ALSO BY
BERNETA L. HAYNES
Landrien Moriset
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Eve and the Faders
Prologue
Too Good to Be True
1
2
3
4
5
Faders and Fugitives
6
7
8
9
10
The Special Project
11
12
13
14
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
To all the invisible heroes who are strong because they have no other choice.
Eve and the Faders
A Novel
BERNETA L. HAYNES
LORNETT B. VESTAL
Snake Doctor Press
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Berneta L. Haynes & Lornett B. Vestal
All rights reserved.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Originally published in the United States in 2021 by Snake Doctor Press.
First Edition: January 2021
ISBN 978-1-7359850-0-8 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-7359850-1-5 (ebook)
Printed in the United States of America
snakedoctorpress.com
Prologue
Sitting at the kitchen bar, Eve Cooper watched her mother place the cookie sheet on the stove. "I want to try one," said Eve, bouncing with excitement. "Please?"
"That depends," Marie Cooper replied, smiling at her daughter. She brushed aside a few strands of her daughter's wild hair. "If you promise you won’t play with your food at dinner?"
"I wasn't playing. I was making art," said Eve. "There's a difference."
Marie put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Mushed green beans and carrots isn't art, Eve. It's wasted food while some poor kid—"
"Some poor kid wherever is hungry. I know. I know." Eve rolled her eyes but smiled. "Okay, I promise I won't make art with my green beans tonight. Now, can I have a cookie? Please, Mommy."
Marie laughed. "You're too damn precocious for your age."
"What's precocious?"
She placed one chocolate chip cookie on a saucer and handed it to her daughter. "Don't you worry about it. That's the only cookie you're getting for now. Be careful. It's still hot."
Eve bobbed her head as a smile spread across her face. The smell of fresh-baked cookies was tantalizing, and she made sure to sniff the cookie and dip a finger into a melted chocolate chip before licking it. When she bit into the cookie, however, her teeth bumped against something hard as a rock.
She spat the cookie onto her palms and examined the gooey mess. "Mommy..."
Marie beamed. "It's good, isn't it? I added a little cinnamon."
As Eve stared at her hands, they seemed to grow in size. "Why do my hands look weird?" She fell silent when she raised her gaze and saw a bare, windowless room. No longer was she sitting on the bar stool in the bright kitchen of her childhood home. The kitchen and everything in it had vanished, along with her mother. She blinked. "Mommy?"
Something that felt like bolts of electricity shot through her limbs and spread through her body. Against a wet, concrete floor, she lay curled up and shivering.
Alone.
It was the shivering that woke her; the shivering and the pain. Pain like no other she'd known in her life.
Agent Grobeck fixed his vacant green eyes on her and lowered the Taser. "Miss Cooper, it doesn’t need to go this far. Don't make it harder on yourself."
"I don't have to answer your goddamn questions. I want a lawyer," she shouted.
"You're not charged with a crime. For all intents and purposes, this place doesn't exist. Your right to an attorney doesn't apply. Now, kindly answer the question, Miss Cooper, and I'll have the guards give you clean clothes. I know you must be eager to change out of those filthy clothes."
Eve looked at her sweat-soaked blouse and dingy jeans. After struggling, she pulled herself up and faced Agent Grobeck, who was standing just inside the steel door. "I want my lawyer."
"Please answer the question, Miss Cooper."
"Lawyer. Now."
In too short of a moment for her to register his movement, he raised the gun. A buzzing noise followed, and Eve collapsed onto the floor. Gasping for breath, she rubbed her arms and clutched her chest as an intense heat spread through her.
He squatted to meet her gaze. "Are you ready to answer my questions?"
Coughing, she managed to look at him and, in a display of foolish contempt, spat at his feet. "Lawyer."
He sighed. "Very well."
The second shot from the Taser hit her chest again. This time the agony was so overwhelming she assumed death was a moment away. Over and over, he asked the same question, and each time she spat or glared at him. Each time, pain followed her defiance.
She wondered if any of it was real. Was she dreaming? That's it. This is a nightmare. I'm going to wake up.
Tears formed puddles on the floor beneath her while she lay curled in a fetal position. No longer trying to suppress her sobs, she wailed. Sinking into an empty hole of nothingness, she watched as if from outside her body as he towered over her.
So lost was she that she didn't hear him leave. The sound of her own sobbing enveloped her.
***
A day or several passed between the agent's first visit to her cell and his second. She had no way of knowing how many minutes, hours, and days had slipped away since she'd found him waiting in her living room. She now realized she should’ve pepper-sprayed him on sight and fled. But curiosity had gotten the best of her that night. She wondered why the price of curiosity had to be so high.
As she sat alone in the dank room, her stomach and head ached from hunger and thirst. She remembered eating a Subway tuna salad sandwich before returning to her apartment on a rainy evening. Then there was the bottle of water she'd found next to her feet when she woke after the first round of abuse. That was it, not a morsel of food. Just one small bottle of water. She'd drained it in a few gulps, her tongue desperately digging around the bottle for any remaining drops.
