broken mannequin, all sprawling limbs. He tried to roll, but Donovan’s boot came up, catching him square in the stomach. The wet sound of smashed meat filled my ears as Stephen flopped over on his side, gasping.

That’s when the gun came out. It was huge and ominous in Donovan’s hand as he pointed it casually at Stephen. It was the very same one he had used on my mother, and the sight of it made my head spin. I reached back, leaning against the window for support. Donovan had killed my mother… and now he was going to kill Stephen… and there was nothing I could do.

“Don’t try and resist. It will just be more difficult for the both of us,” Donovan said, gesturing for Stephen to stay put.

Slowly, as if he was a broken marionette, Stephen got to his feet and took a wobbly step forward. He brushed his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a crimson smear along his cheek. “I was just testing you,” Stephen wheezed, drawing his hands up in front of himself like a drunken boxer, and wobbled forward.

He swung, his whole body stumbling forward as he moved, and Donovan sidestepped with ease. The gun lashed out, coming down like a club at the back of Stephen’s head. Stephen turned in a surprising bout of agility and seized Donovan’s wrist with both hands. Stephen’s shoulder snapped upward as he jerked down on Donovan’s arm.

A horrific crack ripped through the air followed closely by a scream that made me turn away as the gun clattered to the ground. Stephen spun, driving his elbow into the other man’s gut as Donovan’s arm fell uselessly to his side, dangling at an unnatural angle.

Donovan bit his lip, rage twisting his once beautiful face into a monstrous mask. “How dare you!” he screamed as Stephen darted forward, all lithe movement.

Stephen unleashed a flurry of blows as Donovan fell backward to the ground, covering himself with his good arm in an attempt to keep himself from getting pounded into oblivion. Stephen’s knee came forward, arcing down and smashing into Donovan’s already hurt arm. Donovan screamed, and his body arced uncontrollably as Stephen’s fist came forward. It crashed into Donovan’s face, and the distinct sound of a broken nose filled my ears.

That’s when Donovan began to laugh. It burbled up from inside him and through his split lips in little gasps of bloody spittle. “Fool,” he said. “You’ve already lost. They are on their way here right now.”

Panic crossed Stephen’s face as he leapt to his feet, turning toward me as the door Donovan had entered through slammed shut in a hiss of compressed air. Red lights began to swivel along the ceiling, casting crimson shadows along the walls.

“Abby,” Stephen said. “We have to go! Now!” He took a step toward me, one hand outstretched.

Donovan surged upward then, the point of a hypodermic needle pressed against Stephen’s throat. It happened so fast that Stephen was already lying on the ground before I’d realized what happened.

“No!” I shrieked, and without thinking, snatched up the gun. I pointed it at Donovan even as tears clouded my vision. “What have you done?”

“What do you plan on doing with that, Abby?” Donovan smirked, one eyebrow cocking upward.

“If you killed him…” I said, trailing off because finishing the statement was too painful. I couldn’t lose both my mother and Stephen to this guy. I just couldn’t…

“He’s just unconscious. Your
real
mother has plans for him.” Donovan shrugged, taking a step toward me.

“Don’t move,” I said, the gun shaking in my hands as I pointed it at the center of his chest. “Don’t take another step.”

“Oh?” Donovan took another step and grinned at me. Blood leaked down the corner of his mouth, and his tongue snaked out, licking it away before disappearing back into his mouth.

“Please…” I murmured, and he stopped moving for the barest of moments before taking another step toward me.

“I don’t think you have it in you, mon petite,” he said. He was only a few feet away from me now, and I could see his good hand edging upward as the hypodermic needle clattered to the floor beside Stephen.

“Please, Donovan,” I said.

“No,” he replied, and as his hand came up, I fired. The gun jerked in my hands, the sound of it so loud that my hearing dulled into a single point of screeching sound. That’s when everything went all slow motion. Donovan’s body pitched backward in a spray of blood and thicker things as his legs went out from under him.

His body hit the ground in a heap of flesh, blood gushing from the back of his head and spilling out across the floor. Most of his face was gone. I don’t know how it happened exactly, but when the gun bucked in my hand, the bullet must have taken him in the head instead of the chest.

I felt the weapon slip from my hands. It hit the ground with an angry sounding clank, and as I stared at it, the room felt like it was spinning. The only thing I could see as white scrub-clad storm troopers rushed into the room was the gun laying on the ground. It was covered in specks of blood, and as I stared at my hands, I realized they were covered in blood too.