"Let me out of here," she'd screamed, throwing the empty bottle at the door. With every word, her parched throat had cracked in pain. "Please, anybody. Please, help me."
Taking deep breaths now, she sat cross-legged on the hard floor. Agent Grobeck wanted her alive. Yet this realization failed to bring her any comfort. She looked up when she heard shuffling of feet outside. If she hid next to the door and waited, perhaps she could tackle the person and make a run for it. What other chance will I get?
But as she stood, the door squeaked open. She'd missed her opportunity. Damn it.
Agent Grobeck observed her. "Good afternoon, Miss Cooper. I see you're up and about. I hope that means you're ready to talk." He'd brought in a chair and placed it two feet from her. Once he sat, he rested his hands on his knees. In one hand was a recorder and in the other was a Taser. "Agent Yu will no longer serve as your direct supervisor. I've been tasked with the rest of your training. As such, I have questions for you. Are
you willing to cooperate now?"
"Training?" she asked, wincing. The very act of speaking hurt her dry throat. Meanwhile, her head was throbbing, and her stomach seemed to be doing somersaults. Nonetheless, she held his unsettling gaze, noting how dilated his pupils were and how there seemed to be no emotion in his eyes. There was a saying her mother had..."The motor's running, but nobody's behind the wheel." As she studied him, she understood that saying for the first time. She wondered how she'd failed to see it before, and Agent Yu's warning returned to the forefront of her mind. She tried to warn me.
"Yes, Miss Cooper. You didn't take to our kinder, gentler training methods. You left us no other choice."
"Wait. Are you serious?"
He smiled. "Yes. And for your sake, Miss Cooper, I suggest you cooperate. From the looks of it, I'm not sure how much longer you can hold up. Are you willing to cooperate?"
She gave a slight nod.
He crossed his legs and leaned forward. "Smart girl. Now, have a seat and let's get started then."
Eve remained standing and didn't move.
"Very well. When did you discover your ability?"
"I don't know."
"When was the first time you were aware that you could become invisible?"
"I don't know."
"Miss Cooper, do I need to remind you—"
She groaned, cold and trembling. "When I was a kid."
Watching him process her response, she realized she wouldn't win against this man, not by being defiant and angry. There was nothing she could do but comply, and even that might not be enough to avoid more torture. She'd have to play along for now. She'd have to come up with a plan.
"Agent Yu," he said, looking straight at Eve, "turn down the AC a bit, will you?"
She looked around to confirm that the two of them were alone in the room. There must be speakers and a microphone in the room somewhere, she surmised. As the interrogation continued, Eve speculated about whether she should try to signal to Agent Yu to help her. Can I trust her anymore?
After a while, she grew tired of the interrogation and began tapping her feet against the floor in an effort to distract herself. Out of sheer boredom, she began memorizing every detail of Agent Grobeck's face. The small scar over his left eye, the green eyes that looked blue in some lighting, the pink lips, and the ever-present sneer lurking behind his smile. One day, she'd wipe the satisfied smirk off his pale face, or she at least would die trying.
"That's all for now. Thank you, Miss Cooper," he said, standing up.
"Agent?"
"Yes, Miss Cooper?"
"What happened to my cat?" Try as she might she hadn't been able to erase an image of him strangling Mr. Pebbles and leaving the poor thing for dead in the apartment. But she couldn't be sure if the memory was real. She couldn't be sure if anything was real anymore.
He'd reached the door and didn't bother turning to look at her. "It ran off."
She exhaled, not sure if she believed him. But perhaps Mr. Pebbles was alive and free somewhere, roaming the streets of Chicago. Or maybe he'd found another home already. Maybe Zoey had found him...
Not a minute after the agent left, another man—more squat and rugged-looking—came in carrying a pair of white linen pants and a white T-shirt. He threw them at her and exited without a word. She hastily removed her dirty clothes and put on the clean clothes before the man returned with water and a bowl of soupy oatmeal. He sat the food tray near the exit and locked the door behind him.
Eve rushed to the tray, sniffed the food, and her nose curled up in disgust. The oatmeal smelled like sour milk. But she dug the spoon into the oatmeal anyway and consumed it to the last drop, trying not to gag. She took the glass of water and drank it in a couple of swallows.
Still hungry, she wiped her mouth with her hands and licked her lips. Surely, they would bring her more. They couldn't expect one bowl of oatmeal would be enough after days of no food. She thought about the speakers and microphone hidden somewhere in the cell and considered requesting more food. But the words choked in her throat before they could escape her lips. I won't beg.
Instead, she sat in silence, cross-legged with her palms against her knees. Throughout her childhood, her mother had made her sit like this when she was in trouble. Right now, Eve was in serious trouble.
Listening to her stomach grumble, she sat there, immersed in her thoughts and plotting her escape.
Too Good to Be True
1
TWO MONTHS EARLIER...
The brief Friday afternoon downpour had flooded parts of the street, and Eve avoided the puddles on her way to the bus stop heading home. Her ninth-grade students had been demanding as usual, and she was desperate to plop down on her sofa. The rainy weather only added more stress to an already gloomy day that involved breaking up a fight and giving one of her most passionate students a low grade on his Faulkner paper. Watching his heart shatter as he stared at the C minus was tough. The first assignment always revealed the different learning levels of her students—which students needed to be in an advanced class and which ones required more one-on-one help. He fell into the latter category, and she hoped the private tutor she suggested would help him.
As she reached the people queued up for the bus, the heel of her left shoe broke, and she tumbled to the ground. She shielded her face right before she hit the concrete. Audible gasps sounded from the crowd. Trying not to look at them as she pulled herself up, she cursed under her breath and ignored the pain shooting through her legs.
"Miss, are you all right?" A young man reached out to lift her.
She mumbled, "I'm fine, thanks," slinging her bag over her shoulder and picking up the broken shoe. Her gaze averted, she hobbled to the bus and sat in the first vacant row near the front. As she massaged her foot through the stockings, she turned and stared out the window at the gray sky. High-rise condos sailed by, only to be replaced with modest two-story houses, as the bus turned onto a neighborhood street. What she wouldn't give to get away from the city for a while, to somewhere smaller, warmer, and less rainy. A brief change to her routine. Aruba. Zoey had said Aruba was nice. But that took money—lots of it—and one thing Eve didn't have was money.
"What the—" she exclaimed when a heavy weight landed on her lap. She looked at the backpack on her lap and then searched to see the owner. A pink-haired woman who smelled of coffee and cigarettes plopped beside her.
Eve frowned. "Did you seriously just throw your backpack on my lap?" she asked the woman.
The woman turned to Eve and stared blankly but made no effort to grab the backpack. Instead, she scratched her head, knocking a few pink strands out of place, and inserted earplugs.
Stunned, Eve looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the woman's odd behavior. "Excuse me? I know damn well you heard me," she said and thrust the heavy pack at the woman.
At once, the woman leaped up, clutching the backpack against her chest and moving away from the seat. Staring in wide-eyed horror, she pointed at Eve.
About four people watched with alarm.
Eve rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Just drop the theatrics."
At that moment, several individuals in the surrounding rows scurried from their seats and collided into one another, all of them gawking and pointing at Eve. The bus came to an abrupt stop, and the woman, along with a half-dozen others, went crashing to the floor.
Eve surveyed the scene with increasing concern. No. It can't be happening again. The woman was rubbing her backside and looking in Eve's general direction. Yet she wasn't looking at Eve. She was looking somewhere in the general vicinity of Eve. In fact, all the people on the bus seemed to be doing the same—looking in Eve's general direction but not at Eve. "Ugh. Come on. Not this crap again," she groaned. As she spoke, two women shrieked and covered their mouths.
"Where is it coming from?" asked one young man, staring in Eve's direction. He approached, his hand outstretched and patting at the air near her face. His cold hand brushed Eve's face, a
nd she staggered. She slapped his hand away, and he jumped back, evoking more frightened screams from the crowd. He gestured at Eve while pressing himself against another passenger who was sitting in an aisle seat. "There's something there."
"Um, yeah, I'm here, and you can keep your hands off me." Eve slid her left foot into the broken shoe and stood.
All at once, everybody started hollering and running to the two exits, toppling over each other, and dropping grocery bags. In a matter of seconds, there were only a dozen passengers on the bus, and the driver was scanning the bus for signs of what had caused the disturbance.
She looked from him to the passengers gathered outside on the sidewalk. They stared at the bus, some of them confused and others looking frightened. Shit. She closed her eyes and counted to ten like she always used to do whenever this happened. Get a grip, Eve.
As she shuffled toward the front of the bus, no one seemed to notice her. Some passengers fixed their attention on the driver, while others were still staring at the bus as though it was about to attack them. "Excuse me?" asked Eve, tapping the driver's shoulder.
He let out a high-pitched scream and jerked in his seat. When he spun around, he pointed at Eve, his eyes darting left and right. "Something," he said to the passenger behind him, "I felt..." He paused and seemed to reconsider his words.
She could see the panic dancing about his face and imagined what he was thinking. She assumed he was thinking he couldn't afford to have a nervous breakdown, not in front of all these people. They would think he was mentally unstable; word would get back to his employer, and he might lose his job. He couldn't afford to lose his shit in public.
"Are you okay?" asked the passenger.
The driver cleared his throat. "Ah, uh, yes." Scratching his head, he turned to face the rest of the passengers and waved them to come into the bus.
Most of the passengers hesitated and shot wary glances around. No one moved into the seat Eve had used. No one uttered a word. They all stared at him and remained frozen in place. For a moment, it looked like he wasn't going to be able to get his passengers to return to the bus. However, a few passengers whispered to each other and, slowly, walked to the entrance of the bus. Soon, other passengers fell in line and boarded.
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